Sandra Wood

First Baptist Church of Jayton — July 25, 2026

Scripture Text: 2 Timothy 4:7 — "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith."

Welcome

Family and friends, we gather this morning carrying something heavy and something light at the same time — grief for the woman we've lost, and gratitude for the woman we got to know. Sandy Wood did not live a quiet life, and I don't intend to send her off with a quiet service. If you know anything about Sandy, you know she'd want the music turned up a little louder, even here.

We come this morning to grieve, yes — but grief and Sandy Wood together made for a complicated combination, because everywhere Sandy went, she brought a party. So while our hearts are heavy, let's not forget: this is still, somehow, a Sandy Wood room. Let's honor that.

She Fought the Good Fight

Paul writes to Timothy near the end of his own life, and he doesn't say "I survived." He says, "I have fought the good fight." That's Sandy's language too. Sixty-eight years, and heart disease got the last word only because everything else in Sandy had already had its say. She didn't go quietly, and she didn't go without leaving her mark on every single person in this room.

Sandy fought for thirty-plus years as a Certified Nursing Assistant — one of the hardest, least celebrated jobs there is — and she didn't just clock in. She treated residents at Kent County Nursing Home like family. Costume days. Music turned up too loud. Making people laugh on their hardest days. That's not a job description; that's a calling lived out with her whole chest.

Scripture tells us in Galatians 6:2 to "carry each other's burdens." Sandy did that for strangers who became family, one shift at a time, for three decades. That's the good fight.

She Finished the Race — Loudly, and On Her Own Terms

Sandy was voted Miss Spirit her senior year at Aspermont High, and near as I can tell, she never let anyone take that title back. If her kids or grandkids were on a field or a court or a stage, you didn't wonder if Sandy was there — you heard her before you saw her. That's a woman who showed up. Fully. Loudly. Without apology.

And can we just say it plainly — Sandy had opinions. About music. About Van Halen versus Van Hagar, which apparently was not up for debate. About how things ought to be done. She said what she thought, and if you disagreed, she'd grin and explain, at length, why you were wrong.

I think there's something honest and even holy about that kind of person. Proverbs 27:19 says "as water reflects the face, so one's life reflects the heart." Sandy's heart was not hidden from anybody. What you saw was what you got — a woman who loved fiercely, laughed loudly, and never once made you guess where you stood with her.

She Kept the Faith — In the People She Loved

Sandy leaves behind children who, by every account, inherited her determination, her humor, and — they'll admit it themselves — a touch of her stubborn streak. That's not a bad inheritance. That's a legacy.

She leaves behind brothers, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nieces and nephews who have story after story after story — and I'd guess most of them end in laughing so hard you couldn't breathe.

And she was welcomed home. By her husband Steven. By her parents. By her brother Steven "Gomer." And — because this obituary made sure to mention it, and rightly so — by Scrappy, Peanut, Athena, Achilles, and Apollo, tails wagging at the gate. Sandy's love didn't have small categories. It just had love, given freely, to whoever needed it.

John 14:2-3 tells us that Jesus goes to prepare a place for us, so that where He is, we may be also. I have to believe Heaven got a lot louder, and a lot more fun, on July 19th.

What We Do With This

Here's my charge to you, and it comes straight from the obituary itself, because honestly, Sandy already told us exactly what to do:

"Don't be afraid to turn the music up a little louder, laugh until your stomach hurts, cheer a little too enthusiastically, and always speak your mind."

That's not just a eulogy line. That's a way to grieve her well. Sandy didn't live small, and she wouldn't want to be mourned small either.

So today, cry if you need to — that's love with nowhere to go. But somewhere between today and tomorrow, turn the music up. Say what's on your heart. Cheer too loud at your kid's game. Live a little more like Sandy lived — full volume, full heart, no filter on the love.

Closing

Sandy fought her fight. She finished her race — with spirit, right up to the end. And she kept the faith, in the people she poured her life into.

"Love you kiddo." That's how her family chose to close her story. I think that's exactly how we ought to close this service too.

Let's pray.

Heavenly Father, we thank You for Sandy — for her laughter, her stubbornness, her whole loud heart. We grieve because we loved her, and we trust You because You love her still. Comfort this family in the days ahead. Let them feel Your presence in the quiet moments and hear Sandy's voice in the loud, joyful ones. We commit her to You now, trusting in the hope we have through Jesus Christ. Amen.