Lipstick

Lipstick
By Sheryl C. S. Johnson
Granddaughter

Lipstick comes to play a great deal in my relationship with Barbara. When I was little she would let me put on lipstick from tiny sample tubes and when I was older she’d watch me apply my lip liner, fascinated by the process. I remember how quickly she would apply her own lipstick then use it as rouge in a few quick strokes to her cheeks that she would swiftly rub in.

One day she remarked that she liked that my lipstick was never faded. Several weeks before, my mother had purchased some non-fading lipstick on QVC. It was odd stuff. The actual shaft of lipstick was green but when you looked in the mirror your lips would be red. It stained your lips and traces would be left in the morning. It had an unnatural staying power. Barbara admired the lipstick so many times that I decided to order some for her. It was my goal in life to deny her nothing because she had been so very good to me, creating the only childhood moments I would ever have.

I was excited the day I brought her her own set of lipstick. I was proud of myself. She was thrilled. I visited a few days later and she told me one of the best stories I’ve ever heard. She was going out shopping, no doubt probably wearing her fuzzy red hat, and she applied her lipstick as always, using it as rouge. When she got home several hours later she looked in the mirror and had two perfect clown circles high on her cheek bones. She laughed so hard tears were threatening to leak out as she told me. It turns out that the lipstick was so powerful that it stained and dried before you could ever rub it in.

As I got older she always thought I looked sick. When I was finally old enough to drive I would visit her often. Without fail I’d walk in the door and she’d exclaim how pale I was. We didn’t know it then but I had hypoglycemia and PKD/PLD. The color of my face was the first thing she’d see when she saw me. She’d spend a half hour pumping me full of vitamins and food and continue to exclaim often the rest of our visit on how sickly I looked. Not flattering. Finally I got wise so I’d pull up in front of her house and apply a fresh layer of make-up, (using powdered rouge), and lipstick. Sure enough, if I was freshly made up she’d never remark on how sickly I looked. Sigh.

The Spanish Man

The Spanish Man

By Sheryl C. S. Johnson

Granddaughter

The scriptures tell us that those who have charity will be found on the right hand of God. I have never known of another who had more charity than Barbara. She had so many come to her door because they knew they would find food, love, and even shelter at her house. Every time I see a welcome mat I think of her. Every time I meet a guest in my sitting room and don’t offer them a bite to eat I wonder if she’s looking down on me, sad at my manners. If I strive a lifetime I may still never know the level of charity she practiced.

On one particular afternoon as we sat on the shady porch, sipping our drinks and rocking, a man pulled up and approached the porch. He was Hispanic with an accent. His English was good but Barbara couldn’t understand him at all so I acted as interpreter. She knew him. He’d come to tell her of a friend’s need. His friend, a female, had benefited from Barbara’s help before. Since then his friend had lived her life in such a way, making so many poor choices, that she found herself needing clothing and food once more. Barbara was upset that after helping her before the woman hadn’t picked herself up and made a good life. I was surprised when she refused the man, telling him she wasn’t going to help that time. She was really mad at this lady for not providing for herself after so much help had been rendered previously. I turned him down politely, though he could understand Barbara himself. The next day I had to step over a box of food and clothing on the porch. The man was coming to pick it up. She couldn’t stand to think of someone suffering.

She couldn’t help herself. I loved that about her. She wondered if she would go to heaven. I knew she would. She was so much like Christ. He must have walked beside her in life, though she wouldn’t admit it.