Easter Baskets, Stockings, and Roses

Nikki and I stopped by Pat's house Saturday to drop off an Easter basket - nothing too exciting, just practical things like toilet paper and deodorant, with a chocolate bunny and some Easter candy. As we've become accustomed to, our knocking was met with a "Who is it?!" that is far more severe than her usual demeanor. "Hey Miss Pat - it's your friends from the Justice Project, Nikki and Jess."

"Oh, all right," she answered and came to unlock the door for us. "Come on in girls." She wasn't expecting us, and was dressed in a housecoat. She went back to get a robe and told us how glad she was that we had come. She told us the story of how a friend's daughter had left her car at Miss Pat's house and left to go out with a bunch of friends. The girl showed up at the hospital the next day, brain dead. The doctors (or her friends?) had said it was ecstasy but Pat was skeptical and to make matters worse the girl's mother thinks that Pat had something to do with it. Her daughter, too, has been having tough week - the dialysis is taking its toll and Pat is always prepared to have to go to the hospital with her daughter. "It's just been a bad week," she said. "Can I get a hug?"

"Of course!" I said, a smile on my face. In all honesty, I was surprised she hadn't asked for one sooner. It is a regular part of our visits, one I enjoy. I stepped toward her to hug her and before we had even fully embraced her body was shaking with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said. I reassured her that it was okay, hugging her all the more tightly. I finally let go after about 30 or 40 seconds, hesitating to do so, but realizing that she and I did not each other all that well and I did not want to make her uncomfortable. Nikki gave her a hug, too, and we again reassured her that it was okay to cry, that we were here for her.

We had only just sat down when another of Miss Pat's "angels" stopped by - an old friend named Billy. She had called him up to take her out and get a new pair of stockings for Easter Sunday. Billy had just had two stints put in his heart this past week and was looking a little faint. "Come on in, Billy. Sit down. We was just about to have prayer."

The four of us held hands and Nikki and I took turns praying for Miss Pat, her daughter, and the young girl who had just died. We prayed mostly for peace for the girl's family and for Miss Pat as we all struggled with a life ended too soon under circumstances nobody understands. We prayed for massive healing for Miss Pat's daughter, who is on dialysis three times a week and in and out of the hospital often. We placed all of these things in our Lord's hands and asked Him to carry us through and for Miss Pat to cling firmly to His promises.

We said "amen" in unison and Miss Pat looked up and said, "Thank you." We told her that we were more than happy to do it and, in fact, she is often remembered in our prayers. She mentioned again to Billy that she needed to go out and get her stockings for Easter Sunday. "Well, we'd be happy to take you, Miss Pat if Mr. Billy isn't feeling up to it."

We didn't know it then, but Miss Pat doesn't get in the car with just anybody. She told us later that Billy and the two of us were the only people she'd let drive around. Usually if someone offers to take her to get something to eat, she'll just have them go out and bring it back as opposed to getting in the car.

But she agreed to get in the car with us and after we'd said our goodbyes to Billy, we all piled in and headed for the nearest grocery store, almost 10 minutes away. What a wonderful drive. Miss Pat told us stories of what the neighborhood used to look like when she first moved in to her mother's house in the 60's. Dogwoods on every lot, she told us, just growing wild. But then the townhomes and apartments came in and tore out the majority of them. We laughed about things in common and she chided me on my overly cautious driving until we finally arrived at Aldi.

We grabbed a cart and told her to get whatever she needed. Her shopping list was small, and almost every item she took, she asked for first. Sometimes you could see her eyes drift to something she didn't think was a necessity. "How about some iced tea, Miss Pat? Do you want to grab some?" She did, thanking us as she put it in the basket. Nikki and I followed her around the store until we finally arrived in line.

"Miss Pat, how about we let Nikki stand with the cart? I saw some flowers over on the other aisle - let's go pick some out." We walked over and looked at a small display of flower bouquets, Miss Pat finally settling on a bouquet of wine-colored roses. "Do you think they cost more?" she asked. I smiled. "Don't you worry about it."

A quick trip across the street to pick up a pair of stockings and we were on our way back. Miss Pat, however, seemed convinced that we were never going to get home if I didn't drive a little more aggressively! She told us on the drive back of the revival she was going to next weekend on the coast. In what can only be received as a huge sign of her trust in us, she offered us a key to her house, just in case we wanted to stop by and do anything while she was gone.

We got back to her small house and brought the groceries (and flowers!) inside. We talked and laughed for another half an hour or so, until she started to yawn and we said we'd get out of her hair. She thanked us again and again and we gave her big hugs. A comment about Nikki's working on a farm started another fifteen minutes of conversation full of laughter and the agreement that she would have to come out one day and we'd have a picnic. "All right," she said. "So we got a dinner date. And a country."

We hugged again and she said as we left that she would pet the horse, but wouldn't ride it. "You'll have to pray to Jesus about that," she said. "That'd be a miracle."

I think it was a Saturday full of small miracles.