She sat quietly reading a book in the pew right in front of me. I was attracted to her immediately, but then I have always been fascinated by eccentric types, and she was definitely eccentric. My guess was she was nearing 70 and I was certain she was the first senior citizen I had ever observed wearing knee socks and saddle shoes. Her flip-up sunglasses only added to her subtle charm.

I liked her right away.

Through the entire worship service I watched her with the keenest of interest. I wondered who she was and what she was doing sitting among hundreds of pastors like me waiting for this annual theological conference to begin.

In retrospect, I should have taken a clue from the way she boldly sang the hymns and confidently intoned the liturgy. But the biggest clue of all was the one that she gave as she sat listening to the preacher’s sermon.

She didn’t really sit.

She swayed. She moved. She tensed. She relaxed. She reacted to the speaker the way an opera bull listens to "Carmen". Not just with mind but with body.

I hardly needed to listen to the sermon. Just by watching her muted dance in the pew I could tell when there was law and when there was gospel.

Who was this keen listener, this empathetic of sitters? I sat and wondered and waited.

The preacher that day was one of the finest still preaching. A huge man whose body complimented his intellect, he spent most of his life serving the students at the finest of Ivy League schools, and now he was sharing his ample wisdom with a church full of eager listeners.

But none more eager than this mysterious lady.

By the final verse of the final hymn, my curiosity and genuine attraction had convinced me to make her acquaintance but by the time I placed my hymnal in the rack, she was gone.

The rest of the day was spent only half-listening to the lectures I had traveled so far to attend. I was caught up in a most intriguing mystery and I couldn’t stop until I solved it.

The solution came shortly after dinner. My wife and I were out for an evening stroll, enjoying the warm Midwest twilight. From out of nowhere, as if in a vision, this elderly charmer appeared. She, too, was out for a walk and in the company of none other than the prestigious preacher. He dwarfed her as they strode side by side. It was an amusing sight.

She reached up and put her wrinkled hand behind his ample waist, like a little girl with her favorite teddy. I was moved by the simple act of affection.

She was the preacher’s wife. That was plain to see. She was, of course, much more than this but it was abundantly clear that she took this particular role with great earnest.

We slowed down our pace to give them the privacy her simple act of kindness deserved. Then my wife took my hand or maybe it was me taking hers but of one thing I am certain...in the quiet of that night we both thanked God for the gift of each other.