Make the Widow's Heart Sing

When I was about 13 years old, my church youth leader Donna Clark created an unforgettable experience for me and my comrades. The project was inspired by a phrase from Job in the Old Testament: to cause the "widow's heart to sing for joy."

Each of us were assigned to a widow in the neighborhood. We made plans to honor these women at a special luncheon. To prepare, Donna spent several weeks teaching us the skills to carry out our mission. We learned how to plan a menu, cook simple, delicious food, and create homemade invitations. After a lesson in cross-stitching, each of us spent hours personalizing an apron, with our guest's first name, to present to her at the event. I got a lot of stitching experience because my widow's name was long--Georgianna. Also, we each practiced a talent for the entertainment. I decided to learn and recite "The Daffodils" by William Wordsworth. I still remember the last two lines.

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

At the long-anticipated luncheon, we listened as these experienced, wise women shared a little about their lives. As you can imagine, the ladies loved the occasion. At least they made us feel that way. I still have Georgianna's thank-you note. Donna's lesson was not lost on me and my friends.

So, today, as I was privileged to deliver roses to many different widows (one just made a widow last week), that phrase kept running through my mind. Make the widow's heart to sing for joy!

Nelma had her beautifully bound life-history on her coffee table. As I carefully skimmed through the pages, she told me that she's asked her children and grandchildren to read the stories--the lessons learned--and not just look at the pictures. I hope they heard her.

Leaky Eyes and The Semi-Colon Club

You've all played it. The check-out lane game at the store. You think the lane you're in is the slowest ever. So you switch to another. Well, I usually lose at that game, so today in Costco I decided to stick it out. I held my bouquet of persimmon-colored roses and watched customer after customer check out in the lane next to me. The old man ahead of me had concerns about the price of what he was buying. Then he had trouble writing out his check. What was beautiful was the patience and kindness of the checker. It made me not mind the wait.

Anyway, the reason I write all this is because I am glad I got delayed. It made the timing perfect to run into a certain Costco employee as she was finishing her break. She commented on the beautiful color of the roses I was holding and we started to chat. I gave her my first flower, and she sent me to give the next one to a worker at the customer service counter. This woman (I'll call her Jen) was so touched by her co-worker's kindness that she even teared up. She really needed to know someone cared about her today. When I took the third rose to Jen's mother, I saw where she inherited her leaky eyes.

Jen's mother is a hair dresser at an assisted living center. When I first entered the salon, I just stood back and watched as Jen's mother shaved an elderly woman's chin with a straight razor. At first I smiled, thinking I should get in line. But then my heart was warmed as I watched how tenderly she worked, and how she kept reassuring the woman who obviously didn't like the lotion on her face. When she finished I got her attention and explained the reason for my visit. Gratefully, with tears in her eyes, she accepted the rose and note from her daughter. Then she promptly sent me back to Costco to take my next rose to none other than Jen. I couldn't refuse.

And so the chain went on today, interrupted just a couple times when someone wasn't home.

One more part of my day.... I don't usually tell people about my cancer. But sometimes when they just can't figure out why I am out delivering flowers to strangers, I tell them about my situation and how this is something I do to keep my mind off myself. Well, today I met a grandpa who used to have colon cancer. We've both had surgery, so we both belong to the semi-colon club. But what I want to say about this man is how his home felt. It was a peaceful place. More than just quiet. It was peaceful. He showed me pictures of his family and shared a couple experiences with me, things I needed to hear. Things I'll probably just put in my journal instead of here.

It was a good day.

Changing the Question

It takes a bit of energy to go all over town on my rose game days. Yesterday I was SO thirsty. I kept thinking I should stop at a drive-thru or something. But once I get another address going in my GPS, I'd rather just move on to the next house.

Jill* was next. She and I talked for a while on her front porch. Then she got chilly and invited me in. She was thoughtful and contemplative as she shared some of her struggles and experiences. She spoke openly of God. When I'm out delivering roses, I'm never the first one to mention spiritual matters, but for some reason it comes up a lot.

Jill told me of a couple instances when she was miraculously healed. Those and other experiences led her to have strong faith in God. So for years she asked him to heal her depression. "You have healed me before. Why won't you heal me of this?"

Then one day it occurred to her that she might be asking the wrong question. Now, when she prays, she simply says, "What do you want me to learn from this?"

She still struggles. It doesn't look like her problems will be solved anytime soon. "But at least," she says, "I know what questions to ask."

As I walked to my car to deliver the next rose to Jill's friend, she poked her head back out her front door. "Would you like a water bottle for the road?" Gratefully, I accepted.

*She gave me permission to post her story if I changed her name.

My Assistant

What a treat to take my daughter on deliveries today. The first 8 roses went among her friends. I tried to stay in the background.

The rose isn't that important

I was sent to deliver a rose to Margo. It turns out she didn't need the rose. She needed me.

Her sweet old mother let me in, and I found Margo running around her kitchen. Platters of eye-pleasing food cluttered the counters. “I need help, and I literally didn't have time to call anyone.” I put the flower down and said, “I’m here.” While she frantically cut vegetables and directed her mother to get parsley from the garden, I rolled balls of fragrant gingersnap dough in brown raw sugar, two at a time, and filled the cookie sheets.

I couldn't quite catch all that she was saying…something about a teacher appreciation social (maybe?) at the elementary school behind her house.

Margo loaded her car with all the deliciousness and off she went while I stayed behind to wait for the cookies to cool.

The whole experience reminded me of something my good friend Kathy G. taught me. Sometimes when we want to visit a friend, for whatever reason, we think we need to come with a loaf of bread or a plate of cookies... or a rose. But maybe all that friend needs is us. 

Cancer Schmancer

My cancer is nothin'. That's how I felt today as I delivered roses to a few women who are going through trials much greater than mine. It's a privilege for me to sit with a person in their home and hear a little about their life. In fact, it is an AMAZING privilege. Why don't we take the time to do it more often, I ask myself.

Marlene and I hit it off. Maybe it's because we both have yellow walls in our homes. She's an interior designer and a great-grandma. Her health won't permit her to go to church, or to many other places, for that matter. But she has a beautiful, warm, yellow living room where she goes to pray in the evenings. Lovely. I could have stayed in that room with her all day if I didn't need to get home to my kids returning from school.

Today my troubles were forgotten. And I made some new friends to boot!

Lesson Learned

I started out today gung-ho. When she heard about my rose game, my friend Sally from Kansas had requested via Facebook that I take a rose to her life-long mentor in Springville. From the way Sally lovingly described her I was excited to meet this angel of a woman. Unfortunately, she wasn't home. So I left the rose and a card with words of love from Sally.

As the day went on, my efforts seemed fruitless. No one was at home or at their office desk. I left a lot of flowers on doorsteps or with the receptionist. Was I wasting my time? My game didn't seem fun anymore.

I stopped early. I was tired and a little discouraged.

When I got home, there on my front porch was a bouquet of flowers. A friend had remembered that I started back on chemo today (after a short break) and wanted to let me know she was thinking of me. Oh sweet, sweet friend.

It was okay that I wasn't home to receive the flowers when she brought them. I still felt her love and my day was immensely brighter.

So maybe today's efforts weren't in vain after all.