IT was not hard to know Jackie. What you saw is what you got. She spoke with a rare frankness about her life and her wishes. But she had a characteristic reserve proper to her cultural background. Within her heart, so infused by the grace of strength and resolve, she entertained a landscape of her own deep thoughts and prayers.
But her strength shone through; as did her hope and trust in God. I am sure that she would approve of the gospel text: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God still and trust in me.” Jackie has placed her trust there, as we too must do so, for she would not want to cause us any sadness, even inconvenience or distress. Such was her care for others. I remember that Florence Nightingale once said that nursing was an art. And so it was for Jackie. All her relationships were art. Like her paintings, fine movements etched by love and respect. No doubt her relationship with God was similarly shaped.
The Resurrection is the centre of Christian faith. It unites us around a hope that we live for ‘something more’ than the world can give. But it is not a hope that takes us out of the present. Jackie, always the loving woman; organised person and concerned friend, was a nurse. In every detail she lived that vocation. It was more than a job. I can still hear her saying: “For the sick it is important to have the best.” And she gave it.
I have always admired nurses. Who doesn’t? So I penned these words for Jackie:
“She whom we love, Our Lady of Compassion, can never die, for love forbids her death. Love has bent down in his old kindly fashion. For wounded people, there shall she dwell, the vanquisher of pain.”
This reminds me of the words of Saint Paul: “For love is stronger than death.” Jackie, in a few short months, you taught me the truth of Saint Paul’s words. You made us laugh and you made us cry.”
(Excepts from the homily for Jackie Kwok, just a wonderful lady of this parish, for too short a time.)