1: Diane Button had been living in Nashville for only a year when she was diagnosed with breast cancer.
“Whether it was divine providence or sheer luck, during a time when our family truly needed help,” Diane writes in her book What Matters Most: Lessons the Dying Teach Us About Living, “people showed up from almost everywhere.”
One afternoon, while recovering from surgery and starting chemotherapy, Diane heard a knock at the door.
When she opened the door, her neighbor Becky gave her a big hug. Then, “she informed me in no uncertain terms that I would not be cooking or worrying about dinner for the next few months,” Diane remembers.
“She explained that this is what Nashville women do for each other, especially when it’s a mom with young kids.”
With that, Becky turned and walked away. Diane stood there speechless, a tear running down her cheek.
The next day, she received a calendar for the entire month of November listing the families who had signed up to bring food.
“I stared at the calendar and cried in gratitude for each and every name on that page,” she writes. “I cried even a little harder for the names of the generous people on the list that I didn’t recognize, those giant-hearted humans I had never met before.”
Four nights a week, a new meal arrived. Her kids thought it was the best thing ever.
“They were constantly writing thank-you notes and stopping moms in the hallways at school to thank them for their meals,” Diane remembers.
One night as they finished dinner, Diane’s husband Mark said, “I think Jesus is a very busy woman who makes casseroles.”
2: Getting better at getting better is what RiseWithDrew is all about.
Monday through Thursday, we explore ideas from authors, thought leaders, and exemplary organizations. At the end of each week, we are exploring some of the life lessons from Diane’s book What Matters Most about her experiences as an end-of-life doula.
When Diane met her client, Martine, he had just begun his third round of treatments for an aggressive cancer.
He was sixty years old and was intent on living a full life for as long as he could.
“Martine lived with three of his six children, their partners, and all their children,” Diane writes. “He was always surrounded by a lot of love.”
Martine lived a busy life. “He didn’t strike me as someone who was dying anytime soon,” Diane observes.
His children, though, worried. Martine had little interest in resting, despite the doctor’s recommendations.
“I was told by his children,” she notes, “that he was still working to the point of exhaustion, came home late from work most days, and then played with his grandkids before falling asleep on the sofa each night.”
Diane asked Martine why he worked so hard.
“I learned he was a respected local contractor and that he wasn’t really staying late to work at his job every evening,” she explains.
“Instead, he was leaving work and going to build a fence for a young, single mom who needed a safe place for her kids to play. I also learned that, before starting the fence project, he rebuilt the kitchen in another family’s home, just to help out.”
He shared photos of his work with her. “His workmanship was lovely, but it was his heartfelt desire to serve others that I found most inspiring.”
Diane let Martine know that his children were concerned about his well-being.
He told her point-blank, “The best part of my life, aside from my family, is to be able to help others. I’m not going to stop caring for my neighbors until my feet cannot walk and my arms cannot hug.”
3: Many months passed. One of Diane’s last visits to Martine occurred after he had fallen. When she arrived, his family was circled around him, holding rosary beads, heads bowed, and praying.
“He was unable to walk, so the family brought his bed into the living room, where they could all be huddled together,” Diane recalls. “Everyone was calm, and the only thing I could feel in the room was love and warmth.”
Then, the doorbell rang. A young couple with two kids arrived and marched directly to the kitchen.
“The woman greeted everyone but continued walking past us, holding a large platter of food, covered with foil and towels to keep it warm,” Diane writes.
“Her husband carried a clear plastic bowl overflowing with lettuce and tomatoes. Their daughter followed with a large bag of tangerines, and the little boy, about five years old, was swinging a bag of tortillas at his side.
Everyone reacted with delight as a savory aroma filled the air. As Elena brought the dish to the table, someone exclaimed, “This smells so good, Elena! You are such a fantastic cook! I can’t wait to eat! This looks delicious!”
“What’s for dinner, Elena?” asked one of the grandkids.
“It’s pastel azteca. Your grandfather’s favorite dish!” Elena said proudly.
Diane smiled and said, “It smells delicious, Elena. What’s pastel azteca?”
“It’s like a Mexican casserole,” she said with a smile.
Diane returned Elena’s smile, feeling as if she saw Jesus again.
“And in a moment, Jesus was a four-feet-ten lady with a loving, generous heart and a fresh-baked casserole.”
Diane’s advice: “Be generous with our hands and our hearts. No matter who we are, we’re never too young, too old, to make a difference.”
More next week!
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Reflection: Where in my everyday life could I quietly “show up with a casserole” or a practical act of service for someone who is struggling.
Action: Identify one person or family carrying a heavy burden right now and do something concrete for them this week—bring a meal, run an errand, fix something, or simply sit and listen—treating that small act as holy work.
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