Katie
I didn’t know her name, but she attended church occasionally. When she did, she came in late and left early. She sat at the back of the sanctuary flanked on both sides by her two daughters. She was masterful in her ability to slip out just when the service was over before anyone could greet her, She also answered in short, terse sentences so that the questioning party was left with nothing to say. I was uncomfortable with her discomfort. Katie admitted to me much later that she had learned that to make people keep their distance; make them so uncomfortable they’d left her alone. It was obvious that she wasn’t interested in anyone getting too close and I was happy to oblige.
It all began with a phone call. Our assistant pastor Bob called me into his office and asked me if I would pray about building a relationship with a single mom named Katie and her two daughters. She had come to his office to talk and she admitted she was lonely and she wanted a friend. Bob was a man to be trusted, he loved his God, he wasn’t phony and genuinely cared, and his authenticity was apparent. I wondered if he was grasping at straws when he suggested my name. I asked him, “Why me? Can’t you think of someone better?” but I told him I would pray about it. When I hung up the phone I was still amazed at the proposition. She had worked hard to build a wall around her and it was incredible that she wanted anything different, especially from me.
I said yes kind of fearfully. She was so standoffish but God had much more in mind than Katie, Bob, or I had known. I would be learning one of life’s lessons along with her, it would take two and a half years it was just the beginning of an assignment from God. I also didn’t know exactly what my time with her would look like. I was already working part-time at our hair salon, had two teenagers, and was involved in church activities as well as household duties. Although I was busy, I was handling life well so Dave and I decided I could carve out the time.
The first time I called her I asked if we could meet for lunch at Between the Buns, a local deli famous for their yummy sandwiches. She didn’t show up. Pondering it I wondered since she was a single mom maybe she might not have had money for lunch out. I called another day and asked if we could meet at a restaurant for an afternoon snack. She brought her two daughters, Ruby and Molly. We ordered French fries and sodas, I picked up the tab of course. I realized it was more comfortable for her to have them along and important for me to meet her girls. Our conversation was a bit stilted, but at least it was a start.
She called me a short time later and we met for coffee. She asked for me to help with her oldest daughter Ruby because she had attempted suicide. Katie was scared and asked me if I would talk with her. Of course, I said yes but at the same time. I thought it might be over my head. As it turned out Ruby’s struggle was a very overwhelming situation for a middle school girl. Her Mom had bought her peach-colored sweatpants and a sweatshirt for gym class. Ruby was only a little overweight but she said the outfit made her look and feel like a pig. I remembered my time in the locker room when I was her age. I took her to K-Mart and bought her a white sweatshirt and black sweatpants. Black is slimming and the white looked classy. The problem was solved and I was touched by Katie reaching out to me.
Time went on and I was at a church softball game when I overheard our pastor Rick say that Katie had just been diagnosed with leukemia. I was shocked. I had no idea that she was even sick. I hadn’t heard from her and wondered why she hadn’t called. She was at Oregon Health Services University Hospital in Portland three hours north. I gathered up her girls and we went as soon as possible. On the way up the hill, we stopped at a little gift shop and bought a huge helium balloon that said “Get Well Soon.” But it turns out it wasn’t going to be soon and my journey with her and her girls had barely begun.
While Katie was in the hospital, she wrote me eighty letters (I still have them). I know they helped her process what was happening in her life. Her handwriting was small and many of the letters were four or five pages long. She wrote beautifully, and given the time and opportunity she could have been an author. In the first letter I got from her was May 23, 1989, it showed me I was doing what God called me to. The letter in part said:
“Dear Margee. It’s surprising to me to realize how much I’ve grown to depend on people like you for emotional support and as not just “somebody from my church,” but a friend. I want you to know that I really appreciate you. It’s hard to believe that not so long ago I didn’t have Christian friends. You have been a good role model for me…when you tell me about the things you struggle with and the lessons you are learning, you are saying something to me about who you really are right now. Thanks for sharing yourself with me. Love, Katie.”
At that time there was no cancer treatment center in Roseburg so the hardest part was how much time she had to be away from her girls. Her concern was laced through every letter and conversation. They were just beginning their teen years; a very difficult stage which a mom wants to be there for. Especially when the heart hurts which often accompanies that age.
Bob, Dave, myself, and Katie teamed up to make a plan for the girls’ care. For months the cycle she was: one week at OHSU then a week at home. Cleo, a single lady from church volunteered to keep the girls while Katie was in the hospital. Cleo’s house was close to the girl’s school so they could walk on their own. Katie and her girls came to visit our family many times. Sometimes they’d stay overnight although we didn’t have an extra bedroom, they didn’t mind sleeping in sleeping bags on our family room floor. The girls were a joy to have around; they teased me. I didn’t mind and I loved Katie’s quiet ways.
I also found I could do practical things to help her out. For example, I took her rent check to her landlord, sorted through the mail, paid her bills with her pre-signed checks, and helped her organize the daunting medical bills. I took her girls grocery and clothes shopping when she was in the hospital as well.
At first, she was able to cover most of her expenses herself. As time went on, the church stepped up more and more to help. Several times I went to Pastor Rick’s office to tell him her current financial needs and each time he had the bookkeeper write a check that I would give to her or deposit in her bank account when she was gone. Katie told me later that she and her girls would have been homeless without our church or my help. God did that, not me.
With all the time spent helping her, I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. I had two teenagers to shuttle around, my responsibilities at the salon, church activities, and the basics of keeping our household running smoothly. At that time, I was a “high functioning” bi-polar. I was able to handle most things in life. Dave and I made a list of those things I was doing and prioritized the list. Most of the church activities were curtailed for a while, and helping Katie was not optional. She was no longer an assignment; she was my friend.
When the time came that the chemotherapy wasn’t helping, she was referred to Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center in Seattle Washington to be evaluated for an autologous (self) bone marrow transplant, it was her only hope, but a very scary one. Dave and I took Ruby, Molly, and their school friend Rosie to visit Katie in Seattle before she had to be isolated to prevent infection after the transplant. The six of us went to see the government boat locks and a seagull took the opportunity to poop its yellowish-gold colored poop on Ruby’s white leggings. We were all stunned and she was mortified, especially for a middle school-age girl who didn’t have another pair of leggings with her. She just had to wear the dirty ones. We went to the motel where Dave and Rosie were staying so she could change before dinnertime.
Katie’s girls got to stay one night with their mom in the tiny apartment that the hospital furnished for her. It helped me see what she was experiencing and I know it meant a lot to her.
Comments