I am the mother of two daughters, the youngest having graduated from high school in 2000.  One of her favorite teachers, as it turns out, is my friend Lynda.  This information is shared as a background of sorts for the rest of the story.

Years ago I worked for a local Chiropractor and Lynda would visit as a patient of his from time to time.  We would exchange pleasantries during her visits and through these small conversations I found out that she was my daughter’s senior year English teacher.  We would often remark we should get together, but as often happens with this type of general statement we never did manage to find the time.  That is until we both happened to be grocery shopping in the same store, walk through the freezer department and turn a corner at the same moment, barely avoiding a shopping cart collision.  Upon seeing who we almost crashed into, we started to laugh and once again start a conversation.  That was the end of our 'should get together' days.  A date was decided upon for our first adventure and the rest is history.

Lynda you see has helped me grow in ways she could never have imagined.  I have learned patience, gained spiritual growth and have assured myself of a lifetime friend. She has taught me that it is ok not to be perfect.  It is ok to treat myself as I treat others and above all, she forgives me my faults as I forgive hers.  We laugh with each other and at each other.  We forgive messy houses and dirty cars and plow ahead anyway with whatever we want to do.  For that I am thankful!  

Now, that the background is complete let me tell you please why she is an inspiration not only to me but to others.  Lynda suffered a heart attack a few years ago.  She had trouble healing from that attack.  Medicine, therapy, you name it; she did it if it was supposed to be good for her. Still though, something was missing from that healing.  

Lynda is also a potter.  She has been for years and years.  Having all sorts of free time after the heart attack and before she was allowed to return to work, she would go the pottery studio and work on whatever her hands would tell her they needed.  In that sense, she allows the clay to 'talk' to her and she follows its direction.  The direction it lead her in was to make a heart.  A large heart with subtle breasts.  Breasts that would convey a living, breathing, heart.  At the time, I did a lot of beading work and she asked for my assistance to dress up that heart.  I brought my beads and wire, she supplied the tea and we were good for the evening.  By the time we were done, the heart was speaking to both of us.  It now hangs in her bedroom.  A pleasant sight every time I pass by the door during a visit to her home.  It holds a good memory for both of us, for different reasons.  

Lynda continued to make hearts.  Large, small, skinny and fat.  Some are smooth, some are impressed with lace, some have a brown clay base that has tiny speckles of color, some are dressed with stars as though they shine in the night sky.  Each heart continues to have a subtle pair of breasts to convey the same living, breathing, heart.  She takes pictures of her hearts and shares them with me.  They are wonderful to look at on a computer screen but fabulous to hold and caress in person.  I have watched her hearts change from the beginning to what they are now.  I have watched the hearts change and I have watched  Lynda change.  

I began to encourage my friend to share these hearts with others.  I believed that these hearts had a greater purpose.  By sharing her emotions through the hearts, it would allow her to let go of the pain from the attack on her heart.  Not only physical pain, but spiritual pain as well.  A long time and a lot of urging later, she began to share the hearts through different avenues.  A little longer time and she was able to write a few words about why she does what she does.  It was one of the most difficult things she ever did.  It was a leap of faith for her. 

Some of these hearts are at a Wellness Center where I work.  I see people leave the reception area for their reflexology treatment, or massage or nutritional counseling and head down through the great room.  I see these people stop in their tracks and look at the hearts, touch the hearts, experience what the hearts are meant to cause in people.  People buy these hearts for a variety of reasons.  Birthday presents, Christmas presents, presents just because you need a heart  - a heart from her heart, through her hands - a heart that acts as a hug of sorts.    You see, because of where I work I have the opportunity to hear the reasons for the purchase.  One heart is given to a breast cancer survivor because it is pink and it has breasts.  One heart is given to a heart surgery patient because it was made with a tear in it that looks like it has been repaired.  Another has a glaze on it that is just the right shade of blue green to match the sofa in the apartment of a friend that has experienced more than their fair share of hard times this year.  I could go on and on.  People buy these hearts for a reason.  No matter what the reason, it is healing.  Healing to the giver and healing to the receiver.  

I often will tell Lynda I wish she could see what I see when people buy these hearts.  Finally, just this week she saw for herself.  She took a gamble and brought a heart to a Christmas party as an exchange present.  Her present was chosen by someone, opened and loved the moment it was seen.  Then it was stolen by someone else, and stolen again and stolen again until it had passed through the hands of almost every person at the party.  Each person touched that heart and described why it was they needed it.  It went home with someone who could benefit the most from it.  Most of her hearts usually do.  

After the party she emailed me.  These are her words:  

God really does work in mysterious ways!  We did a gift exchange at the party...and you can steal a gift if you really like it.  Of course, you've already figured out that the heart was THE gift that everyone wanted.  The first person who got it read...with heartfelt sincerity...the attached tag...and I felt such Joy I couldn't believe it!  It was pride that I put into this gift and everyone was fighting over it!  Funny, but Margaret ended up with it then she gave it to Kathy, the girl who got it first.  About 12 people 'stole' the heart but Kathy is very excited to go home with it.  She clutched it to her chest the rest of the night.  She said...you don't understand...I need this.  She almost cried when she got it the first time!  

Thank you, Karen, for fighting with me to put my story on my heart...you were right! 

So you see, God does work in mysterious ways.  He brought Lynda and I together through my daughter and that enabled me to convince Lynda she really needed to share her hearts with others.  Our lives are different now and the lives of the people that she touches, without ever knowing who they are, will never be the same.