Thoughts from Elisabeth’s dear friend, Arlita Winston…
Memories are made of this!
One of my favorite memories as a child was gazing into a kaleidoscope. It was a long brass tube containing mirrors and pieces of colored glass or paper at one end. Looking through a keyhole at the opposite end, I slowly turned it. Vibrant colors danced with ever-changing shapes. Their reflections changed the patterns as I slowly rotated it. They never fell in quite the same way, ever.
My years of friendship with Elisabeth Elliot were like that. Ever fresh. Certainly, never dull. A fragrant memory . . . yes, fragrant is the word. . . riding our bicycles from Strawberry Cove in Magnolia to a neighboring fishing village. The air was brisk yet heavy with salty sea brine and pine sap. We raced around curves, hair wildly flying; and coasted down hills shouting out the next part of stories that really happened. With gales of laughter, we would stop so we could savor better what the other was saying. Then back to pedaling. We had no trouble at all following the storyline. Sometimes the wind carried a phrase away. . . but no matter, we caught the gist.
How many miles? How many stories? For hours two souls mirrored a theme and myriads of patterns fell into place. Sometimes I was the mirror and she the brightly colored glass. Then, with the slightest turn, it was reversed. We were held in the hands of our Creator, The Grand Watcher, who with the slightest turn could, and would turn our lives into patterns that filled us with awe.