Several months ago, I reached out to this beautiful woman I knew of from church. She was someone I always admired from afar - beautiful on the outside, sure, but you could tell just by watching her that she was even more beautiful on the inside. I remember thinking her life - as I saw it on Facebook - looked really fun...lots of friends and social activities, great job, great waterfront place to live, traveled on vacation. I was a single Mama at the time, and I remember envying the freedom it looked like she had. Not in a bitter way, though. Something about her smile and the kindness she oozed made being bitter about it impossible.
I remember how shocked I was, too, the first time I heard her cancer was back. I didn't know she'd ever had cancer in the first place, but suddenly I imagined that played a role for her in living her life to the fullest.
I remember a sudden tugging on my heart: "You need to give Heidi a massage."
This isn't a new tugging on my heart; it happens frequently, actually. But this tugging felt undeniable, urgent, and I knew I couldn't ignore it. But I was afraid. I knew from massage school that massage for someone with cancer could be very beneficial and really I couldn't do any damage by doing so. Still, being a new massage therapist and having no experience working on someone with cancer, I was leery. This situation weighed on me, and after months I finally messaged her about wanting to offer her massage, but out of fear I kept avoiding sending her the gift card I'd promised.
I hadn't seen her at church in quite a long time...well over a year, probably. Yet one Sunday, there she was, visiting. She looked smaller, a little more frail than I'd remembered, but there was no mistaking her giant, welcoming grin. It was after service I think, the lobby full of people chatting, chasing after kids, leaving. My heart started pounding as I nervously realized I was making my way towards her, pulled like a magnet.
Let me tell you, right now, that when I feel especially deeply about something, it takes me a ridiculous amount of emotional energy to connect with someone in person about that thing. Doesn't matter if it's to bare my heart or just tell a harried Mama that she looks beautiful and is doing a great job...every time I'm afraid I'll make a fool of myself by crying, and so sadly, I only push through that fear about 1 in every 4 times I feel asked to. So to walk up to this lovely woman I didn't know, but whom I knew was very sick, was as daunting as climbing a mountain.
She was welcoming, of course. Gracious. Remembered the message I sent and was excited at the prospect of getting a massage.
Ashamedly, it took me another couple of months before I followed through with my initial promise to her. And when she was finally on her way to get her first massage, I was terrified. Her health had worsened considerably and she was walking with a cane. I had to make some adjustments to how she got into the massage room, but once in there, her very presence put my fears at ease.
I felt in awe of Heidi. I knew I had much to learn from her, so I sent her more gift cards. Within about a month of her first massage she scheduled another one, but this time, I went to her. Her massage that time had to happen in her bed. We talked about Jesus, we talked about her Mama, her brother; we were silent.
If you've spent any time with Heidi, you know how infectious her JOY was. And if you knew her during her illness, you know that being with her was like being in the presence of Jesus. I don't say that about many people...but she exuded that same sense of calm mixed with power that I imagine Jesus would. Even in her pain, even as her body continued to deteriorate, she clung to hope, to Jesus, to the belief that He is bigger than just her story and was very much in it with her, no matter the outcome. Her faith and strength and grace in the midst of the darkness became her ministry.
As my friend Noel reminded me, Heidi was much more at peace with her situation than anyone who loved her was. Is.
Heidi passed away this morning. It's very bittersweet. Knowing she is healed, happy, active and reunited with her Mama again brings some comfort. But her struggle and story bring me anger as well. Anger that such a kind and vivacious and loving soul would be allowed to suffer like she did, allowed to die. I'm trying to balance the two. I don't imagine Heidi spent a lot of time being angry about things. I don't know...there's much more about her I don't know than what I did, but the woman I spent some brief time with was only light and love.
I'm grateful for my time with Heidi, for the beautiful example she was of how to live a life you love and love those in your life. I wish I had reached out to her sooner. My biggest regret here is that I robbed myself of more time with her, getting to know her and her sweet Dad better.
Moving forward, I vow to be quicker to obey when I feel the Lord asking hard things of me. I'll push through my fear of looking foolish and make the words come out of my mouth when I have some love to share with someone. I'm scared of this, but it's important. I think Heidi would like that a lot.
Xoxo.
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