She Was Not Alone

Margie was 90 years old on Sunday. She came to church, as she has for many years, and sat near the front. She sat quietly near the front in a bright purple blouse.

When they asked her to come forward she walked slowly from her seat near the front and stepped onto the dais. She stood there in her purple blouse and her white hair and looked out at the rest of us, holding the hand of the man who had walked with her from her seat near the front.

The piano began to play. The man beside her began to sing, and the congregation sang, too. Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday to Margie.

It was hard to tell, but I think she had tears in her eyes, too. And she was not alone.

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