I just have to say that this time of year is my absolute favorite for my neighborhood. Each townhome has a similar tree planted in their front yard that all flower at the same time in gorgeous shades of pinks and purples and whites, and it is absolutely breathtaking to look down the block. Well, we also have the most splendid tree in our little backyard that is stunning. I mean, seriously, stunning. If we are going to have to be sick for a week, at least we can look outside our windows and see THIS!
So I was thrilled to be outside and to enjoy the beautiful evening, soaking up some of the last sun of the day and watching the children race through the lush, green grass under the snowy white tree. Such a respite from sickness.
As we were finishing eating and the kids were starting to play, our neighbor wandered by. Now, our neighbor is 84 years old. She is a lovely woman, but she suffers from some form of dementia or memory loss, so we have the same, repeated conversation over and over. She asks me if the children are all mine, and if I have two boys and two girls, and she tells me that it is the same as she had...two boys and two girls. She tells me where each of her adult children currently live, and then she asks if her television is too loud (we are in a townhouse so we share a wall). I assure her every single time that her TV is no problem at all. She then asks me what the range is of my children's ages, from youngest to oldest. So I always tell her that they are between one and six. And every. single. time, she has the same surprised response, shaking her head with a smile and saying, "Wow, that's a handful!" and then continuing to say, "What a blessing!" Oh, and we not only have this conversation every time I see her, we have this conversation about a dozen times in every encounter. It really is the rhythm of our dialogue. So today, as she sat down on our patio to visit and watch the kids play, our conversation altered a bit from the usual! She just expressed what a blessing it is to have our house and our yard for the kids to play. For she had raised four little kids for a time in a city apartment in Chicago, on the second floor, right after the war when times were tight and her husband was a fireman.
Well, for goodness sake, did I ever feel convicted! I had just been telling my husband that I am so ready for our kids to have a bigger yard to run and play in (since ours is extremely small for suburban standards), and our house is, as most of you know, pretty cozy for a family of six! And here my neighbor is reminding me what a blessing it is to have a HOUSE, with a front door and a backyard, albeit the size of a living room! Oh, how blessed I was to have this conversation! Every time Dorothy re-heard that all of the children were mine, two boys and two girls, from the ages of one to six, she was equally delighted. I couldn't even count the times she used the word "blessing." AND she reminded me what a gift my house and my yard are, even when they seem small at times to others or to us.
While Dorothy was there, Ella kept yelling to her and saying hello and asking her questions (like, "What is your cat's name, Miss Dorothy?" to which she didn't know), and she picked some dandelions to bring her. Dorothy boldly asked for a kiss (which you are just allowed to do when you are 84 years old for some reason), and Ella gave her a kiss without batting an eye. Oh, I love the innocence of a child! Ella doesn't know to think twice about Dorothy's repetitive conversations. She doesn't notice that I say twelve times in fifteen minutes that my children are from ages one to six. She just sees a person to love. And she loves her. What a gift.
So tonight, after a sick day at home, spending too much time on the couch wondering when there will ever be order in my house again, a dinner on the patio brought a few unexpected surprises...the beauty of our tree, the reminders from Miss Dorothy, and the refreshing innocence of a little girl.
Happy Spring!
