There was a family of known eccentrics who lived in our town. The father collected old foreign cars of various colors, and each driver in the family cruised around in one car or the other.
The girls’ made a fashion statement every time they stepped foot out the door, styling and profiling, wearing whatever suited their taste. It didn’t have to be chic; it just had to be what they liked. My friend (I’ll call her Angelica) showed up at my 12th birthday party wearing a leopard print tam before anyone had ever seen such a thing, even in Vogue.
They were the talk of the town, especially after the mother spent a whole week up the flagpole at the county fair. That’s right; she spent one solid week living at the top of the flagpole at the Wayne County fair. These folks were fearless, especially of others’ opinions.
David, one of the grownup sons, attended our church. One day something like a three-ring circus was happening in the sanctuary, some special service for the children. Clowns frolicked up and down the aisles with collection buckets for the special offering.
He sat back all blasé with arms crossed, taking in the spectacle. Finally he spoke ever so bold, “Money changers in my Father’s house.”
One day we heard that the mother had cancer; the prognosis was grim. It appeared that she was on her deathbed when we went to pray for her. She lay there, face and lips pale as moon, body languid and pond-still.
David appreciated all the prayers for her peaceful entry into glory land, but stated in no uncertain terms that he was walking by faith, not sight. His mother would be healed, he did not doubt in his heart.
Within weeks, we saw the ill woman whole and riding a bike downtown as though she’d never seen a sickbed a day in her life.
That’s when I decided that being one of those peculiar people might not be so bad after all.
What about you? Are you one of them too?
When you hear the word “faith” what picture comes to your mind?