I begin this latest blogging post after hearing the news of a young woman in her prime as a mother of six , a friend and family member to many people, gunned down as she was leaving a social event two nights ago in Charlotte. She is the daughter of a close friend to one of our guests at Providence this year in our partnership with the Center of Hope.
We’ve written about Fran -- tall, a woman of substance, a leader within the twelve women we are hosting at Providence. Fran is full of sunshine, has a deep faith, is torn between difficult family issues and tries to befriend and help this small group of complex personalities. She has had a hard week, just recovering from a virus and not able to participate in many of PPCCOH activities and events. She had just started to feel better when she heard the news of a young woman’s death yesterday morning. Later in the morning, she would get a telephone call from her son explaining that the young woman was indeed LaQuinta Davis, the daughter of a dear friend, so close that she was considered Fran’s granddaughter and Fran was called grandmother by her and her children.
Our small group of women rallied around Fran, as did last evening’s chaperones and others associated with our project. Walt met with Fran, and we joined him in prayer for the young woman so needed, so loved, and who left her family way too soon.
I read the above passage about Fran’s “granddaughter” killed by a misdirected gun blast into her chest as she exited from the doors of a social club. I replay this in my mind as I read Tandy Graham, Senior Coordinator for Providence’s Project HOPE and her request that we share our perspective for our own community as requested by Walt. This is hard, but as I begin, my kinship for Fran is renewed and I feel her strength and her heartbreak again. So here are words that I use in this communique. May I, with God’s guidance share her nights of pain while under our care and security:
A tear stained cheek, from a woman whose heart was breaking yet again. Yet again, Fran’s plea for why stood out as an audible echo into the stillness of the Fellowship Hall. Our guests saw her pain and anguish, and one by one, each went back into their earlier entry shells to hide away from someone’s new pain and sorrow and disappointment. One by one, they graced their connection to Fran by giving her privacy in their own way, and by the time the senior pastor of Providence Presbyterian Church arrived (he had been with the guests at dinnertime, and thoughtfully gave Fran time to refresh and rest following dinner) Fran had sought the solitude of her bed and pulled the covers over her head.
More easily I had returned to my computer to put finishing touches to several letters prepared at our guests’ requests to family or business associates. There were some who were listening to the television and quietly discussing the evening’s movie schedule -- a rarity for them when I overheard my name being called softly -- “Paulette, Paulette” and as I approached the foyer I saw with great relief that our Pastor, Walt McCanless had arrived. He asked if Fran might want to visit with him and asked after her well being. I told him she was in her room and that I would invite her to join us. I knocked softly on Fran’s door, she answered and I entered her room just as she raised her head, and again as she saw me, she began crying and saying “I don’t want to cry anymore, the tears hurt really bad.” I bent over to her and touched her hand and asked if she might want to talk with our pastor, and she could not reach him quick enough. Fran’s a big woman as am I, but I’m short. She’s tall, and she was up off that air mattress, and standing before Walt before I could get myself out the door. I intended to leave Fran, just as the other women had, to give Fran her time of privacy to speak her heart, to speak her hurt, and to speak of her granddaughter --something held me in place. I really don’t know if it was her arm around me, my arm around her, but something held me in this small circle of kinship, and Walt began speaking with Fran. Fran’s depth of pain and suffering flew up and out and blinded her eyes as the tears fell. With raw emotion of pain and words, she began the story of the untimely death of a young woman, a young mother, a young granddaughter, a young sister, and a young daughter. We heard the sad news of six children, six young people left behind without a Mommy. We heard Fran’s greatest concern and fear that her “granddaughter did not have time to profess her faith out loud before God, and she wailed deep within and reached outward for us and we three embraced.
Moments passed. Her heartbeat fast, her pain not subsiding, but her outward demeanor softened and quieted as Walt began sharing God’s love that accepted this young woman at birth, at life, and now at death. Again, Fran cried and again said the tears hurt, but this time she was hearing God’s love was surrounding her family and "granddaughter’s" family, and Walt continued to reassure her. He listened and accepted her mantle of grief and spiritually counseled her again and answered her questions of why her, why now, what about the babies, how could this be, how could she go on, what should she do, how should she help, and the tears would stop and start. As she tired, her own sadness of her life blended in with the new sadness.
Some of what was shared between Walt and Fran should not be written here, but I felt God’s embrace of Fran take over as Walt invited Fran and me to join him in prayer. Fran hung on his every word, and quietly in her own voice softened by the tears and made raspy, I heard “yes, Father, thank you Jesus...help me, Jesus.” My own heart hurt for this brave, proud, independent woman with the quick wit and the quick smile and spontaneous reaction to events and people. Fran looked up to the ceiling as her eyes swept passed our own, and it was as if her eyes penetrated the tiles and saw beyond worlds without end, and knew she was linked with the Omnipotent power that came back down in strains of love in the center of the floor of a place called Providence.
PS Fran joined her family the next day, late. She decided it best that she not go to the site and witness the candlelight memorial service, but chose to be with the family of the six young children and be an anchor for them and their grandmother. She would later tell those of us at the Providence/HOPE gathering that her “granddaughter” was a good girl, that she only went out socializing five or six times a year, and that she was a very good mother. Fran has had a lot of hurts in her life and because of her environment, most likely this will not be the last incident, but Fran has grace, and she has hope. She hears the voice of God and shares his love with those around her. I think she will overcome, I pray that she will. I asked her to call.
I hope she will.
I need her to do so.
Paulette W. Purgason
Elder, Providence Presbyterian Church 2010
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