There are in our lives people who simply change everything for us. Individuals who help us to see the world differently and encourage us to see ourselves with compassion and grace. They cause us to dare to believe in our dreams and in our hopes. Flavia Weedn writes, “Some people come into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never, ever the same.”

Footprints on the heart show up in places we don’t expect them to. In a quiet moment of reflection, a thought, a story or a memory leaps into our consciousness. Long tucked away and forgotten, but suddenly present. Don was one of those people who left footprints in my heart. I met him first as my pastor, then later he became both a mentor and friend. Had I not been going through such a difficult time during those years, he may never have gotten quite so far into my heart. Sick babies and a marriage falling apart led me to his office where I found counsel and support. He was an encourager and celebrated with me the successes I had as I headed back to college and then to seminary.

I have to admit that there were times when he gave some terrible advice, but on Sunday morning, somewhere in the prayers or in the sermon was the word I think he wished he had said. Don had a special talent that way, which really was not an accident. Later he told me he would go into the sanctuary during the week. Standing at the front on the church, he would visualize the congregation and where individuals would be sitting in the pews. Then he would ask himself what people who came to mind needed to hear on Sunday morning. His gift was his ability to skillfully weave together a sermon which included concerns of the congregation he had heard in recent days. Listening to his sermons could be a profoundly  spirit-filled and holy  moment.  On a practical level, I learned the art of the zinger from him . . . the comment he would make just after he got you to laugh. The words he wanted you remember,  were always found there.

I chose him as my mentor when I was ordained. He was the person who I would be relating to as I entered the ministry. The mentor’s role was simply to share the journey of ministry, which made it possible to admit mistakes and talk about what I had learned. I would bring my questions and he would share his experience. I came to trust his judgement around church problems and difficult people. The official mentoring period ended, but the mentoring didn’t. Along the way mentoring turned into friendship. The years passed and the friendship continued.

Since Don’s death I have been reflecting on his life, his ministry and his unconditional love. In the end, he showed me how to grow old. As he neared ninety, I would ask how he was. He would always say he was doing “pretty well for his age.” One day when I pressed him a bit, he said, “I don’t want to complain. I’ve visited so many people through the years who complained about every problem. I just don’t want to be one of those people.”

“Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while and embrace our silent dreams . . . Some people move our souls to dance. They awaken us to a new understanding with the passing whisper of their wisdom. Throughout our lives we are sent precious souls . . . meant to share our journey, however brief or lasting their stay, they remind us why we are here. Some people come into our lives, and leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same.” Flavia Weedn

Don left footprints in my heart.  I’m grateful for my friends life and the way his life touched mine. I’m grateful for the gift of friendship and for the shared journey. I’m grateful for all the other people in my life who have come as saints and also left footprints in my heart. Flavia Weedn’s poem “Some People”  includes these words: “Some people come into our lives to teach us about love… The love that rests within ourselves. . . Let us reach out to others and feel the bliss of giving, for love is far richer in action , than it ever is in words.”