Blankets, biccies and a box set make it a rainy day to remember
Annie
had gathered some apples from her garden. She gave them to a workmate who made apple crumbles from them and gave one to a neighbour who had done her a good turn. The neighbour had a seven-year-old granddaughter who was depressed after falling out with a friend. On a wet cold day, the neighbour arranged an afternoon tea with the crumble, ice cream, custard, hot chocolate, blankets and a DVD. Then she asked her granddaughter who she would like to invite to share it. After some hesitation, and with just a little encouragement, she invited her ex-best friend. They made up. And had the “best afternoon tea ever ever ever!” How did Annie know all this to tell me? The other little girl was her granddaughter!
When Peter’s garden hut accidentally burned down, the neighbourhood was shocked. Except for John.
He was practically rubbing his hands in anticipation.
Peter explained that John composted his leftover food and garden waste. Then he used the end product as fertiliser to grow more veg. He was always on the look-out for charcoal to help with the process.
“Ahhh… that’s nice,” I said, for wont of anything else to say.
He laughed. “Yeah, he could have been more subtle about it. But, I did need the reminder.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant. “Reminder?”
“That there is no situation so bad,” Peter replied, kicking a charred piece of wood, “that there isn’t good in it somewhere for someone.”
She recalled being a new bride, back in the ’60s.
A letter in a newspaper mentioned a young woman who was struggling to put her own wedding together. So, my friend, wishing someone else all the joy she’d had on her special day, wrapped her wedding dress up and sent it to a woman she’d never met.
I was temporarily rendered speechless by her act of generosity.
While I searched for words, she grew thoughtful. “My mother made that dress for me. She put her love into every part of it. I sometimes wonder if she minded me giving it away.”
In a flash of certainty, I knew Mother wouldn’t have minded. And I understood where my friend got her good heart from. You see, before Mother ever put her love into every part of that twice-blessed wedding dress, she raised a daughter the same way.
The long ,light nights have vanished, Summer is no more, As we watch the season changing, Through Mother Nature’s open door. Trees of gold and russet brown, All aglow in a frosty sun, Transforming our landscape once again, Autumn has begun.
The charity shop was small and a little cramped. Somehow, I found myself in front of a woman trying to pay for her purchases.
I apologised profusely, then said, “That’s a beautiful christening dress. And those sparkly shoes are adorable. Are they for someone special?”
“Yes,” she told me, emphatically. “I don’t know who she is but I am taking them with me when I go back to Nigeria and I am sure I will recognise her when I see her. Then, I will give them to her mother.”
Such kindness in such an ordinary setting. For a second, I was lost in imagining a young mum dressing her little girl in such secondhand finery.
I hadn’t taken the woman for an angel at first. But to the mother and child on the receiving end of her gift, I am sure that’s how she will appear.