The Bishop - Chapter Three: The Death of Miss Lillian Littlestature

Chapter Three - The Death of Miss Lillian Littlestature

It was the end of an era.  Miss Lillian Littlestature was one of those “old oaks” of the parish you think will live forever.  She was ninety-seven, I believe, when she died, although she always told people, devilishly, that her parents had lost track of the year she was born given that she was the twelfth of twelve children.  Was this a joke? Surely, it must have been, but Lillian had outlived all her siblings so there was no one left who could corroborate the tale, and she milked it for all it was worth.  I suspect it was her sheer force of character that contributed to her longevity. She was indomitable - a short, stocky woman who never failed to speak her mind. Nevertheless, he had been the best friend of every clergyman who ever served at Hampton’s Corners during her long life.  

As a child, she was always at the church, her ancestral parish, tagging along behind her mother who ran, or rather was the chancel guild.  The Littlestature brood would arrive arrive at church every Saturday morning with their mother.  The older ones would be given tasks such as sweeping the nave or watching the younger siblings as they played. At first Lillian was but a babe in her mother's arms as the battle-worn mother went about her duties, but as the years went on and Lillian grew, she to act as her mother’s personal chancel guild assistant, folding altar linens, arranging flowers, or once a month, setting out the elements on the credence table for the monthly celebration of Holy Communion.  Over the course of the morning, the siblings that were still young enough to be trucked off to church would scatter and play, or skulk away to escape further chores. Only Lillian would remain with her mother until everything was perfectly in place.  And then they would sit quietly, and stare up at window over the altar, which depicted the Ascension of Jesus.  They would remain there for a while, without words, and then Mrs. Littlestature would send Lillian off to gather the brood.  

For Lillian, her church was everything. She learned from her mother how to care for the linens, to tend to the very fabric of the church, itself, and to make everything ready so that the clergyman could go about his ministrations effortlessly and seamlessly the next day.  For her whole life, at least until the last year or so, she would go about these holy tasks reverently, attentively, with great solemnity, but with a profound joy in her heart that she was first and foremost serving her Lord in the way she ought.

When her mother died, she assumed that grand old lady’s role, and although she had no children of her own - for she had never married - she trained up many a young woman (and the occasional young lad) as her mother had trained her.  Sadly, the day came when she just could not do it any more. It wasn’t leaving her old family home to go into the nursing home that pained her the most, it was leaving her church.  She was not well enough to attend any more, or get herself there.  For the first little while, Reg Canon, one of the church wardens would pick her up and bring her to church, but eventually, she just got too feeble to leave the home.  

Mr. Perkins faithfully visited her twice a month and would bring her Holy Communion.  Of all the clergyman who had served during her lifetime, and there had been many, she had a special bond with Mr. Perkins.  He was her favourite.  She thought of him as the son she never had.  She would needle him, tease him, vex him, and complain to him, but she loved him dearly, and would severely chastise anyone else who might dare to criticize him.

During one of their final visits, she had extracted a promise from him that he would never leave Hampton’s Corners, and in truth, he had made that promise in good faith.  He had not in his wildest imaginings have ever thought that Canon Swiftman would nominate him from the floor of Synod to be their next bishop, nor did he think, hastily accepting the nomination, that he would have been elected. Yet, he had been and he had broken his promise to Lillian, and in this, he broken her heart.

“This means you will be leaving us,” she said solemnly when he visited her at the home the following day to break the news of his election to her.

“Yes Lillian…I’m afraid so…”

She sighted a long sigh, “Oh, Mr. Perkins, you have broken this old lady’s heart.”  

And within a year, she was dead.

Maddie had made a point of continuing to visit Lillian after Mr. Perkins had left — Judy Jumblejump had ensured that Maddie knew that Lillian had been the matriarch of the parish, and Mr. Perkins’ favourite.  Wanting to do the right thing, she visited her every week, even more frequently than Mr. Perkins had done, and brought her Holy Communion. She got to know her surprisingly well in that year after Mr. Perkins had left.  However, the Lillian she got to know, was but a shadow of the powerful, indomitable little lady that everyone else knew, that many understandably feared, and all deeply respected.  She was slipping away, and when she died, it was like part of the church died with her. The fact that she might someday die, that one day she might not be there, was the furthest thought from anyone’s mind in Hampton’s Corners.  

Maddie had done her best, and Lillian was courteous and pleasant with her, to everyone’s surprise, given that Lillian was a part of that generation that sternly opposed the ordination of women.  Yet, she received Maddie’s ministrations with grace and in a true Christianly manner.  Maddie knew, however, and indeed her whole experience in her short time at Hampton’s Corners had taught her, that she was no “Mr. Perkins”, not to Lillian, not to Judy, not to any of them, and she wondered if they would ever truly accept her.

“So, have you called Mr. Perkins yet?” Judy asked Maddie.  The people of Hampton’s Corners still referred to their old rector, now bishop, as “Mr.” even though he was now in episcopal orders.  It was as if he was still “theirs”, that he belonged to them, rather than the whole diocese now.

It had only been a week since Maddie had learned from Judy that the old men in the parish were referring to her as “Miss Maddie.”  In fairness to the old fellows, they were trying to pay her the appropriate respect, and offer her equal respect to that they had given to their beloved Mr. Perkins.  They would have used her last name, but most of them found it unpronounceable, being of Polish derivation. Judy had been enraged that they would address her as"Miss Maddie".  “It’s so condescending,” she had growled, “They will never respect you now!  I told you that you should have stuck with "Rev." You could have made them call you Mother, or even Father, or anything but ‘Miss Maddie’.  It makes you sound like a nursery school teacher!”  

The strange thing though, was that Maddie kind of liked it. One would have thought she would have been just as enraged as Judy. After all, she had been spoiling for a fight. But, at the end of the day, she wanted them to call her “Maddie”, and if the addition of “Miss” in front of her name made the old fellows feel better, like they were paying her the respect they thought she was due, then she could live with it. In fact, she found it kind of endearing. And Judy seemed to hate it.  She liked that.  She was beginning think Judy was the problem, not those “old men.”

“I sent Bishop Perkins a note last night,” Maddie said curtly.

“So is he coming?  Will he take the service?”

“What?”

“Will he be taking the service?

“Why would he be taking the service?” Maddie asked, feigning ignorance.

“Because he and Lillian – they were very close – and she was the mother of this church!”

Maddie thought that she was supposed to be the mother of this church, but no mind. Bishop Perkins would certainly not be taking the service.

..."The Bishop" continues on Monday...