It was then ...

This might be a little long ... but worth it.

A very, very long time ago on one of our many vacations to Sanibel Island,

I found myself in a jewelry store. We normally didn't go into these establishments

as they were way too touristy or ridiculously over-priced. Yet ... here I was.

On the counter was a display of handmade bracelets, none of which were 

any colors I would ever choose, nor were they any style I'd normally buy,

and yet I grabbed this one that seemed to tug at my heart.

It was tan and brown with little white feet and the words,

"It was then that I carried you".

(If you don't know the poem, please look it up.)

For whatever reason, I had to have it and so I bought it.

A little while later, I started a job at Beall's ... on Senior day with coupons.

Let's just throw her into the pits of hell and see if she sticks with it.

My trainer was a waif of a woman, Chris.

She was patient and diligent and proficient and kind and faith-filled and sweet.

She helped me day after day and we quickly became very good friends.

She did such a good job training me that the store stole me away 

to the men's side registers to provide equal service over there.

We'd visit with each other before breaks or on the way to the restroom

or however we could - just to chat and hug and catch up.

One day she came and visited me in tears. Her husband was in the hospital.

There were many hugs. And every day we visited, there were more tears and hugs.

Then Chris was gone for a few days.

When she returned, again in tears, she let me know that her husband had passed.

She was devastated. She was inconsolable. He was her everything.

I knew nothing else to do, beyond the hugs, but to simply take that bracelet off

and give it to her. There were more tears.

As the days went by, she would come visit me, happily showing me that she

was always wearing that bracelet. She said she knew the poem well and that

she knew it was the truth and she need only look to her wrist to know that she

will never be alone.

A few months later, here came my buddy ... again in a pool of tears ... 

and a tiny plastic baggy. Within the baggy were a bazillion little brown and tan beads

and little white feet. It had snagged on something at her register and broken.

She was beside herself.

I let her know that I will be her beads and feet now. There were hugs and tears and 

eventually she went back to work.

As life does, I moved away and kept in touch via blogs and emails and cards and 

the occasional phone call.

She sent me a Christmas card this past year with some bad news in it. She was sick.

I cannot, regrettably, remember if I sat down and wrote her back or only thought of it.

I'm hoping that I did. I'm hoping that I told her how much of a treasure she was to me.

I'm hoping that I shared what a joy she was to befriend and hold close.

Yesterday, I was told of her passing.

She's no longer alone. Her footprints are again beside her husband's.

She is at peace and full and resting. 

I will miss our intermittent communications. I hope she knows she was

just as much my beads and feet as I may have been hers.

I believe that when God cannot carry us, He sends people, like Chris, 

to carry us through. We are each keepers of one another.

I love you and miss you Chris. Thank you for everything.

When given the opportunity ... carry someone else.