For the past nine years, our friends, Scott and Pam, have come to Mazatlán to hang with Dave and me, and every year, the predictable happens. Wherever Pam and I go, strangers bump into light posts and wives elbow their husbands. That’s because Pam is stunning and people stare at her. I can’t figure it out. Other than her silky black hair, her cobalt blue eyes, her Italian skin, her perfect white teeth, her petite shape and her impeccable style, what’s to look at?
Nine years ago, our first time shopping at a Mazatlán mall, we asked a sales clerk how to read the Spanish clothing tags. She gave Pam a quick once-over and said “Chico.” Turning to me, she bellowed “Grande.” GRANDE! Pam was a chico. I was a GRANDE. As Pam headed towards the size-two sales rack and I turned towards the tops that double as RV tents, Pam gave me that “I’m so sorry” look. I countered with that “We no longer are friends” look. After I recovered (like three years later), the whole thing became funny. To this day, we both crack up when I bring it up…which is every time we are together.
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
See, I laugh.
Three years ago we were shopping in a jewelry store. I could have robbed the store blind while Edna, the sales clerk, fawned all over Pam. Walking up to her, Edna cupped Pam’s face and began speaking of the “aura” that my friend exuded. She droned on and on and on and on while I stood there like a hood ornament on a junk yard Plymouth. After enough was enough, I cleared my throat and said, “Edna, what about me?” Her response, after staring at my face for a few seconds, was more than even I expected.
“Uh…No.” Then, returning her gaze to Perfect Pam, said, “But your friend, she is magnificent.”
You’d think I would learn, but I don’t. Yesterday P.P, and I went…you guessed it, shopping. Entering a different jewelry store, the clerk greeted us in English and then addressed my friend. “You have a stunning neckline.” I responded that it went well with her “aura,” and the saleslady agreed.
It’s a conspiracy. That’s what it is, a conspiracy.
The amazing thing about P.P. is that her beauty is not her only gift. She is a talented singer, dancer, voice-over specialist and painter. Our condo is filled with Pam’s magnificent contemporary paintings. On this visit, I ordered her latest: an abstract star. The minute I saw it, I knew it was perfect to hang above our guest bed. Pam shared that when she posted it on her website, she received this response: “You call this art? My dog could paint better than you do.”
I asked Pam how she answered. “I told him that he must have an awfully talented dog.”
Add cleverness to Pam’s list of attributes.
What people don’t know about my friend is that her life is not as perfect as it appears. As a child she was a victim of satanic ritual abuse. Her story is horrendous and too shocking to share, but it took years of counseling for Pam to recover. Her paintings became her therapy as she found that her unique blend of colors was a source of healing. What she has overcome would put most people in a mental institution. Not Pam.
Through her experience, she learned that God wants her to share with others who have been abused how to overcome their pain. She realizes (and it has taken her years to get here) that what satan meant for evil, God will use for good (rephrased Gen. 50:20). Pam now depends not on any therapist but on Jesus and only Jesus. Our thirty-six year friendship has become richer and deeper because of Him, and I am grateful that He has allowed me to be a part of her journey.