Barbara Duncan

Back in the 1900s, as my friend Elaine likes to call it, though it was really the 1990s and somehow still sounds impressive, there was a Hallmark card featuring an older woman known for her short, witty, often sarcastic, tell-it-like-it-is way of saying things. In high school, my friend Tiffany and I would often write notes. This was long before cell phones existed, and we loved sharing cards with each other. Back then, cards didn’t cost nearly as much.

When we moved to Durham, North Carolina, and Wes began pastoring at Bahama Baptist Church, there were about fifty people there. We were thrilled for the job opportunity and quickly grew to love the small community. Barbara and Jim Duncan were there, and when I met Barbara, I immediately thought of that cute, funny woman on the Hallmark card. Everyone has a unique story, and I love to get to know people.

Barbara was harder to get to know at first. But toward the end of her life, she opened up and shared her story with me. I will always be grateful she did.

When I think about Barbara’s life, three reflections stand out to me.

Jim lost his leg in his younger years, so he understood Barbara’s pain when, later in her life, she also lost her leg due to vascular disease. If anyone had reason to stay home on Sundays, it was this older couple. With two prosthetic legs and a thirty-minute drive to church, they had every excuse not to go. Yet they were often the first ones there. They had a routine of stopping at Bojangles, eating their biscuits in the car, and waiting until the church doors opened.

Barbara was a creative. Our boys were four years old, and I was chasing around an active one-year-old. Our third son had yet to arrive, but he would later enjoy the church nursery where Barbara had painted nursery rhyme scenes in one room and an under-the-sea theme in the other. Our oldest loved all things sea creatures. We moved to Bahama in January and celebrated his fourth birthday with an ocean-themed cake. It was just perfect and made the children feel so welcomed and loved. She never drew attention to herself.

Sometimes when you talked with Barbara, you might wonder what she thought of you, yet beneath that was a deep love, care, and concern for people. Her faith was quietly lived out through generosity and acts of service. When you arrived at church and walked into the fellowship hall, there was a large hanging quilt made up of squares with the names of church members, along with a verse, a quote, praying hands, or another meaningful image. As new members joined the church, she continued adding to the quilt. Skillfully, she also crafted a smaller quilt of the Lord’s Prayer. Her final quilt, gifted to the church, felt like a masterpiece, a true labor of love. It was a large, framed rendition of the Lord’s Supper. It was stunning and beautiful, a reminder of the night before Jesus laid down His life so that He could give us eternal life.

A few months before she died, I began visiting Barbara, and each time, I was the one who left feeling blessed. With the boys growing up and entering a new season of life, I had the time to spend an afternoon with her. On one particular day, she shared many stories from her earlier life. I was absolutely fascinated by her stories and her attitude. I left thinking, Barbara Duncan is one strong lady.

Even as we watched her decline, she remained tough, yet tender in the way she thought of others. Wes and I visited her a few more times, praying and reading Scripture with her. As we were preparing to head out of the country on a big trip, with a snowstorm approaching, I had errands to run near where they lived. The day before we were set to leave, I felt compelled to visit her once more.

It was clear the end was near, and she was unresponsive. I cried and felt deeply grateful for her, for knowing her, and for the way she had impacted our lives and loved us. Those earlier visits, especially the one when she had opened up and shared her story, meant so much.

After saying goodbye to her, I was reminded of something the former interim pastor at Bahama Baptist Church, Dr. Zedick, wisely reflected on near the end of his life. He said, “I’ve got one more big trip, one more final destination.” Heaven, to be with the Lord.

Barbara died that night. Before she died, she was pointing upward. She was heading for her big trip, her final destination, from death to life. Life everlasting.

“And this is the testimony: God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son.”

- I John 5:11