working saints
 
Lately, my mind has sought refuge in the memory of a woman whose name I cannot remember.   She walked quietly through a brief portion of my life during a time when I scurried forth in front of a four-prong prod: being the mother of young children, wife, writer and caretaker to a dying parent.  I don’t remember her name.  I’ll call her Barbara.

Barbara and I met at a writer’s night at a store in Hunt Valley Mall owned by author Bernadette A. Moyer.  Barbara wrote a children's book, published, beautifully illustrated.  But tucked away somewhere at home a novel waited to be loosed on the general public.  I later visited Barbara at her home where she lived with her retired husband.  And in good faith, I took the manuscript, eager to read it.  But I didn't.  Life got away with me.  Mom got sicker, the kids more involved, Will's dot com venture more frantic.  I regret that and if you're reading this, my friend, please email me!

Barbara gave me a gift that day she opened the door to her home with a wide sweep and made me tea and cookies.  We sat together in her living room talking books.  Then we switched to God and Barbara changed my life forever with just six words.

"I just love God so much."

Six words uttered with the matter-of-fact familiarity and unmistakeable affection one would use to describe one's feelings for say, a sister, a best friend, or quite possibly a lover you've had for years.

"I just love God so much."

And in that moment, I realized that I did too.  That He lived within every sort of love I could express and that not only did He own my devotion, my gratitude, my worship -- He owned my fond affection.  What was once a trickle of human emotion -- God being on the lofty plain -- gushed open into something so real and deep, I suddenly realized the meaning of prayer and I began walking alongside my Creator, each step accompanied by the presence of my Divine friend.  I truly gave Him my heart. 

In Prism magazine, Sept./Oct. 2002, is an article entitled Working Saints.  Their definition:

     "They love and influence you over a whole lifetime, or they cross your path only once but make an impression that remains forever, like a handprint on your heart.
     "We call them Working Saints, those nameless disciples of Christ who live out their faith every day, without praise or remuneration or recognition, folks who work hard and bear witness to their Lord in ways that influence--subtly but significantly--the lives of those around them."

Barbara is my working saint.  She gave a gift I needed to get through the tough years of my mother's illness and my children's smallness.  She gave me a gift that upholds me even now.

Who are your working saints?

grace,

lisa