A Goodwill Ambassador is described as “ a person who advocates for a specific cause on the basis of their notability. Goodwill ambassadors generally deliver goodwill or promote ideals from one entity to another, or to a population”

If there ever was a person who deserved such a designation on all levels of life, it would be Don Bigler.

Our family came to West Chester in the early 70s and settled into life here and at the United Methodist Church of West Chester. Back then it was Reverend Flood and Rigby, but the more familiar faces were the members of the congregation. There were the Bassets, the Biglers and  Werners, as well as the Haydens, Foss’s, and Ruth Gotwalls who taught us all to sing in three part harmony.

Based on where we lived we went to different schools, but what kept these friendships together to this day was the church. Make no mistake, that even if we did go to Sunday School  (for a while, but then not so much, and held our own meetings in the Nursery) we had MYF and canoe trips, mission trips to Kentucky and WEB.
We were trusted because of said parents (disclaimer:not mine) but the Bigler and the Werner family for sure. Regardless of shenanigans that we may embroiled ourselves in, we were still good kids.

Kids who grow up and mature, but come home from college and invite me over to dinner at their homes. By this time, my home had long been broken, and my present living situation was not the best. But I had my friends and their families who basically were my surrogates, and I celebrated holidays at their tables and I will forever be grateful for that.

These were old school parents, the type that are known today as the Silent Generation. Perhaps, in name only, as they were just as active and fun as we are now, at their age back then. Not only did they know how to have fun, they also knew how to give their time and energy.

Don Bigler, was at the door every Sunday with a firm handshake, a giant grin because he genuinely was glad to see you. Then he and the aforementioned ,would march down the aisle every week to pass the collection plate, and reverently remove the linen on the communion rail, even though one time we cringed inwardly. Don ran the show behind the scenes, quietly, but we all knew it.

Over the years I would run into Don in numerous places. Ringing the bell to collect donations, White Cane Day, selling fruit, making wreaths as he was a firm believer in helping his community. The last time I saw him, and to the confusion of my husband, he was standing outside at Wendy’s drive thru. I rolled down my window, and leaned out to give a nice gentleman a kiss. Toddy was looking at me as if I had three heads, when I simply explained, it was Jay’s dad.

Even after Jay and Heather had moved up north, I was still in contact with his parents, as I had sold them their computer and offered support on those occasions that they needed it.  It always came with a lovely visit and meal, and I truly miss those times. They always made me feel like I was part of the family.

The way he went wasn’t what we thought, and he always showed good will to his family, his church and his community. He was more than an ambassador, he was the church, the biggest giver of his time, his talents, his unending devotion to the causes he believed in.

The most we can do is honor him, and if we all do half as much from this day on, to every day thereafter, we may almost do as much good, as he did his entire life. Its a tragic loss, but I’m pretty sure if I do get to the Pearly Gates one day, he’s going to be there with a firm handshake and smile to greet me.