rselves—individual stories unfolding carefully, gently, trustingly. There was something about LB that made me want to be her friend. For a long time, I thought it was her strength—which seemed such a bold contrast to my timid lack of confidence.At first blush, you would think we couldn’t be more different. She speaks her mind. I wish I could speak mine (more often). Her opinions are well-thought out and articulate. Mine are emotional. I say I’m an “artsy, right brain” thinker. She laughs and says that must make her an “analytical, left brain” thinker. (But she’s very creative, too.)
We started meeting for “cawfee tawk.” The more I learned about LB, the more I liked her. Growing up, she lived in New York and went to parochial school. She was the youngest child in a big family. She lost her mother to cancer when she was just 10 years old—and she misses her terribly. Every. Single. Day. She tells wonderful stories about her Mom--who worked nights. As soon as her mom came home, she would mop the kitchen floor. Part of a comfortable routine; a theraputic unwinding. No matter how sick or tired her mother was, she was helping others. She walked her faith. LB has memories of various people who were “down on their luck” living in their basement. After her mother died, her Dad tried his best—but he missed his life’s companion terribly.
LB’s faith is rock solid. She doesn’t exaggerate. She doesn’t lie—even when it might be easier. (I love that about her.) You see, she doesn’t want any of her actions here on earth to stand in the way of her getting to see her Mom, Up There.
LB graduated from high school at just 16 years old and, two weeks later, she married her sweetheart—because she wanted to (and because her Dad approved). The young couple immediately left for El Salvador to do missionary work. LB taught ESL in a school and she translated (to the best of her abilities) in the hospital for physicians with Doctors Without Borders.
They were a happy couple. A few years later, they moved back to the states—first to Texas, then back to NY. They had three little boys. Then other family members started to intervene--slowly causing waves that, in time, became tsunamis. Eventually, it became so bad that LB accepted a job in the Midwest, packed up the boys and moved. Within two weeks, the company folded and she was without a job. Her struggles continued. Within a short time, she had a dream in which her mother spoke to her. She told LB to get to a doctor. LB had cancer. During her health crisis, she lost her Dad. She also lost a dear aunt who helped to raise her.
Alone, she battled cancer three times over the years. Alone, she raised those three boys into some of the most intelligent and admirable young men I’ve ever met. Alone, she supp
orted them. Alone, she made sure they had the best possible education available. The youngest is now in college, loving every minute of it. Her middle son is musically gifted and a great writer (and an artsy, right brain thinker!) The oldest is a young, married professional—just selected by his company to help lead a training program overseas. He is married to a young lady that LB adores.LB works as Director of Compliance Operations for a health care company. She runs a catering business in her “spare time.” She misses New York. She says, “New York is home.” But, I think she misses that old kind of “happy.” I think—like most of us—she misses that safe place in the past that was “home.” We miss the security of laying in bed at night and hearing our parents talking quietly. We miss a time when there was no stress in our lives. We miss being kids with big dreams that were nurtured in us. We miss the little things. Like Mom mopping the kitchen floor early every morning—and the sound of her singing.
LB doesn’t like being alone. Nor does she like people referring to her as “strong.” Those aren’t things she has chosen. Sometimes when we chat, I hear her reflecting about the past—second guessing the choices that she made. It makes me sad to think I might never have met her. I think about how much richer my life is because she’s in it. I think about how grateful I am to God for sending her into my life. He made her shine like a brilliant angel during those Moms meetings, so that I would sit up and take notice … and know that He sent her there for me … like the “beneficial” Lady Bug that she is. Not just for her example of strength, but—more importantly—for her example of absolute faith.
