Portrait of a Survivor...and a Plea for Prayers

She is a statuesque woman of distinguishable beauty. With her towering height and long thick curls, she exudes a wave of warmth that touches even the tiniest of souls. In fact, it is those very tiny souls (the souls of three and four-year-old children) that she touchest the deepest. Her creative flair manifests itself in the mornings she spends with these youngsters, helping them to paint their first masterpieces and make catterpillars out of clothespins. But her creativity and warmth reach far beyond the tiny hands that latch onto hers as she guides and encourages those tiny souls to grow. Just two years ago, I sat on her couch with her as she patiently guided my own hands in and out and around the fragile strands of yarn, teaching me how to knit. Again and again, her hands swiftly maneuvered the colorful yarns...slowly and slowly my own hands began to imitate hers. As she taught me to weave strands around needles of various sizes, made of metal and plastic and bamboo, she taught me more than just the act of knitting. She taught me the art of knitting, and in some aspect, the art of living. Slowing down, allowing myself to make mistakes, choosing colors and textures of diversity...she taught me how to create my dreams and how to lend my own warmth to others.

Just yesterday, this woman of fullness lost a piece of herself. On an operating table in one of the nation's most renowned hospitals, her life became forever altered. With a long recovery ahead of her and 3 - 6 rounds of chemotherapy looming in her near future, the path at her feet has suddenly turned treacherous. During the days and weeks and months ahead, may we all remember this dear woman in our thoughts and prayers. May we exude our own warmth and creativity in hopes that such rays of healing will reach her and brighten her moments.