Barbara Curtis, one of Servant’s newest authors, died suddenly last week of a hemorrhagic stroke. She was only 62, and her death was a shock. I was just getting to know Barbara as we worked back and forth on her manuscript. In the few conversations we had over the phone, I sensed her energy, her honesty, and her deep faith, and I recognized that she had much to share, not only with our readers, but with me personally. Jennifer Fulwiler—whom I consider much more articulate than me—had this to say about Barbara:
“Barbara was a friend I looked up to for her fearlessness and for the fact that she was so unapologetically herself. She didn’t compromise her values to conform to the status quo—not when she was a radical in San Francisco, not when she made the “crazy” decision to adopt three children with Down syndrome when she already had nine biological children, not when she converted to Catholicism amidst no shortage of public criticism. She never made herself out to be a saint and was as brutally honest with herself as she was with others. Yet she had an unfailing sense of hope and a great trust in the power of God to bring good even out of our biggest mistakes. Though I never met her in person, I considered her a friend. We would e-mail fairly often, and our correspondence often started with her sending me a kind word of encouragement—often at the exact moment that I most needed to hear it. She was a mentor and a role model for me; I always wished I could have even a fraction of her unique brand of joyful courage.”
Barbara, you are loved, and you will be missed.
Featured image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net/hinnamsaisuy