January 19, 2008 @ 1:15 am | Filed under: The Writing Life,Uniquely Me

“Hey, I know you. I know you.”

I jumped a bit as a hand reached out and grabbed mine, squeezing it exuberantly.

I had been wandering around the room for a while, making sure to keep my friend and her mother in my sight in case they should need anything. I talked with the few people I knew, admired the pretty arrangements, and then tried to stand by as unobtrusively as possible. At this particular moment I stood near the front pew, quietly taking in the room. I was vaguely aware that two elderly women sat just to my side, but – quite honestly – I’d not paid them much attention.

Until one of them reached out and grabbed my hand, that is.

“I know you, I do. Now…where do I know you from?”

I looked down into a face softly, but very definitely, lined with years. I would have placed her to be about seventy, but the enthusiasm in her spirit and the grace in her carriage immediately clued me in that this woman was just a bit special.

“Now, what is your name? I know I know you.”

So I introduced myself.

Warmth – deep, genuine warmth – shone in her brown eyes. Gleaming salt and pepper hair was carefully slicked back into the most elegant of chignons on her lower neck. She wore a smart suit, appropriate for the night but yet wildly younger than her years. On her feet she wore a pair of the most beautifully stylish and chic three-inch stilletos that I’ve seen in a while.

In the brief moment it took for her to grab my hand and begin to try to remember where in the world she may have seen me before, I was able to take in this wonderfully delightful woman. There was a strength in her hand that far belied her age, possibly every bit as much as her clothing and appearance.

I was instantly captivated.

“I don’t know. Maybe a ladies conference…?” I would have given anything at that moment to have been able to pinpoint where we might have met before, to give her that, but…I just couldn’t place her.

I was sure that this was a woman I would have remembered.

“Mmm. Maybe…” She studied me and then shook her head. “No. No, something else. Something else.”

She repeated my name over and over again, just slightly under her breath. My hand was still tight within her grip so I began to scramble for a way to change the subject. Do you go to church here? Are you friends of the family? I really like your shoes. Anything.

But before I could decide on a topic,

“Books! You write books! I’ve read your books. You do write books, don’t you?”

You could have knocked me over. And, I promise, nothing at that moment could have thrilled me more than knowing that this petite, energetic elderly woman before me was one of my readers.

We settled in for quite a visit. I learned most of her life story in about a twenty minute period. The time flew by and I was her very willing, very captive, audience of one. In three days she will turn eighty-one. It was obvious to me that the years have been both kind and harsh to this tiny slip of a woman. But I was continually moved by the grace and charm and energy that she carried within her.

As I sat with her, listening and absorbing, it wasn’t lost on me that this was a perfect opportunity for me to learn a thing or two from this pilgrim. She’s not only gone before me in the things and work of God, but she’s faced life as a woman and as a mother and had stories that particularly resonated within me and with my life at this particular junction.

I saw in her the same fire and passion that burns within me.

I had come there that night to try and be a help.

I left knowing that I had been touched by one of God’s own.

My new friend and I have made plans to meet up at the next ladies conference.

It was one of those moments when – in the midst of all that I’ve been thinking, feeling, experiencing lately – I caught a glimpse of the woman I want to be “when I grow up.”