God's Brave Women - Heather's Story

I was humming a tune in the vitamin aisle when the text came in. Why do we remember the details? The fizzy tablets in my hand, the cart of food, the parking space. Words on the phone were distorted by poor reception and disbelief. The few that reached me came tumbling in at the turn onto Broughton Road – “tumour … they say there’s nothing they can do.” There must be some mistake. We were having coffee on Monday at 8pm. It was in the calendar.

We collect people. There are honoured ones who live on our mantlepieces, like so many shiny trophies. We know them through their resumes and they, us, by our eagerness to please.

There are ones we keep in our pockets. ‘Insta-face-tube’ folk who garnish our endeavours with grins, but don’t remember which sibling had the accident or how our hope fades when we can’t afford gas.

Then there’s another category. She’d given me a book with the definition on the cover, Friends are the Sunshine of Life. We’d known each other since Mrs. Brydon’s form class. We’d cried, prayed, and belly laughed our way through the hubbub of years. On the day of dad’s funeral, she’d taken a 30-minute taxi on her lunchbreak for three minutes and a hug outside the church. A few months later she had done the same for my mum’s. We’d picked each other up on dark days and sunny ones, feasting on Bible chunks and finding fullness in God’s presence.

"We’d picked each other up on dark days and sunny ones, feasting on Bible chunks and finding fullness in God’s presence."

The last year had been particularly challenging. We’d leaned hard on the Holy as we stepped into unknown territory. She, from independence to adopting a vulnerable 5-year-old, and I, from a dream ministry job that lay in fractured pieces. As we set ourselves to seek Him, weakness was flecked with courage and hope grew.