I know a lady, a single mom actually. She is in her forties, with three kids, two of which are out of the house. The youngest is still at home, quickly approaching her teenage years. The other two are out of the house, both boys. The oldest boy is married, working as an apprentice in the electrical field, and working on his degree. The other boy is single, just starting college.
That’s the simple part, the surface part. The difficult part is the inner turmoil, caused by the past. She was married seventeen years, only to learn her husband had been living a double life. He had cheated on her, set-up a Ponzi scheme of sorts, and lied about it throughout the marriage. Eventually he was caught and ended up in jail, with the marriage ending around that same time. What was that time?
Well, by the time of the divorce, all three children had been born. The oldest had just started high school and the youngest had just started elementary school. So the mom found a job and started playing the role of provider, as well as protector, as well as nurturer and care-taker. And she did this for six years. Work away from home full-time, only to come home and work full-time all over again. Year in, year out, for six years. Talk about a trooper.
Now, she works as a secretary at a church on the northeast side of Indianapolis. Her middle child, the guy who is single and at college, has been in and out of trouble with the law. Most of his escapades happened before he turned 18, while he was living at his mom’s place. But now, he’s starting to make some better choices, and I can’t help but think these better choices have something to do with the prayers of his mother. She prays hard, works hard, and continues to make ends meet. She loves her boys, loves her girl, loves her dog, and loves her God.
And for all of those reasons, and for all of that story, I call her a living epistle.