I have not had the time to post much lately, let alone post funny things. Reasons for that are a difficult first trimester with my pregnancy and a hard, hard few weeks.
A friend of mine died. Her name was Patricia, and I had met her only a few months ago. You would think that the friendship could not have gone deep in that time and in a way you would be right. I did not know Patricia that well, in the sense that I knew little about her. I know very little facts about Patricia. Not her exact age, though I know she was late twenties to early thirties at most. Not her married name, until I saw it on the little mass leaflet. Or her love for native American cultures until I saw her that last time in the hospital where cancer was claiming her little by little.
What I do know was that goodness, love and faith shone through Patricia to everyone she met. I have rarely met anyone who was so intrinsically kind as Patricia. I got to know her when she worked with me as a volunteer trying to tutor Bantu children who had come here a year ago as refugees with their widowed mother and who didn't speak a word of English when they entered the schoolsystem. I miss her. I may have met her about ten times, but I miss the gentleness of her smile, the simple warmth of her love and the greatness that was in her life of devotion. She embraced life and in the end she accepted death with a faith that could not even be diminished by faith.
May eagles soar to meet you on your way to heaven, Patricia.
It may be faulty theology, but I've always been better at faith than at Theology anyhow.