Matthew 18: At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked,
“Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2 He called a child,
whom he put among them, 3 and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you
change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of
heaven. 4 Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in
the kingdom of heaven. 5 Whoever welcomes one such child in my name
welcomes me.
Virginia Anne Scott, my oldest sister, was born in Nashville, Tennessee on this date, February 7, in 1947, while Dad was in graduate school at Peabody College (now a branch of Vanderbilt University). Anne was actually my parents' second pregnancy, the first having ended in a miscarriage. I remember Mom, who very resilient, once telling me the miscarriage was a difficult loss.
Anne was born with
patent ductus arteriosus (PDA), a congenital heart defect consisting of an opening between the two major arteries leading out of her heart. In normal babies, the opening exists during fetal development but closes shortly after birth. Without surgical correction, a severe PDA can produce a range of health issues that may lead to early death.
In Anne's case, the doctors recommended she undergo corrective surgery. Her defect must have been quite severe, as the survival rate from surgery at that time, around 1951, was very poor. The nearest specialists who performed the surgery were at Emory Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia. My parents were given the odds and didn't expect her to make it. But, Anne had the operation and survived. However, she experienced residual health issues thereafter including shortness of breath and inability to gain weight. Kids being what they are, her peers came up with a hurtful nickname for her, "Skinny Scott."
Anne was five and a half years my senior, so she and I were in different worlds growing up. She went to college at the University of Georgia in the Fall of 1965 when I was 13 and studied to be an elementary school teacher. Meanwhile, in tune with the times, I was becoming a long-haired, guitar-playing countercultural nonconformist who believed American society was hopelessly corrupt and sick (the contemporary term would be
dysfunctional- in fact, I still think that way, only more hopefully). By the ninth or tenth grade, I stopped taking school at all seriously except for the few things I found intrinsically interesting such as German and English literature. But Anne, in spite of the meanness and social exclusion she experienced from other kids as she matriculated through the public schools, showed no bitterness. Her life was on a course solidly in the mainstream. Anne always had friends who were kindred spirits and she had religious faith that deepened in her college years. At UGA, Anne joined Young Life, a Christian society, through which she met her future husband, Ed. She graduated, got married, and achieved her dreams of having children and being a first grade teacher. I never thought to ask Anne how she did it, but I think her unquestioning faith in Jesus allowed her to let go of the cruelty of her juvenile peers as she achieved one core goal after another.
No one loved children any more than Anne. She had a sweet, child-like quality herself and she followed Jesus more faithfully than anyone else I've ever known. Anne had the qualities Jesus blessed in the Beatitudes, the ones that seem to have been overlooked, rationalized, and straight up ignored by professed Christians ever since the Church decided it was OK to conduct wars. To name them, Anne was disarmingly meek (a word I don't believe I've ever previously used in writing or conversation), poor in spirit, merciful, and pure in heart. She avoiding judging others and when she talked about teachers, parents or church members in her sphere who were behaving badly, her voice took on a sort of wry, conspiratorial tone, as if she knew God were in on the conversation. Anyone who knew Anne knew she hungered and thirsted after righteousness and was most definitely a peace-maker. She did her best to help others and be an uncomplaining counterweight to the selfish and destructive side of human nature. In addition to her long career as a teacher of first graders, earning the love of several generations of parents and children, Anne was a dedicated member of the Methodist Church who, to give only one example, participated in the Walk to Emmaus experiential program for many years, helping people feel a connection with God's love. Like our parents, she lived up to the traditional marriage vows and was unconditionally devoted to her husband and their children, Scott and Natalie.
In the last years of her life, Anne spent her summers joyously doing volunteer work with young orphans in Honduras and El Salvador. She happily assisted Ed when he embarked on a second career as a minister after retiring from the Federal Civil Service. I, having somehow become a responsible adult and contributing member of society, was fortunate to spend time with Anne during visits to our parents where she enthusiastically narrated visits to web pages about her orphan kids and shared the wealth of her experiences with me. Anne's mission trips were natural expressions of her generous love of children. I think they were more like fun than work for her, meaningful fun that touched small lives scarred by pain and poverty.
Anne was particularly close to my Dad. When he died December 24, 2006, she seemed to handle the loss well, as did my mother. Mom, although she carried it unobtrusively, was the model of Anne's faith. Less than 3 years later, on June 22, 2009, when I arrived for work at our private practice, Mary Lou came into my office and closed the door. Looking at me with a grim expression, she said, "Owen, your sister died." My first thought was she meant our middle sister and I blurted out, "Scottie?" "It's Anne," Mary Lou told me. Anne and Ed had gone on vacation in Colorado with the approval of her physician, although she was suffering from bronchitis and was temporarily using an oxygen tank to enhance her breathing. While they were driving in the mountains enjoying the sublime scenery, Anne fell asleep. When Ed stopped after awhile and attempted to awaken her, he realized she had stopped breathing. It was too late to revive her;
Anne had died.
I went with Mom, Scottie and Mary Lou to Anne's funeral in Yorktown, VA. The service was remarkable for the turnout of those who knew her. Many approached me, her friends, fellow educators, children she had taught, the parents of those children, each one anxious to relate a meaningful connection with Anne. To experience the outpouring of love and affection for my sister from so many people was a great blessing. I spoke at the service and all I remember saying is, "She was the best Christian I knew. If Anne doesn't get into Heaven, nobody does."
Sometime later, Mom and I were talking and I asked how she appeared to be managing so well with Anne's death. "We didn't expect her to survive the surgery for her heart," Mom told me. "After that, we looked at every day we had Anne as a gift." Anne would have been 71 years old today. How fortunate I am that she was my sister. I hope she will put in a good word for me with Jesus at the appropriate time.
The effect of Anne's unexpected death on me was different. Coming on the heels of Dad's subdural hematoma, Mary Lou's sarcoma ordeal, Mom's brush with uterine cancer, and Dad's terminal pancreatic cancer, heavy grief descended upon me, remaining there two years or more; and, in truth, I'm still living on-and-off in the shadow of death.
