A bench arches its back so a hobbling woman can sit with ease.
She eases slowly into its embrace, releasing her knees strains.
I observe, eyes questioning her need for assistance.
As she reclines her head shakes no and her hand pats the metal beside her.
I follow her suit.
She peers up into the cloud dotted sky as she reaches to clasp my hands.
Her mouth parts and with a joyous grin she asks if I’ve looked at the white fluffs recently.
I shake my head. Patting my fingers she smiles and says, “Well, what do you see now?”
To be honest I’m not looking at the sky. I am peering into green specs, full of wonder and awe, beset upon this woman’s face. I gaze upon the folds of skin tracking memories. Here sits a woman with stories, a farm girl who loves fishing and missionary work in Ukraine. I see a woman whose experiences have led her to the cross of Christ.
She has tested the waters of trust and she no longer wades like I do. Instead, there she is basking in his seas of grace and letting his promises wash over her, baptized in faith. I admire this woman stopping to study God’s artwork. As I sit beside her, I’m filled with awe as her joy in the Lord is contagious. I’m catching a wave of trust as I observe her allowing trust to infect her.
She’s breathing in the roses and detailing their scent. She’s asking me to watch and see what the Lord has done, is doing, and will do. Trust has been a process for her. She said age has helped her do it.
I’m admiring this mentor. I’ve grazed upon the seeds of wisdom she has planted. I’m grateful for her counsel and inspiration. Her advice seems easy but not what I want to hear. Yet she’s had the test of time and it has proved a fruitful faith. I’ll listen to this wisdom and someday hope to have the endless river of trust and excitement for our God that this white-haired friend of mine possesses now.