Katrina, I Hardly Knew You

I knew her as the only daughter of a decades' long friendship with her father.  Katrina and James occupied opposite places on the personality scale.  As introverted as he was outgoing, both scored high on likability scales.  Katrina taught computer skills at The Road Called STRATE, a nonprofit her father had incorporated, primarily for ex-offenders. Efficient and effective, she worked with a diverse group of ex-offenders, the long-time unemployed, as well as marginally prepared men, women, and teenagers. 

As a mom to two daughters and a former school teacher, I tried to draw Katrina out of what I thought to be a limiting shyness and into a comfortable stance of relaxed discourse.  That's how some teachers are, I confess.  It didn't work.  Katrina was Katrina, not a project of my design.  We settled into an easy relationship, as I learned how to accept her reticence, intentionality, and focus on tasks and outcomes.

Adult learners left her classes well prepared to re-enter the digital world of work. Time passed, and Katrina chose another line and work, which she handled with aplomb. While she smiled sparingly, Katrina presented a pleasant demeanor and welcoming spirit.  When I had missed seeing her at her new job over a series of weeks, I asked James how she was.  She hadn't been feeling well recently, I learned from him, but she was being followed by an excellent doctor.

A few days afterward, James and Michelle, Katrina's "other mother," called and informed me that Katrina had been hospitalized.  Would I visit her? They'd pick me up for the ride to the hospital.  Of course! The wing of the hospital where Katrina's room was located took a while to get to.  When we entered, two nurses were finishing up and, with nods, quietly left the room.

James and Michelle stood on either side of Katrina's bed.  I hung back while they took turns talking in soft, short sentences.  When they silently invited me over,  I walked toward the bed.  I sensed the quietest quiet I had ever encountered---a stillness like no other.  The atmosphere had shifted. 

"Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place,
I can feel God's mighty power and God's grace.
I can hear the brush of angel's wings,
I see glory on each face.
Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place." 

I felt angels and as I took one of Katrina's hands, I saw them.  Katrina lay quietly, quieter than I could ever recall.  Yet, comfortable, peaceful, unmindful of me, I'm sure.  I can't know if she felt the angels or their presence.  I murmured a few words' I cannot recollect what.  We left and walked back to their car, none of us speaking.  They drove me home.

James called me the following day to tell me Katrina had transitioned during the night.  Rest in Heaven, Katrina.

I can hear the brush of angel's wings,
I see glory on each face,
Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.