January 29, 2019
The call was completely unexpected. Linda’s voice was trembling; I could almost hear her tears. “Katie is dying.” Katie is an Amish woman Linda met some years back while caring for her mother. Katie’s vegetable stand was down the road from Linda’s mother, and Linda would stop for tomatoes or cucumbers on Wednesdays when she visited. They struck up a friendship that transcended the cultural differences between Amish and English. Even after her mother died, Linda would stop by Katie’s to sit and chat, and at times, to pray together. Se described Katie’s home as calming, and always came home from her visits feeling rested and refreshed.
Katie was a tiny woman with a ready smile. She had not been well for some time; congestive heart failure may have been sapping her strength, but her kindness and gentleness was unperturbed. She had been away for treatment, so Linda hadn’t seen her for a few weeks and decided today was the day. It didn’t turn out as she had expected. When Linda arrived, she found Katie lying on her bed unresponsive, surrounded by her family. She stayed for awhile, then called me from the grocery where she had gone to buy food for the extended family who was gathering in preparation for the worst.
It’s been a hard day for Linda. So this evening when we called granddaughter Abi to see how college life has been going, after chatting awhile I mentioned her Meema’s breaking heart, whereupon Abi not only expressed her sorrow, but asked if she could pray for her. It’s been a sad day, but I am thankful tonight for a granddaughter who blesses us with prayer. It was a spontaneous and treasured gift that spoke comfort and peace to a troubled sea.
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