Orthodixie
She had a white stripe of hair, off center from between the eyes, swooping back from her forehead — always immaculately coiffed. (She’s pictured here in red with my family back in July.) My wife was her “Godmother.” We always joked in a flirtatious way, Sheila and I.
The accent, almost Cockney; the fiery personality, incorrigible. Dynamis!
She adored her husband. After he died, everyone thought she’d soon follow. She’d followed others — even me. She followed me out of St Mary Parish, Asheville — she, an Anglican from England at that! She became Orthodox, along with her dear husband (who’d served 40 years or so as an Episcopalian deacon). They helped give our new Antiochian Mission gravitas.
They even followed me when our mission joined the Russian Church Abroad. Her husband, Subdeacon Andrew, died shortly after on November 6, 1997.
She never missed a baptism (rarely missed church). Every single one, there she was. She never really felt too well, in all the years I knew her. Always problems. Family life, children — grands & greats — dominated her world. Our Lord and Lady (to whom she was especially devoted) sustained her, lifted her past worldly cares. She loved the Prayer Rope. She was a snazzy dresser. Always, ALWAYS, had her head covered in church — Anglican, Russian, Antiochian — even if services were held in a garage.
“I dunno.” That was her most used phrase. “I dunno.” She used it a lot, but I can’t say that it was her favorite. She loved to give advice and, by golly, never followed that of others. Oh sure, she’d listen and nod. But, I tell you, that woman had a self-will of steel. God bless her. She never failed to tell you she loved you. But, just like Winnie the Pooh would emit, “O Bother,” Sheila would exhale “I dunno … I dunno.”
She followed us back to Antioch excitedly, proclaiming her love for Bishop BASIL. She’d only met him once, back when we were in a store front. Yet the impact made never wavered.
In the course of our time together there were some times of extreme unpleasantness within the parish. Yet, having lived most of her adult days as the wife of a clergyman, she knew how such times could be. She hung in there! She encouraged us to do likewise. We had to move from the property that she and her husband had helped to purchase, where he’d first served as an Orthodox Subdeacon, and from whence he’d been buried. She came along. We set up shop a couple more places before it ended. Everywhere there was Liturgy, especially once in her home, she was there.
She always brought her sidekick, her best bud (and great granddaughter) Brittany. Though she always called her “Miss Brittany. “
Every year, from 1997 onward, at every new session of Adult Christian Ed she wanted to know what happened when you died. Essentially she was asking: “Will I see my husband again?” As mentioned earlier, we always thought she’d soon follow her husband to the other side. Yet, with Miss Brittany by her side, she struggled not to leave.
Hold on though we wish, sometimes God has other plans. I dunno. Death came yesterday for Sheila “Mary” Loveday Harris Douglas. A woman of intense and unwavering faith — who’d married a man within whom there was no guile. Simply, delightful. God is [always] good. I thank Him for blessing me, my family and parishioners with her, their, friendship. And, as she always wished, I hope that the mystery beyond this life finds those two united in that which is to come.
May her memory be eternal!
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In