*Ring. Ring*
"Who's there?"
"Someone who cares."
That was the call I received about two hours ago. A woman whose life has more going on than PECO. Her name is May, and she is a wonder. She is, well let's say, seasoned in age. (This is relevant or I never would have mentioned it).
We met in church. She has a unique style of worship. I often envision myself in God's throne room as I sing. She is there. Her lips are moving, her voice is crying out, and her hands -- her hands move in such graceful swirls and swishes. She is being carried away by the Spirit of God. Breathless.
She has a dog grooming business in the basement of her splendid old home. Her son and grandson do most of the grooming, but she helps. She often begs for Scott to bring our Tinkerbell to her for a good groom. "Like putting lipstick on a pig," I say. But she graciously, and with a pssht, extends her offer again.
In her room she has painted these beautiful accents on the walls, and resurrected these worn, sometimes broken, pieces of furniture, carrying anyone who steps inside, to a rustically warm French chateau. Cluttered, but not suffocating. Aged, but not decrepit. A true surprise, as the rest of her home completely belies this delicate little sanctuary. Her handiwork and creativity are marvelous.
Her Bible is a work of art. She has softened its pages with her exhaustive meditations, and has covered what seems like every square inch with love letters to her Heavenly Father. Sometimes, during church, she slides me notes across the red pew cushion. Pages photocopied from her devotional, covered with her calligraphy and intense hieroglyphics. Allowing me the tremendous honor of witnessing how God had spoken to her that morning. The beauty and passion that saturate the page is overwhelming. And the fact she prepared it just for me? Beyond special.
May has so little, and has so much. When it comes to amenities, she lives simply and nobly. When it comes to life, there's nothing simple about her. Her life is dramatic and difficult, but she puts her face to the wind, her Bible in her hands, and with Jesus in her heart, she pushes forward. She cries when she's frustrated. She hates it when Satan messes with her and her family. She worries, but rarely aloud. And when it comes time to do what needs to be done, she and the Lord break their huddle, and she hits the ground running.
This is where that "seasoned" bit comes in. She's got all this drama, and she's in her Golden Years. She should be relaxing on an island somewhere. But as long as she's where she is with her Friend, Jesus, that's all that matters to her. And here she is, taking on my problems as well. "You've been on my mind," she says. "I've been praying for you." And that's no cliché. I know when I answer the phone, that despite everything that's going on in her crazy life, she is someone who really cares.
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