Connie was 79-years-old when I first met her walking the streets of B-town. Still winter at that point, she was bundled up and -oddly enough- wearing sunglasses. She always wore sunglasses.
That first encounter she stopped me, asking me if I knew Jesus and exclaiming with every other sentence, "He is worthy! Jesus is worthy!"
I confess, I wanted to get on with my walk and her presence placed me in a dilemma.
Was I to behave like "gee, that's nice- now have a nice day" and quickly walk away, or was it better for me to entertain this sweet but awkward woman? Against my desire to keep moving, I stopped. She offered me a hug and I received it. She kept talking about how much she loved her Jesus and I, still recovering from hurt in my personal relationship with Jesus, listened.
I listened as I hoped it afforded her dignity and respect.
I listened as I knew that what she was speaking was truth- of that I had no doubt.
And I listened because I wondered if this was a moment God ordained
and to refuse to listen would be to refuse a blessing.
"Yes, I know", I nodded.
As with times three and four, Ms. Connie would never remember my name or face but it wasn't a big deal- what she could remember was what was most important. She remembered Jesus.
Tonight I ran into Ms. Connie. She has turned 80 since we last saw one another, a fact I know because she made such an interesting comment in our first encounter that I never forgot it.
"I will tell people that Jesus loves them. I will tell them until I die. I will soon be 80- 80! I will tell people about Jesus unless He calls me home before my birthday. ...Maybe He'll call home home before then." She sounded hopeful to me, as if being called home before her birthday was her actual birthday wish.
Over the last few months I have met and re-met Connie about 6 times. She always smiles her lipstick smile at me, always wearing her red, heart-shaped sunglasses, and always waving, hugging, and sharing the love of Jesus with anyone she comes into contact with.
As we prepare to leave B-town for our new life in Kentucky, I found myself engaging Ms. Connie in conversation tonight. I suppose I didn't want to miss the opportunity.
"What do you know about God at 80 that I don't yet know?", I asked. (Cue: Annie F. Downs and the brilliance of that question.)
What Ms. Connie told me was simple: She came to know God in 1960. Once she married, her husband wanted nothing of her talking about God- and she spent decades not sharing God so freely. Once her husband passed, in 2004, she began to speak- she hasn't stopped yet!
Although her memory is slipping, Ms. Connie is always smiling. She has hope. Legit, honest, and deep hope. She is graceful, she is lovely.
Thank you, Ms. Connie. At 79 and 80, what you know about God is evident to every stranger you engage in Jesus-conversation. He is all you want to talk about- and He is all you need.
When we first met, I was recovering from a fight. Although I wanted so much to believe that God loved me, I was struggling to feel it. He felt so very far from me and I was mad... And sad... And hurt by it all. It was as if we were fighting- God and me. He insisting that His grace is sufficient for me and in response, I was shaking my head and mumbling, "liar".
Without knowing so much, Ms. Connie saw me through a transformation. Maybe, after all the tears, the time, and the trouble, there is a redemption story to be written about Indiana.
To all the Ms. Connies out there, embarrassing and boring us with their endless talks of Jesus- thank you. We likely won't know we need to hear it, but you'll be there, reminding us regardless. And at the end of it all, when we listen, we learn so much about ourselves, and most importantly, we learn so much about Jesus.
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