Gifts From the Hand of Faith

I was given a gift. A three-hour lunch with Faith.

A little spitfire of a lady, her walker supported a back bent by osteoporosis. But it didn’t slow her down. In fact, it made her faster. My grandchildren grinned big when she gave them walker rides in our church lobby.

Where there was Faith, there was giggling. Her joy bubbled out. Sitting at White Street Café, we laughed and talked about the funny parts of life’s challenges. We talked about Facebook and how she reminded people to be kind because “they forgot what they learned in kindergarten.”

Faith, a teacher for fifty years, didn’t really like to read. But she did it so she could learn.  She read my newspaper column and reminded me often, “Your writing’s getting better.”

She admired writers, like her late husband. After Ray had several strokes, she took care of him, converting their bedroom into a hospital room to sleep near him. When Faith spoke, her eyes still sparkled but I also saw her sadness.

We talked a little about grief and other common journeys. Like how our adult kids moved back home. The challenges, the blessings, the funny stuff. Her son and his family moved in after her husband’s passing and she said it was perfect timing. Adjusting to them and planning the 100-year anniversary celebration for our church, it was good to be busy.

Faith told me she was diagnosed with Celiac’s when she was seventy-seven years old. She stood in the middle of a grocery store crying, overwhelmed and wondering, “What can I eat?” Again, there were tears and smiles. “Can you see me, an old lady, standing there crying like a baby?” And, of course, we laughed.

Faith asked about my challenges. I told her I struggled. To love well, to not be cynical, to not go back to old habits. She smiled and nodded, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” Her eyes and that smile said:  I see your struggle. I hear your pain. Don’t quit. As my tears rolled, she pulled something from her purse. A brown resin cross, a bit twisted and off-kilter. She put it in my palm and wrapped my fingers around it. “It’s a Clinging Cross.”

Faith’s hands covered mine and we held it. Leaning in, her smiling eyes locked on mine, “Always cling to the cross. It’s a reminder of the Hope you have in Jesus.” We sat for about ten minutes, her hands wrapped around mine, wrapped around that cross. Such closeness for me is usually uncomfortable. But not that day. I stayed and savored the healing of Faith’s hands.

We agreed, the cross is everything. Our peace, our freedom, our pain-taker, and our life-changer.

Faith, my encourager with those permanent laugh lines, leaves behind her gifts. She not only shared her strength and her struggle, but her source of Hope. She teaches us: Don’t just choose joy, let it bubble out. Live life to the fullest. Don’t quit. Keep going and growing. Be an encourager. And always, always, always cling to the cross.

 

In memory of my friend, Faith B. McInturff, 9/12/29~11/01/16.

                     “Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweet to the soul, healing to the bones.”

                                                                           ~Proverbs 16:24~