by Stefany J. Jones on Thursday, July 20, 2020, at 1:00 pm
Yesterday, I was extraordinarily hypersensitive and emotional. I get that way sometimes because my nature as an empath sometimes makes navigating through certain circumstances a tough task for me. There are so very many things going on. It’s amazing b/c so often when you believe that you’ve finally made it thru to the category of “GONE THROUGH ENOUGH,” something happens, and you’re like Uh Oh… SMILE.
The most challenging part of being a Philosopher (because that is the attribute I’ve given myself) in this day and age is that finding qualified and quantified mentorship is a challenge, ng.
I go to visit this ancient and very anointed woman named Pastor Barbara. She is a Jamaican born widow of a Pastor who lived his life doing great things for people and the ministry. She is about 97 or 98 years old.
She still has her Jamaican accent and says to me, “Steffany? How you doin’ darlin’?”…I’ll say “I’m well Pastor B,” and she’ll say “OH PRAISE GOD!!!! From whom all blessings flow”.
I was blessed to meet her a couple of years ago through a colleague who referred her to me during the wrong time in my life. I was going through some things and needed to have a prayer warrior with me to help get me through. I remember the first time I knocked on the door of her very ‘urban’ neighborhood home. There was a barely legible sign written on cardboard for the mail carrier. I rang the bell and had been forewarned that I should be prepared to wait 10 minutes (a very long time considering what we are accustomed to) for her to answer.
As she peered beyond the door and opened it for my entrance, I looked down at this older woman who had clickity clacked using her walker to meet me. She was maneuvering that walker and sliding her partially disabled body with its every movement as if there was no pain. She invited me in and told me to take a seat. I remember thinking to myself, “Lord, I KNOW there are mice, and YOU KNOW how scared I am of them, PLEASE don’t let any come out or run out while I’m here because YOU KNOW I’ll die.” I meant every word. As scared as I was to see that Pastor Barbara’s living conditions were nothing I would want for ANYONE I knew or loved, I took a seat on a small stool opposite her piano bench. I waited for what seemed like another 10 minutes for her to drag her aged body to me and make my acquaintance across from me perched at the piano.
We prayed, and the next thing I knew, she just started talking about the Lord and teaching me life lessons. We talked for hours and hours. She offered me food (of course which I did not take), I offered her money (of course which she refused to accept) and after much deliberation and insistence finally said: “OK I’ll give it to the church.” She talked about Jamaica, her husband, children, and all the people in clergy they had helped and the even more people of the community whose lives they changed. She was ecstatic that an elderly program had put a bathroom on the first floor of her house. Her living room had become her bedroom and the hallway a makeshift kitchen w/ a small fridge, a microwave, can opener, and card table boasting pieces of fruit, crackers, and I think hash or spam or something.
This woman, who tore as she spoke, explained to me there was a FILM over her eyes that was causing her to tear and have blurred vision. She also spoke of her diabetes and the pain in her legs. I instantly forgot our surroundings and began to reach out and affix my hands upon her knees as I sought the transference of energy from my hands to her pain. She must have felt something b/c. She just started praising the Lord. We had a great time, and at the end of my visit she asked me to drop some cards of kindness which she had prepared into the mail for her, and I even delivered a map by hand to her friend whose birthday was that day and whom she wanted to know that she hadn’t forgotten.
I fell in love that day with Pastor Barbara…the woman who answers the phone (after 10 minutes of the ringing of course -lol-) “Praise the Lord, this is Barbara whom God has seen fit to give another day to see, who is speaking?”…. I LOVE it. She’s lived almost a century, and when asked always says, “God still has work for me to do, I am still here, and so are you.” I call her every so often, and she’ll call me when the Lord places me on her heart, “Is this my Steffney???”…And while I have to talk VERY LOUD to her so she can hear me, it’s always the most pleasant experience, and no visit nor conversation can ever be concluded without her praying for you.
Pastor Barbara is walking JOY thru the pain of her legs, her illness, her physical challenges, and I’m sure her loneliness. When I think of her and the sacrifices she has made for her ministry, and as she continues to serve the Lord in conditions, I am uncomfortable thinking about even to this day, I realize that if she can do it, then so I MUST.
I have often found that being of service in ministry is one of the most difficult decisions one can make. I’ve run from my purpose and calling for the longest and have become quite skilled at making excuses and having it still look pretty as if I’m without accountability. (I’ll have to go into that on another post). Despite where I am in life spiritually, or otherwise, I’ve been, given a tiny glimpse of the passage, and it is one that while I drag my feet (metaphorically), I do so with the confidence of knowing that there is joy through this passage of pain and continue I will.
