There she was. She was the skinny, short-haired, glasses wearing lady sitting on the ottoman. She was older than me, maybe old enough to be my mom, but it was hard to tell exactly. She seemed nice enough. I guess I was going to have to like her. Then she opened her mouth and out it came.
It was the first time in my then 22-year-old self that I'd ever heard someone curse in church. I just knew that God himself was going to appear in the room with a cloud of smoke and fire and strike her down for such an abominable act. But He didn't.
He didn't. Interesting. Okay, so I was naive, but I'd never met anyone like her before. She seemed to say what was on her mind and somehow get away with it. She didn't sugar coat her words; she just told it like it was, pretty or not. But I probably learned the most from her by what she did rather than what she said.
She was an amazing mentor to me. She taught me to be ME - never to pretend to be someone I'm not. She taught me to be more confident in myself. She taught me to be accepting of others - judging was a waste of her time. She taught me to love. She taught me to never give up.
I know she's up in heaven giving 'em heck. I can just hear her now..."Pearly gates? Streets of gold? Crystal seas? You know you can't write those things off on your taxes so don't even try that crap with me."
I know she'll be there waiting on me, with some sort of sarcastic comment that she's probably already brewing up. She'll be ready to introduce me to all the people she's met since she got there and fill me in on all their info. And maybe then we'll understand all those New Testament parables that went over our heads in Disciple II. Or maybe we won't care at all.
My friend, Ginny Cheek, died on Friday night after a more than 2 year kick-ass fight with lung cancer. She meant the world to me, and I can't wait to see her again.
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