I’ve
never liked thunderstorms. I know there are people who just love all the
thunder and lightning and wind and excitement, but they have always scared me.
I
remember one thunderstorm when I was a little girl. I don’t know how old I
was—probably five or so … we were living out in the country (back when Mom
liked to cook) and Uncle Zip and Auntie Joyce were staying with us. I’m not
sure what the occasion was but I’ll assume it had to do with hunting or
fishing. There is nobody who loves fishing like my Auntie Joyce. She’s a
legend in the boat and on the ice. Anyway, they were sleeping in my room and I was out on the hide-a-bed
in the rec room.
A
thunderstorm woke me up and, of course, I was scared. I remember Auntie Joyce
coming out and just laying with me on the hide-a-bed. Always the patient teacher, she told me little stories about her students-- and I’m sure I told
her a few, too. Right there, in the middle of the night, she comforted me. She
could have sent me up to my mom and dad, but she stayed and visited until I was calm enough to go back to sleep. She has probably long since forgotten about that night, but I will always
remember it.
When
I was little, Auntie was like a celebrity in my eyes. She had these long,
manicured nails and do you know what she had—stuck right in the corner of her
pinky nails?? Rhinestones! Oh my goodness. I used to try to glue stick tiny
pieces of paper to my chubby, dirty fingernails to try to be like her. And she always wore the most beautiful and unique jewelry… We would just sit with her and admire her rings. She would point out the little intricacies in each piece and tell my cousin Jen and me about where they all came from.
When a baby is born in our family, Auntie Joyce makes him or her one of her
special quilts. It always ends up being the favorite. When Andrew was little, his was absolutely threadbare and tied together. There was nothing left of it. (I’ll have to ask him if he brought it with him when he joined
the Marines). All the kids love their Auntie Joyce Blankies / Kikis / Nigh-Nights. It's not hard to draw a parallel between a comforting blanket and the wonderful and generous woman who made each of them so lovingly.
We
found out on Thanksgiving Day that
Auntie has pancreatic cancer. I have spent quite a bit of energy asking God why this has “happened to her.” Asking boldly for a miracle.
Pointing out that, of all people, Auntie Joyce has been through enough and does
not deserve this.
And then
I realized something.
I need to pray for comfort.
I want my Auntie comforted
and comfortable.
I want her to feel like she’s under one of her special
blankets and safe from the storm. I want her to know she’s admired—not only for
her glitzy and glamorous sense of style, but for being so incredibly strong and for
being such an excellent teacher and for being the wife and mom my Uncle Zip and
cousins have counted on and adored.
I’m
still praying for the miracle, of course. But I’m also praying that all these gifts she’s given to our family and the huge number of lives she’s touched,
she’s getting back. Because if anybody deserves that, it’s my Auntie Joyce.
