Last Class

Every once in a while, you meet a person you will never forget. Linda Tillett is one of those people.

Linda’s family. the Hofflers, moved to Manteo when she was a child and she has lived there for nearly seven decades.  As a teenager, she raced homemade hydrofoil boats in Shallowbag Bay near downtown Manteo.  One year she won the Powderpuff Derby Race.

When Linda was a senior in high school, she and some friends got in trouble for stealing an outhouse and making a homecoming float with it. She has never been one to blend into the scenery.

Linda has been a hairdresser for many years and has always dressed beautifully. But that has never kept her from getting her hands dirty, taking on menial tasks, and staying late at church to empty the garbage after a meal. She has a robust sense of humor, a heart for helping people, and most of all, a passion for studying and teaching the Bible.

She taught Sunday school and Bible studies at Manteo First Assembly for almost forty-five years, working with four different pastors; Steve was privileged to be one of them. It was always a joy to have her in our weekly staff meeting and benefit from her wisdom and input.

When COVID hit, Linda willingly embraced online teaching, even though her favorite thing was talking to people, not to a camera. But she wasn’t about to let a thing like a pandemic get in her way. (This is the graphic I made for her online classes.)

Toward the end of our time in Manteo,  Steve honored Linda for her years of teaching.

Several months ago . . .

Linda lost thirty pounds in a short amount of time. A couple of weeks later, she was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer.

When we were in Manteo nine days ago, we went to visit Linda as soon as arrived on Saturday night.  She was frail and tired but if anything, her eyes shone brighter than they ever have, the fire inside her burning unabated.

As we chatted for a few minutes, we found out she hadn’t lost her sense of humor, her love for people, or her heart for God.  We went in there to be an encouragement to her but she was, as always, an encouragement to us instead.

Due to her decreased stamina, Linda hadn’t planned to attend the 75th-anniversary service of the church that we were in town for.  However, at the last minute, she changed her mind and on that noteworthy Sunday, her son wheeled her into a place at the back of the sanctuary.

At the close of the service, Pastor Ivy mentioned that Linda was there that morning after many weeks of not being able to attend. Through tears, he talked about her and the influence she’d had on the church over the years. He then asked the visiting pastors in the room to join him in the back of the sanctuary to pray with her.

Pastor Ivy invited the congregation to turn around and stretch out a hand in her direction during the prayer as a show of support.  Since I was sitting in the front row, I got the chance to witness the church full of people turning in Linda’s direction. With hands and hearts outstretched and tears flowing freely, we all prayed for the one who had prayed for us for so many years.

When the Amen was said, Linda asked for the microphone and began to speak her last words to her church family, words of beauty and strength, words that pointed, as always, to the truths of the Bible.  What made that moment even more poignant was that three of the four pastors she had served with were in the room to hear her voice one final time.

I was in the lobby after the service when Linda’s son brought her out in her wheelchair.  She looked weary but energized, the beautiful orange of her sweater bringing reflected color to her wan face. I got to speak one last word of farewell to her as she disappeared down the hall and out to her car.

As I thought about Linda’s departure that day, it occurred to me that she had to be taken through the multi-purpose room in order to get to the wheelchair ramp. And the multi-purpose room just happened to be the place where she had taught thousands of Sunday morning and Wednesday night classes.

As she passed through that sacred space one last time, I wondered if some part of her sensed the presence of all the people whose lives she impacted. I wondered if she heard the echoes of all the words of all the lessons she had taught. I wondered if she could feel the love collected in that room by those who had been challenged and changed by her words.

Linda remains at home in hospice care and her time is growing shorter. But even in the lingering of her last days, many people are visiting her—to have meaningful conversations with her, to pray with her, to hear the last words of blessing from their beloved teacher and friend.  In fact,  the son of a former pastor even flew into Manteo just to have thirty minutes with Linda before flying home again.

Linda’s last class was not taught from a podium.

Instead, her last class was taught seated in the back of a sanctuary. It was spoken to people with outstretched hands, outstretched hearts,  and tears rolling off their chins.

And for a little while yet, Linda will continue to teach from the bed where she lies–waiting to meet the One she has loved and spoken about all these years.

What an honor it has been for Steve and I know her; what an honor for us to be a part of Linda’s last class.