Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. . For by it the men of old gain approval. (Hebrews 11:1 NASB). My faith has been tested lately in ways for which I’m sorely ill-prepared. Curve balls can catch a girl off guard, especially when they keep coming, one after the other.
My Mother-In-Love, Joann, was one of a kind. She taught me so much about life. She was a MOM in every since of the world. Not overbearing, but wise. She wouldn’t advise unless advice was requested. Secrets shared with her were honored and kept safe. Over the years, she became MY Joann. I had a Mom, but MY Joann was someone all together different. She had a wonderful sense of humor, but more than that, a strong direction in life. She walked in Faith like no other person I’ve every known. Joann was the embodiment of Faith.
When Cancer came knocking for the second time after decades of silence, she wasn’t shaken a bit. She began a walking program. A deteriorating spine caused her continuous pain, but, on she walked. While chemo made her weak, walk through it she did. Every morning, even in dense Tule fog, she took slow and steady steps up and down the empty country road bordering our ranch. Cane in hand, with hat on her little bald head, she walked until she couldn’t walk anymore.
VST and I adored her. She had not a need or wish that remained unfulfilled. We made a home for Jack and Joann across the drive from ours, and spent long hours visiting on the porch VST build for that very purpose. Porch therapy, we called it. After a day of work and dinner, we’d see them take their seats in the evening breeze, and we’d join them. A beautiful and unspoken devotion between the four of us blossomed as the years flew by.
One day, Joann needed to go to town for supplies. If you’re a country person, you’re familiar with the term, “going to town”. In our case, town was about 25 minutes away. Everything a normal family needs is IN TOWN. In the 1900’s, with no internet shopping, you actually went to the store. Such a concept. Farming gave cause for many trips to town purchasing everything from dog food to oil for the tractor. “Going to town” might involve the funeral of a dear farmer friend, or a trip to the dentist. But, every week, multiple trips to “town” were necessary.
On that Saturday, we all jumped in the car to lunch at Castillo’s, a favorite Mexican restaurant of ours. Needing a few things, Walmart, was our next stop. After a trip around the store, we paid and got back to the car. With her back sore, getting settled in the car took a bit of effort. We’d all belted up when she realized something.
“Uh-Oh. I left my purse in the basket.”
VST was the best son. He never lost his cool or patience. He just unclipped his seat belt and got out to retrieve her purse. Except, he couldn’t. It was already stolen.
The drive back to the ranch was quiet. Joann DID make one statement that caused VST and I to wince.
“No worries. My purse will come back to me. Jesus will make this right.”
In her purse she carried life’s identification. California Identification, Medicare, Insurance, Pharmacy, and Social Security cards, and other documents related to her cancer treatments. Everything she needed to continue receiving medical care was in her purse along with credit cards and $40. She smiled on the way home while humming an old time Gospel hymn. She never cried or fretted. Joann hummed in faith, while the rest of us catastrophized in our brains, with good reason.
Each day, for about a week, VST became less patient, as he made call after call. First, she would need to prove her identity. Difficult to do, as she was born in a little cabin by a lake in Oklahoma. She would need her Social Security number, which she didn’t remember. She would need to wait two weeks for a replacement credit card, her only one. The list went on and on. While VST did the leg work, Joann had one reply.
“My wallet will come back to me. Jesus will send it back.”
After a day or two of this, VST and I weren’t feeling much faith in the matter. However, Joann NEVER waivered in her statement. It was as if her documents had already been returned.
Living in the country, everyone has their own mail box. Mail delivery is at the same time every day, often the highpoint. In the days of snail mail, people would anticipate receiving hand written letters from a relative or the newest picture of a grandchild living far away. Mail was special.
One week after the loss, Joann was returning from her walk. She checked their mail box, even though mail delivery wasn’t for some time yet. I heard a muffled cry from the road, and hurried outside, fearing she had fallen, or worse.
“Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus!” she cried, her arms stretched toward the sky.
Standing next to the road was My Joann. Hands held heavenward, she had the biggest smile. When she saw me, she started waving. She was holding something. Not too big. Not too small. It appeared to be a regular envelope.
That evening, the kitchen table held the contents, as she sat in faith.
“I told you. Jesus would make this right.”
One empty and unmarked envelope. One driver’s license. One Medicare card. Insurance cards. Original Social Security card. One Credit Card. Appointment documentation with dates and times for continued treatment. Everything lost, except the $40, in one unaddressed unsealed white envelope. Her life had been returned to her anonymously, just as in her unwavering faith, she knew it would be. If I hadn’t been a witness to this, I would’ve found it impossible to believe.
Joann didn’t BELIEVE it or WISH it to be true. She ENVISIONED and KNEW it would be returned through her profound faith. In doing so, she never broke a sweat, while the rest of us tried every earthly way to right the wrong that had occurred. She just waited on God’s time.
I hope someday my faith is even a little of what I witnessed with Joann. I miss her every day, always being thankful to her for the gift of VST, the most precious gift she could’ve ever shared with me. She is loved fiercely by her family to this day. VST and I were the lucky ones that enjoyed nightly porch therapy and her embodiment of Faith. Jesus made things right, Joann. He surely did.