A friend of mine died yesterday. How we met was rather strange. About five years ago I received a plea from a a woman in Fortaleza. It appeared on our church's Facebook page. "My son is in São Paulo and rented an apartment there. However, he was tricked into paying a lot of money for the apartment and in the end lost his money." This was the story. Could our church help him?
I didn't believe a word of this strange plea and didn't respond for quite a while. Another plea came a while later and I finally decided that I would call this woman's son to see if the request for help was legit.
Come to find out, it was! We ended up discovering a friend in the mentioned young man. He was a literal God send to our music program at Faith. He and his family have been faithful members for six years.
Elma, the mom, became a great friend too. She was instrumental in editing my four historic fiction books about my family. "A Couple's Life" was published here in Brazil over four different years. Elma encouraged me a lot and did tireless work correcting errors of Portuguese. She never asked a dime for her labor of love and actually told me one time that my books had changed her life.
She began to publish her own poetry and over the same time period saw four of her own books in print. The difference between her books and mine were that she knew how to sell hers. She sold hundreds of her works. While I still have a hundred or so left in my file cabinet.
Elma was a cherished saint. She was a graduated Christian counselor but never let her super intelligence affect our friendship. I asked her once if she ever analyzed me during our conversations. She said, "just a little." and gave an embarrassed Facebook giggle.
She was on my case in another way too. She always wanted to correct any supposed theological errors. She was an incredible speed reader and had read Calvin's Institutes a couple of times. THAT my friends is a huge multiple volume work. Not easy reading.
I would spend an hour writing my 1000 word chapter for my book and she would read it in 30 seconds. Amazing. She could write poetry as easy as frying an egg. She wrote a commentary on Isaiah and had written a brief summary of every book of the Bible.
Yet she was humble. In my fifth book I am going to include her testimony. She had shared it to be a part of that work.
She had been in poor health for several years and just a day before she died she sent me a note saying, "I don't know if I am going to win the battle with this virus. So I just wanted to tell you thank you both for the love and care that you have shown to my family."
Then she went into ICU, where many with the virus don't come out alive. Elma was one of the fatalities. However, she is now with her Savior. She spent her first Sunday in the heavenly realm. I believe that she might have looked for my mom and dad and told them how that we had written their story. But I think that she is still in the Lord Jesus' arms. It's only been two days and that isn't much time in Jesus' hug.
The following is a translation of one of her poems. She hopes that you enjoy it.
Right paths
I chose the path of happiness
The Eternal guides my steps
A path without shadows, only clarity
Tiled road through Love and Truth
In wanderings I contemplate the divine beauty
At dawn each morning, certainty
That there is nothing to prevent contentment
Even if there is pain at some point
I chose the path of loyalty
He who leads me is the Word of Truth
Christ is my sun and protective shield
My feet follow in the Lord's footsteps.
God does not write paper paths
His writing is with purified gold threads
He already wrote the end my story
In the future a life full of its glory
I walk following the heart of God
I don't trust my days to temporality
The best is kept in front of me
In a place where God is present.
Elma Sales
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