“Oh ye of little faith.” — A saying Cynthia Drake lived by.
Cynthia was a woman of few words, with a “look” that spoke paragraphs, and a kind, giving essence that made you feel seen, heard, and loved.
In fact, if you ever visited Cynthia and her husband John on their 52-acre farmhouse in Portland, Jamaica, you were fed until you couldn’t move and left with the food you couldn’t carry. Fruits, vegetables, meat, plants—whatever you wanted, it was yours to take.
Cynthia firstly met John at church, where they quickly fell in love. Married in 1953 with just a single gold band, they were the epitome of true love. Every morning they would spend the first hour in bed listening to the radio, talking, and laughing. They would drink coffee on the veranda with crackers and jam, feeding the birds before retiring to the dining room for breakfast. They lived for each other, they loved each other, and although John was the head of the house, she was the neck that made the head turn.
Cynthia’s purpose in life was caring for others. She was a nurse, however, her husband wanted her to be a stay-at-home mother. As much as she honoured and respected her husband, she honoured and respected her purpose more, and sped down the streets of Portland to work every day. She loved and cared for others at work, and came home to love and care for her husband and five children.
Cynthia spends her remaining years in Portland with her husband, tending to the farm and caring for her plants and animals. Restoring faith in those who have lost it, calming their panic with her words: “Oh ye of little faith.”
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