You can normally find Lou Anne Taylor (pictured above right) behind the door of her Village Oaks apartment. She’s lived there for 11 years. However on one particular summer morning I found her out front. It wasn’t unbearable yet. There was a little breeze and our conversation was like a feather caught in it…here and there, this and that.
Lou Anne sat in her wheelchair, her 49 year-old daughter Francis on the stairs. I grabbed a nearby folding chair. When we walk up to folks, we try to make a few things clear. We are not law enforcement. We are not investigating them for wrong-doing. We are looking to make friends and help make their life better if we can.
And, in this case, next thing you know, Lou Anne is calling me “baby” and we are knee-deep in life. I made a list of what would make her life better at Village Oaks—which included improving the air conditioning and getting a handle on the loud boys in the middle of the night.
I eventually asked about her story. Maybe there are two reasons I ask about “story.” First, because everyone has one. Second, because it gives great freedom. They can tell me what they want. And maybe I’ll tell a little of mine. And all of the sudden we both have a new friend.
Lou Anne is 72 years old. Most of her story took place in Minden, Louisiana. She talks proudly about holding 3 jobs while raising Francis alone. From 6am to 3pm she cooked and cleaned at the local Army base. From 3 to 8pm, she worked as a maid in two private homes.
Lou Anne has trouble walking. She also has trouble with her heart. And diabetes. And emphysema. And arthritis. And “a couple other things; I forget.”
I also learned some of Francis’ story. She lost her husband in 2008. She likes BBQ. She doesn’t think she goes to church enough. She works full-time for a company which produces linens…often leaving the apartment well before dawn. “So you live here?” I asked. “Yes. She needs me,” she responded while pointing to her mother.
Lou Anne has a few opinions. At one point in the conversation Lou Anne mentioned the “babies having babies” around Village Oaks…the problem of young ladies having children in order to collect welfare. Lou Anne took a different approach. “What did you do with Francis?” I asked. Francis cut in to give me the answer herself: “She turned me around!” As in spanking. Lou Anne concurred: “Yessir!” In summary, I can tell you Lou Anne’s opinion is that parenting is the answer.
Lou Anne typically crosses Overton Road on Sundays to Kingdom Missionary Baptist Church for the 11am service. I told her someday I’ll bring my family. And then maybe we could all have lunch together. She smiled. I asked her what she’d like. “Catfish.” I told her I'm from California and we don't really do catfish. But I would try it.
I don’t remember how heaven came up in our conversation. Maybe we were day-dreaming because of the increasing temperatures beginning to treat us like a frog in a frying pan.
“I ain’t doing this again!” she said, referring to the temperature down there.
“What do you think it’s going to be like in heaven?” I asked.
“Better than this,” she said, referring to her current life. “Livin’ with God. Every day a holiday.”
It’s true that heaven is going to be better than living in Lou Anne’s current body, in her current apartment. And, until then, we have an opportunity with every Lou Anne that we meet…to love. To build friendships, to serve, and to bless and enrich their lives however we can. We’ll work on the air conditioner and work on those loud boys. We've already taken care of the catfish, dropping it off one morning. She ate it for breakfast. And yes, we had a great time!
-- Dean Wilson
