My "Aunt Mae"

This . . .
I have an "Aunt Mae" , my mother's sister, who was a missionary in Mexico for as long as I knew her. I was thinking about her today.
She generally made it back to the states a couple of times a year and we almost always saw her at those times. She would always ask me how my relationship with Jesus was going and talk to me a bit about Kingdom things, and then maybe begin to count my ribs. She never got past three until I was busting out laughing.
Many relatives kind of hated to see her coming . . . I always looked forward to our talks.
The advice I most remember was having her tell me, "Always keep your eyes on Jesus".
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That . . .
Aunt Mae was vistiting us here in Monticello one time. My mom and dad had gone off to work leaving Aunt Mae alone in the house.
It just happened that the "bug man" came to the house that morning. Of course Aunt Mae had no idea who he was. As was his custom, he rang the doorbell, but then just came on in yelling, "BUG MAN, BUG MAN". My aunt didn't know wether to run or hit him with whatever she could find.
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This is That . . .
Aunt Mae started many churches in Mexico, and many orphanages. She lived with some other Missionaries in a rather large house. They would often take people in off the street to live with them for a time, and would put the people to work in various ways to pay their way. Many, many of these came to Jesus as they shared the gospel. And so, as time went on, she developed quite an extended family.
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She always told us that we would be unable to come to her funeral, because in Mexico when people die they don't keep them, they bury them. So when she died, about 15 years ago, none of us could go except another sister, Grace, who immediately got on a plane and arrived just in time for the funeral.
It was a nice service, but Grace couldn't understand why there were so few people. With all the lives Anna Mae had touched it seemed that the church should have been overflowing, but it wasn't.
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And then the answer came. As they made their way to the cemetery quite a distance away, there were people from surounding villages lined up all along the sides of the road on both sides to pay their respects.
And then they all made their way to the cemetery, and after the burial they didn't leave, but stayed singing hymns of praise and worshipping for several hours. I believe the Angels were singing in heaven as well.
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One day I will see my Aunt Mae again. How wonderful it will be to have her tell me all about Jesus and count my ribs again.