Janet Shellito was an Anna. Like her faithful Biblical counterpart, Janet was waiting to see Jesus. His return in her lifetime was an event as matter-of-fact as the mail arriving and venerable as, well, seeing Christ face to face. She couldn’t wait. I imagine there’s little difference in Janet’s earthly and heavenly mindset. Despite being confined to a body that wouldn’t always cooperate, Janet lived in biblical reality. With the same simplicity that she waited for Jesus’ return, Janet expected the world to yield to the truth of His Word. If she encountered an aberration, she prayed and waited for things to return to God’s system. The day she saw a bumper sticker advocating integrated world religions, she told me about it as if she’d witnessed a waterfall flowing upwards. I remember her speaking out loud to her injured back, reminding it that the Lord created it straight.
I grew up knowing Janet at church. The first time I felt compelled to receive the gift of tongues, I was twenty-one and Janet was eighty-four. I scanned those waiting at the altar to pray for people and approached Janet. She had a serene confidence about her that drew me in. We prayed and waited. Nothing happened then. I was discouraged; Janet was certain. She urged me to go home and continue to wait for His power to fall on me. I followed her counsel, but didn’t receive tongues for seven more years. When it happened, Janet was the third person I told, following my mom and roommate. She was thrilled. The next time we met together, she hugged me and dragged me over to the kitchen table so we could sit down and pray.
“Let me hear your new language, Brooke!”
She held my hand and began speaking in tongues.
“Come on, let’s hear it!” she coached.
I was awkward at first and Janet encouraged me to pray in tongues every day “to build my Holy Spirit muscles”.
After returning from my first trip to China – five weeks of teaching the summer after graduating from college – I was hungry for deeper spiritual growth and wanted someone to disciple me. I prayed and felt led to ask Janet. She and I had had little interaction since praying together one year earlier, but she was excited at the prospect of meeting together. Janet seemed to miss the fact that I was coming to her for wisdom and chatted on about how she needed someone from a younger generation to teach her more about the Lord. We met on Saturday mornings for three years. We’d talk about what we’d learned in our personal Bible study that week and pray together. Sometimes we’d break routine and go out to breakfast at the Old Country Buffet in Kirkland. There were always several of her acquaintances eating there, like a high school reunion with waffles and hash browns. Janet would introduce me, “This is my girl.” Each bite took ages to make it to her mouth as we chatted. I’m a quick eater and had to make a secret game of staying even with her pace. It seems obvious now, but at the time I didn’t see that those outings were never about the food.
I went to China again in 2005, that time for one year. Janet and I stayed in contact. When I returned to the US, we met on and off for another three years. Then, I decided to move to China yet another time. I have a vivid memory of our last meeting before I left for Beijing. We stood in her front yard next door to the fire station.
Janet held me at arm’s length and said, “Now, Brooke, if the Lord returns and we’re raptured while you’re in China, how will He know where to find you? Will He know?”
The question puzzled me. I couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. She waited for my reply, with inquisitive eyes never leaving mine. I realized she meant it.
“He’ll know where I am, Janet,” I said, “He’s the one who’s sending me there, right?”
“Well, I want you to meet me at the east gate in Heaven,” she said, “That’s what it says in the Bible.”
I agreed and drove off, watching her wave at me in my rear view mirror.
Jesus didn’t return that year in Beijing, and as far as I know, He is still biding His time. Last night, ninety-three year old Janet stopped waiting and went to Him. I will miss her. Terribly. There are pieces of me that have been forever shaped by her remarkable precedent. Today, may I choose to see the world through God’s reality. May I pray in assured expectation. May I grow older, without retreating from His call on my life to serve Him fully every day. Like Janet.
I will meet you at the east gate, beloved friend. Wait for me there.
I grew up knowing Janet at church. The first time I felt compelled to receive the gift of tongues, I was twenty-one and Janet was eighty-four. I scanned those waiting at the altar to pray for people and approached Janet. She had a serene confidence about her that drew me in. We prayed and waited. Nothing happened then. I was discouraged; Janet was certain. She urged me to go home and continue to wait for His power to fall on me. I followed her counsel, but didn’t receive tongues for seven more years. When it happened, Janet was the third person I told, following my mom and roommate. She was thrilled. The next time we met together, she hugged me and dragged me over to the kitchen table so we could sit down and pray.
“Let me hear your new language, Brooke!”
She held my hand and began speaking in tongues.
“Come on, let’s hear it!” she coached.
I was awkward at first and Janet encouraged me to pray in tongues every day “to build my Holy Spirit muscles”.
After returning from my first trip to China – five weeks of teaching the summer after graduating from college – I was hungry for deeper spiritual growth and wanted someone to disciple me. I prayed and felt led to ask Janet. She and I had had little interaction since praying together one year earlier, but she was excited at the prospect of meeting together. Janet seemed to miss the fact that I was coming to her for wisdom and chatted on about how she needed someone from a younger generation to teach her more about the Lord. We met on Saturday mornings for three years. We’d talk about what we’d learned in our personal Bible study that week and pray together. Sometimes we’d break routine and go out to breakfast at the Old Country Buffet in Kirkland. There were always several of her acquaintances eating there, like a high school reunion with waffles and hash browns. Janet would introduce me, “This is my girl.” Each bite took ages to make it to her mouth as we chatted. I’m a quick eater and had to make a secret game of staying even with her pace. It seems obvious now, but at the time I didn’t see that those outings were never about the food.
I went to China again in 2005, that time for one year. Janet and I stayed in contact. When I returned to the US, we met on and off for another three years. Then, I decided to move to China yet another time. I have a vivid memory of our last meeting before I left for Beijing. We stood in her front yard next door to the fire station.
Janet held me at arm’s length and said, “Now, Brooke, if the Lord returns and we’re raptured while you’re in China, how will He know where to find you? Will He know?”
The question puzzled me. I couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. She waited for my reply, with inquisitive eyes never leaving mine. I realized she meant it.
“He’ll know where I am, Janet,” I said, “He’s the one who’s sending me there, right?”
“Well, I want you to meet me at the east gate in Heaven,” she said, “That’s what it says in the Bible.”
I agreed and drove off, watching her wave at me in my rear view mirror.
Jesus didn’t return that year in Beijing, and as far as I know, He is still biding His time. Last night, ninety-three year old Janet stopped waiting and went to Him. I will miss her. Terribly. There are pieces of me that have been forever shaped by her remarkable precedent. Today, may I choose to see the world through God’s reality. May I pray in assured expectation. May I grow older, without retreating from His call on my life to serve Him fully every day. Like Janet.
I will meet you at the east gate, beloved friend. Wait for me there.
