memoir

Jars of Clay

I have always been a God Seeker.  I was talking to God as a child, before I had any concrete information.

I was continually on the lookout for those walking a deep authentic faith, who were walking in an uncommon closeness with God

Patricia was one of those for me. She was interesting and prepared, a great Sunday school teacher.  In her seventies she wore a pixie cut, when all the other ladies her age were wearing teased curls, and I don’t think I ever saw a grey hair.  She could take a passage of scripture, or a story from the Bible and teach it so simply.  That even I, a girl with very little Bible knowledge could understand.

Anytime I would sing her praises to other ladies at church they would be sure to remind me, that even though she was a good teacher, she had quite the shady past.  She was divorced, had estranged adult children, a difficult second marriage and her new husband didn’t even come to church. Funny that I never noticed a deep or authentic faith in any of them.

There was something about her, her love for Jesus, her love for His words, her daily joy within a life of struggle that told me her faith was her hidden treasure, and I could see it shining through. Our friendship grew and I enjoyed anytime I could spend with her.

Several years into our friendship Patricia suffered a massive heart attack.  She laid in a coma for days and when she woke, she could not speak, read, or keep a straight thought.  Her recovery was long, and her heart would never beat strong again.

She would share with me later,  that in those dark hours of the night fear would try to overtake her, and she would pray for a shred of hope. Slowly hope found its way to her through the scriptures she had memorized and hidden her heart over the years.

As she laid in her bed recovering day after day, night after night she recalled the sweet words of Jesus, the soothing Psalms of David and the promises of God.  I remember her holding my hands in hers and telling me how grateful she was that she had hidden them within her and that I should do the same.

I saw how fragile a human life could be, a jar of clay that can be easily broken, and then I saw what could hold it together.

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