Christian Living

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"I remember when Butch and Nancy were coming one Christmas..." Ms. Thomas trailed on in a slow, thoughtful way. I know I had heard this story before, maybe even three times in the last month, but Ms. Thomas liked to tell it. Her wrinkled face would light up and her eyes had this far away look in them, as she took off her reading glasses and began to tell her story. She remembered every detail, how Butch got the car stuck in the ditch during the snow storm, and how Butch couldn't see through the fog when they journeyed across the bridge, and then they lost the map in the car.

It had become a habit that every week I came to visit Mrs. Thomas.. She'd probably tell you I was her adopted granddaughter, but I'd have to say I had adopted her too. She lived alone and took care of herself mostly. Her daughter checked in on her frequently, did her grocery shopping, took her to Doctor's visits and whatever else she couldn't handle. Every once in awhile a neighbor would kindly pop over with a dish of food. But mostly, Mrs. Thomas stayed home by herself and crocheted more afghans and cross-stitched. She loved doing cross-word puzzles, and especially, loved baseball. Well, actually she loved watching sports period, but she was especially fond of the Atlanta Braves.

At first, I felt sorry for her, living all alone and only her TV and sewing to keep her busy. I'd bring her flowers nearly every time. Sometimes I'd bring my kids to sing or chat with her. I wanted to come and cheer her up, you know, make her feel life was worth living. I wished I could take her shopping or to the park or out to lunch everyday.

On this particular visit, I listened intently, smiling at her enthusiasm. It felt good to sink myself into her big, overstuffed couch with all it's crocheted pillows and afghans. My life was turning upside down, with a new job, a new schedule with the children now in school, and so many personal trials I was carrying. I really was not looking forward to going out for a visit. I just wanted to be home. I wanted to sleep in and get away from it all.

I had promised her I would come to clean for her this visit. But as it so happened, she had more stories for me and I was glad to relax and listen. An hour turned into two, and then before I knew it I had been there four hours. We laughed much as we talked, and I swept and dusted. We even rearranged her furniture so she could see the TV better. We parted finally with a hug and kiss.

I realized as I drove back home, Mrs. Thomas had made my day. She turned my day sunny-side up! Her sweet memories of her past as a wife, mother, and friend were comforting to me. Maybe because she lived to tell about it, I don't know. It's funny how God turns the giving around. I came visit after visit to comfort her in her affliction, to make her smile and bring life to her, yet every visit seemed to leave me with the feeling that I was getting much more than I had given her. Maybe it was mutual. Maybe she felt the same way. Anyway, I learned a valuable lesson. I can find happiness in making someone else happy!

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