The delivery truck stopped in front of the motor home and was stuck part way into the street when I saw him through the front window. Hmm, I thought. Nobody’s birthday, not Mother’s Day or Father’s Day or anything like that. I watched the driver go to the back of the truck, take out a magnificent plant and come up our walkway.
“Shirley Buxton?” he asked when I had opened the door.
“Sign here, please.”
He handed in a gigantic, yellow Chrysanthemum plant, I thanked him, and as soon as he left I began poking around until I found the little plastic holder that would give me an idea who had sent these stunning flowers.
HAPPY FRIDAY. THANKS FOR TACO MONDAY read the card, which was signed MELINA.
No special occasion had caused my sweet daughter-in-law to think of me, to call her florist and to place this order. The previous Monday while Joel and his crew were still here, I had invited over all the family who live here in Lake Havasu, and we had cooked and eaten tacos outside, thus the Taco Monday reference. I called Mel and told her how sweet and thoughtful she was.
Later in the day, when I opened our RV door in response to a knock, I found the lady who lives in the next RV to ours. They’re “snowbirds,” from Montana, who leave their rig parked here year round, spend the summers at their home, then come to the RV here for the winter. We had moved into the spot next to them while they were gone to Montana, and since they have only been back a couple of weeks, I don’t know her well at all.
But here she stood before me, extending both her hands. “Made a strawberry pie this morning, and we surely don’t need to eat the whole thing. I want you and Jerry to have these.” Smiling, she handed in deep red pieces of fresh fruit pie.
The next day Janey called. “What are you and Jerry doing for dinner tonight?”
“Nothing special, Janey.”
“Well, I want to cook a meal for you. I have a new crockpot and a nice roast. Come down about 6:30.”
Within a 48 hour period, Jerry and I had unexpectedly seen the generous, giving side of humanity. For really no reason, three families had thought of us and decided to spend a chunk of their time to minister to us. Pretty nifty, huh?
It’s touching when I know someone has thought of me, has paused in their activities, made a call, stuck a card in an envelope, considered me when they baked a pie, or rolled a cookie or looked at a chunk of beef. For a few minutes I was there with them, inside their sweet head and in their memory bank. That, my friend, is precious to me.
And at this moment, I’m thinking of all you who are so generous to come frequently to my site, to read my little words, to think with me about life and its processes, to cry sometimes, and at others to laugh. With some of your names I connect faces; others are invisible, your forms unknown to me–yet in the human scheme of things, we speak and think and touch. Thank you. Truly you enrich my life.