FAITH

That is what the rock said: FAITH.  The letters thick, bold red outlined in black.  The font, strictly Puffin (what my friend and I call each other; the subject of another entry altogether.)

I hadn't intended to bring the rock, but there it was, waiting for years to move on.   Thank God it called out for me just before I left to see Noel for what would be the last time.

I showed Matt all of the treasures that I was bringing to her: a beautiful card from Kripalu with words of thanks inside (words that seemed so inadequate in expressing the magnitude of our gratitude); a framed picture of Francesca holding her monkey; a few other prints of Francesca and Lilian; this rock. 

And there was Noel.  Beautiful Noel.  Her appearance so shifted; her body so depleted.  her skin, white as snow.  Her head down, sipping water from a straw.  This action symbolizing her will to connect with life.  And then, her voice.  Ah, there was Noel.  Hidden under sickness and layers of hospital fatigue, Noel: "Hey Katie.  How are the girls?"  In and out of consciousness.  "Hey Katie.  Can you do me a favor?"  There was nothing more that I wanted to do than to do Noel a favor.  I got her fresh water with loads of ice.  I helped her take the first sip, feeling like maybe I helped her live just a little longer. 

Again, in and out of consciousness.  And then, somehow, thank God again, I held her hand.  I could not believe the warmth and life and strength in this hand.  She hugged my hand with hers and I waited for her to let go first.  Just before the nurse came in, I took out the rock and I gave it to Noel.  I told her what it said, FAITH.  And do you know what Noel said?  She said this, "you know Katie, I think I remember this rock from your house."  She took this rock from me with determination and she said, "Thank you, Katie.  I am going to hold on to this today."  And she did.  She held that rock so tight. 

There is a certain intimacy that comes from having someone work in your home.  Noel folded our laundry.  She did our dishes.  She changed Francesca's diapers; sat on the couch with her; made her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  She reminded me to clean out my dryer filter and showed me pictures that she had taken of Francesca.  She had keys to our home.  She met Matt in a parking lot one night, swapped the carseat from our car to hers, and drove Francesca home when we were in a desperate situation.  She took Francesca on the bus and she rocked her to sleep. 

I never met Noel out for a drink or even for coffee, although I would have loved to, but I am so grateful that she found her way into all of the corners of our home.  Now I think of her when I throw laundry in the dryer or when I see a city bus.  And, sometimes in those messy moments with Francesca, I think of Noel and her enthusiastic love for her and it stops me in my tracks.  And thank God once again that Noel remains, faithfully continuing to help me be a better person and mom.