Tag: memories

  • Ten Minute Talks with Tom

    Ten Minute Talks with Tom

    My friend stunned me the day she offered to make a memory quilt out of Steve’s shirts. Her kindness opened up a friendship between the quilter and the “widow on the hill.” Over three years later Marlene gave me another gift as you’ll see in the video below. The source of a person’s compassion is never an easy story because compassion is born in hearts who have needed kindness themselves.

    The Treasure: Praise be to God … the Father of compassion and  the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)

    If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

    No fire in the fireplace today! Temperatures reach 104 degrees. That’s too hot for this New England girl. But I want to tell you about – remembering my friend Marlene who called to say her husband Tom would be driving me to all of my PT sessions until I could drive myself. Physical therapy – there was going to be a lot of it. Post-surgery inflammation and pre-session narcotics made driving dangerous for me. So three days a week Tom would walk from their home to mine, scale my steep driveway with his bi-lingual book on democracy, and off we’d go.

    Tom thought his driving me to PT was no big deal because, after all, I had so many friends. He was sure someone would volunteer. He thought he was doing what anyone could do. But in reality, Tom took something that to me was actually lonely, painful, and scary … and he made it steady. No phone calls or juggling of schedules. All I had to do was get in the car. He was to me the visible comfort of God. I came to realize that each ten-minute ride to physical therapy was more than a ride; it was a gift of safe presence and thoughtful conversation. I did not expect such treasure on a 2.7-mile drive. And although many of our talks were interrupted upon arrival, we picked up where we left off on the 2.7-mile return trip home.

    I did the math today. Tom drove me to and from forty appointments! That equals eighty ten-minute talks … or eight hundred minutes, which totals over thirteen hours.

     At a recent dinner party I wistfully told some widow friends that my ten-minute talks with Tom were about to end since I no longer needed pain pills. One leaned in with a simple solution: “Don’t tell him!” Laughter reminded me that friendships don’t need to end. Sometimes they just need to take on new dimensions.

    So, next week I get to have Tom and Marlene at my table for a meal and we’ll get to have more than a ten-minute talk.

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  • Grateful for Simplicity

    Grateful for Simplicity

    I remember the day I pronounced the greatest complement about my favorite person, and how it became my earliest memory of embarrassment. I said, “I love Aunt Mable because she’s simple.” Being in my single-digit years, I experienced this countryside woman as welcoming and uncomplicated. Nothing seemed to rattle her, and I felt the hospitality of her heart that made me relax in her presence. The beauty of her character inspired me.  Plus, she played old hymns on her violin and made the best homemade waffles when I visited my cousins on weekends.

    But when I made that statement about loving to be with my simple aunt, the adults in the room missed the innocence of my statement and burst into laughter. They exposed the opposite of what I meant. They said that simple meant “simpleton” or someone who is stupid, who lacks intelligence or has no common sense. In retrospect I suppose it was quite a funny statement to make (and it became a joke in years to come), but my love for my aunt with the hospitable heart makes me take pause and smile today.

    I still value a simple life—simple as in uncomplicated, relaxed, and uncluttered by thoughts or too much stuff. It seems out of reach in the busyness of (even) a good life. But as another Thanksgiving passes, I feel the tug to slow down, breathe, and become that “simple” presence that inspired me as a child.

    The Treasure: Kindness, a word of encouragement, a quiet faith, or fellowship around homemade waffles may influence a child or change the trajectory of a life.

    If you’d rather read than watch the video, here’s the full video transcript:

    The earliest memory I have of my aunt is the day she put me on the back of her old horse named Fury, and we rode down to the blueberry patch on her one hundred acres of land in New England and had lunch there—blueberry muffins and a sweet time together. I’m thinking about Aunt Mabel today because I actually need someone to inspire me. I think I need a little encouragement, so I’m walking a trail remembering her—how she lived as a woman, as a widow, as a mom, as my Aunt Mabel. She was a devout woman of God; she loved her family; she loved me. The thing about her that I remember often is that she befriended people who didn’t have friends, and everyone felt welcome at her table. I loved sitting with her and hearing her. One day she sent me a card that said, “Some people walk by faith … with you it looks more like dancing.” I don’t feel like that’s true of me today, but it still inspires me to take the next step, to keep going beyond the fence where Pilgrim is. That’s what she did. She travelled, she revisited old relationships, dealt with difficulties in her life, in her family, and encouraged people greatly. So, I am looking back—looking with gratitude that there are people who inspire me along the way to live and love well. 

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