Most people looked surprised when I told them I about my Aunt Bill.  She was named Billie Jean, but everyone, from her mother to her friends called her Bill. 

Aunt Bill was my mother’s only sister.  She shared with my mother and two brothers a life on central Florida ranches as my grandfather moved from ranch-hand to ranch owner.  Grandpa believe his children were free labor.  If the intake pipe on the pump was clogged, he would tell them to unclog it.  Their solution: Tie a rope around the youngest brother’s waist and tie a concrete block to his feet.  Then they would throw him in, he would sink, pull out of the pipe what he could, and then yank the rope.  Sometimes, Sissie, Pete, and Bill would even remember to pull him up.  Aunt Bill always said if it wasn’t for her, Bud would never have survived to adulthood.

She married Uncle Larry, a friend of her brother.  Larry was a vet, just starting out.  Two kids came along: Terry Lynn and Bob.  This is when she came into my memory.  We would go to Aunt Bill’s house every Easter.  Being the youngest, I was at a distinct disadvantage in the egg hunt.  Aunt Bill would make sure every child got some eggs and would hide some especially for me to find.   Sometimes Mama would leave me at Aunt Bill’s for a few days (every Mom needs a break).  Being with Aunt Bill was fun.  She would let you play throughout the house, roam around the barn, even play in the boat.  I remember piloting that boat through storm after storm as it sat on its trailer under the barn on a sunny day.  Imagination is powerful thing.  When I came in from playing, she took time to enter my world and ask, “How rough was the water?”  I would spin tales of narrow escapes, sea monsters, and alligators.  Then she would give me a slice of cake to fortify me for my next adventure.

After my Father died, Aunt Bill was beyond kind to my mother and to us kids.  If she went to the beach, we were invited.  If she was staying a week at the lake, we came along.  When she wanted her kids to see the mountains, we joined the trip.  You haven’t lived until you ride in the rear-facing backseat of an Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser station-wagon through the Great Smoky Mountains.  Mama would have never taken that trip by herself.  Aunt Bill opened the doors to a bigger world.

Tragedy struck her life.  Uncle Larry was killed by a drunk driver.  She went from the comfortable life as the vet’s wife to needing to make a living for her family.  She took his seat on the school board, learned to be a realtor, and began to rebuild her life.  Her mother, my grandmother, used to say, “Life will make you bitter or better.”  Aunt Bill strove for better.

She married again and took a new family under her wing.  It was not easy.  Aunt Bill was determined (stubborn?) to make it work. 

In one of those God-ironies God likes to sprinkle on our lives, Aunt Bill decided to follow Jesus during a revival at the Methodist Church in Venus (Venus, Florida, look it up).  Granny, Mama, and Uncle Pete all made their decisions for Jesus during the same revival.  They were baptized by the Baptist preacher a few days later in one of the nearby lakes.  The irony is this: the Baptist church in Venus was founded by my father’s father.  He had already passed away, but his future daughter-in-law, and my father’s future mother, brother, and sister-in-law became members of the church he began.

Aunt Bill had the kind of faith that believed God was at work in all things.  She loved Jesus, served his church, and did good.  If more people lived their faith like Aunt Bill, there would be a lot less meanness in the world.

There was a time in my life when I needed encouragement and support.  I was a young adult, prone to mistakes (what young adult isn’t?).  There were things going on and I needed the encouragement and guidance of someone who was not my mother.  I’ll never forget her calling me.  I don’t know how she knew what was going on, but she listened, supported, and did not judge.  She did what good aunts and uncles do – she was there.

Aunt Bill died last week.  She was 91 and had lived a good, long life.  She navigated the real storms of life and her faith saw her through.  Because of COVID, timing, and distance, I was not able to go to her funeral. 

I find myself very sad.  I’m not really sad for Aunt Bill.  She is with our Heavenly Father.  The decision to follow Jesus in Venus some eighty years ago held her safe through death into eternity.  I’m sad for me.  I feel another piece of childhood has gone.  One more storehouse of memories and stories has left.  A wise friend of mine once asked, “What will I do when there is no one left who remembers my childhood?”

I was planning to go by and visit Aunt Bill this past March.  COVID came.  The trip didn’t seem wise.  I really regret not making that trip.  I would like to hear Aunt Bill tell a story and laugh one more time.