Beulah Jenkins by Jerry Hill

Beulah Jenkins has been on my mind a lot this week.

A little background: Miss Jenkins was an older woman who lived alone across the street from the church, my dad pastored when I was just a boy. She was single, having never married. Back at that time, she would have been considered a “spinster.” I remember two things about Miss Jenkins. First, she was a very tall, very thin, and very classy woman. Second, when we had our weekly potluck dinners on Wednesday nights, she ate more than anyone there—perhaps more than any two people there. Really. She ate like she hadn’t all week. (As I think back on it now, maybe she hadn’t.)

Back to the story: My dad had the habit of about once a month having everyone in the worship service stand-up and shake hands with all of those around us. As a young kid, I hated doing that. Shaking hands with all of these people and saying something appropriate to them—yuck! Every time he would have the congregation do this, I would complain about it on the way home that he should stop doing this ridiculous ritual. One week after we had endured the handshaking ordeal, I started my complaints as soon as we were in the car. My dad cut me off and said, “let me tell you what Beulah Jenkins said to me today as she left the church.”

I probably gave that grunt that all kids learn at an early age, and he continued. He recounted that she said, “Brother Hill, I do so like it when you have us shake hands. You see, usually, that is the only time I ever touch another person.”

Her words impacted me so much that I still remember them more than five decades later. This nice woman who I saw several times a week never touched anyone except when we shake hands at church. I touched people all the time. My friends on the playground, my siblings (either playing or fighting), and, of course, my parents. The hugs and kisses, the pats on the back, the holding hands that I regularly experienced every day, Miss Jenkins never had. She was alone. No contact. No touching. No hugs. No kisses. I couldn’t imagine living like that. I never complained again about the handshaking ritual.

So, Beulah Jenkins has been on my mind this week. In these days of social distancing, voluntary quarantines, isolating from others, and these days of not touch others, my mind keeps returning to Miss Jenkins. Hers was a life of social distancing. She had none of the tools to stay connected that we have today—email, Facebook, video conferencing, etc. She was truly alone.

The trial of the Coronavirus will eventually pass. I don’t know how soon, but if we are smart and if we work together, we will get through this. And maybe when we do, we will have more empathy for those around us who are living in isolation every day. Those that are isolated because no one is near them physically and those that are alone even when they are in a crowded room. And maybe, just maybe, our community, having gone through a time when we were isolated, will be better able to connect with each other and with those that live in shadows every day.

Beulah Jenkins has been on my mind a lot this week.