A Collection of Life Stories for Those Who Believe

By Sandy Samples-Jones

MYRA JONES

“I WANT TO GO SEE JOHN”

Myra was a good Methodist woman. I think that’s what she would have wanted you to know about her first and foremost. She was also my husband Don’s beloved mother. Beautiful with flaming red hair, Myra was born in Tennessee but ended up spending her latter years in Florida with her husband John. We all called him Daddy John and we all mourned his passing….way too early, we all thought….from pancreatic cancer. But Myra, even though she was a strong woman, could not stand being away from John and talked to Jesus every night about this lonely life she now found herself in the midst of. Don and I were there with her most of the time after Daddy John died. The beginnings of Alzheimers and heart disease had already started rearing their ugly heads. And every night during the next two years I would hear her, at night, in her bedroom alone talking to Jesus. She’d say, “Jesus, please just take me in my sleep…I want to go see John”.

And, almost two years to the day, He did just that…and exactly as she had asked. Myra had been one of the people that had led me to the Lord. Her faith helped lead me by example about a year before. So I was just a baby Christian. And Don was from the old school of religion….Trust in God, but tie your horse up tight. Myra (Mom) had told both of us that complete trust and faith were the most important things we had to learn to do. And that’s why the story I’m fixing to tell you was such a life changing experience for the both of us.

Exactly to the day, Don and I found ourselves walking into the same funeral home in Orlando we had walked into two years earlier. Mom had a plot waiting beside her John at Chappell Hill cemetery…a beautiful place with high fences around the property and exquisite Florida landscaping. All the kids and grandkids came in from all over the country and all her folks from Tennessee and Ohio came to say their goodbyes to this Godly woman. One of her favorite nieces, Cheryl, picked out the most beautiful floral arrangement I have ever seen. It was a large white cross made of snow white roses with a slash of amazing blood red roses across the middle. Out of all the flowers, this one stood out like a light in the dark. After the graveside services, we were all whisked back to the funeral home and Don and I were told that we could come out and spend some quiet time the next morning…they would have the grave filled in and all. And we decided we would do just that. So we snuck out before everyone got up the next morning and went out to the cemetery and immediately noticed how beautiful the grave looked with all the flowers, but that the white cross was gone. I (baby Christian) was euphoric….it was confirmation in my soul that everything Mom had told me was true and all I’ve got to say is “Wow What A Feeling”! Don (old school), on the other hand, was madder than a junk yard dog. He stormed into the cemetery office demanding an explanation. The fellow that had filled in the grave remembered that cross and loaded Don up in the golf cart and they covered every square foot of that property…and no cross. He got back into the car and I told him that Mom had taken that one with her! As we pulled out of the cemetery, Don turned on the radio, which was set on WHOO Country Radio in Orlando, and the song that was playing was “The Old Rugged Cross”. Don turned white as a ghost and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as we both realized what really happened to that cross. Myra exchanged it for a Crown!