The chair is hers.
But she no longer occupies it.
The cash register that was hers still takes money.
But death has taken Eloise.
For decades, Eloise worked in Food Service at Moody Bible Institute. She was one of a kind. When you showed up with your $4.50 sandwich, she would announce the price to you as “Four hundred and fifty dollars.”
When our son was very young, he helped himself to a few candies without paying. Upon discovering his heist, we made him stand in line, apologize to Eloise and hand her the money owed.
Eloise looked after me. Looked after all of us. An embarrassing number of times, I would leave glasses or notebooks or calendars behind…only to get a kind phone call from Eloise a bit later.
Eloise had a great heart for urban ministry, prisoners in specific. She was part of a ministry that cooked a Thanksgiving dinner for every inmate in Cook County Jail. She gave her money, her vacation time and her energy to this ministry—and invited the rest of us to do the same.
I remember showing up at the County Jail to help out, working side by side with Eloise and a few inmates…making macaroni, and then learning to knead dough for the homemade yeast rolls. I was reprimanded by one of the sisters for working the dough too hard—though they still gave me an entire pan of those tasty hot rolls at day's end.
But Eloise's grandest legacy, perhaps, is her prayer life. Few have prayed—or believed—with her conviction. That’s why this past November, when I was particularly burdened about an international trip, I went straight to Eloise.
Her life was so much bigger than her work as a cashier with Food Service. She who spent so many years ringing up breakfasts and lunches…will now dine at the wedding supper of the Lamb.
Suddenly, I'm hungry for heaven.