Becky, a 45-year old woman who acquired wealth many years ago when she was just a little girl, was lying on a chaise lounge relaxing in the backyard of her quaint little cottage staring up into the starry-lit night sky.
As her eyes were transfixed on the array of gold and diamond twinkles glistening and dancing before her, in the far off distance, she thought, ‘anything I ever wanted in life I’ve gotten. No matter what it was I got it all.’ All of a sudden she felt a sharp pain pierce her chest and instantly she fell to the ground and died.
Becky was a different kind of rich girl. Her wealth never prompted her to air a posture of haughtiness or pomposity as displayed by the other rich girls who lived in her neighborhood. Thinking they were better than others because of their riches they would snub the ‘less fortunate than they’ with the intent to communicate, ‘you’re not worthy of my attention.’ Not Becky, she exhibited a caring heart toward everyone, everywhere.
Her dress was different too. She wasn’t at all about glamor. When you’d see Becky around town she was in her everyday attire, jeans, a cool cotton T-shirt and her worn out walking athletic shoes.
Most of the time her hair was either pulled back in a ponytail or clipped up in a bun and never did you see her all fancied up with gaudy makeup and jewels, her face had only enough sun-kissed color to accent the beauty that came from within her heart.
‘Living Waters’ was a youth camp in the charming, rustic, country town she grew up in. Becky attended the camp each summer as a child and her jubilant spirit was obvious when the season approached. As an adult she volunteered her time there hoping to help the often-troubled teens that would attend reluctantly at their parent’s bidding.
At Becky’s funeral, Brent her son, was given the honor of presenting her eulogy. He chose to read a journal entry from Becky’s diary she had kept since she was a teenager.
Brent read, ‘Thank you God for not making me rich with worldly treasures. I couldn’t imagine being rich according to this world’s standards if it meant the absence of your presence in my life.
You have given to me all your vast riches beyond measure, those that money could never afford. You’ve taught me how to give and receive love. You gave me a wonderful husband and son. Throughout the years, you poured out your wisdom, peace and joy into my heart exceedingly over and over again.
And most of all Father, you allowed me to be your daughter, a ‘Princess’ of the most high King. You laid down your life in death because you wanted my life. You wanted to see me live and I have been humbly honored to walk as your obedient servant ever since.
Father, until you decide it’s time I come home, I’ll go where you lead and continue to serve you faithfully. I look forward to the day when I will be with you face to face and live in your presence for eternity.’
Ironically that journal entry by Becky was penned the day before she died.
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