DEAR CARL by Anna Friend

Hello, Dear Carl fans

Happy New Year to you and yours. I am thankful for your support of Carl’s mom. She has made a fresh start in the new year. In her mid-80s, she thrives for quality of life and establishing a legacy of family love.

Carl’s mom has lived in North Carolina for most of her life. She is a southern transplant and has enjoyed the culture, hospitality, and high regard for kin—family closeness. She became a widow in her early 40s and has only one son. Carl was just entering college when his dad died. Carl married a beautiful woman (Donna) with ties in Arizona. He moved and established his home in Arizona soon after college. Carl has 2 sons and is a grandfather of 3 children. Carl’s mom had friends and community work she enjoyed in North Carolina that kept her from moving to Arizona upon her husband’s death. She had lived in the home where she and her husband shared most of their married lives. She moved into a senior living cottage a few years ago. Every week, she sits at her dining table and writes her son a handwritten letter, though he calls her almost every Sunday.

New this year—Carl’s mom is now living in her son’s home. She made an abrupt decision to move to Arizona upon the death of a close friend, and at the request of her daughter-in-law. Although Carl and his mother now have time for in-depth conversations, which she relishes, she has decided to continue to write letters to Carl each week. She is documenting her life and life lessons in them. She folds the letters neatly, places them in envelopes, seals, and dates them. She then stores them in a large wooden box that she inherited from her friend, Shirley. She wants to leave Carl his small family’s history and tie them with the assurance that her Lord and Savior was with her, her husband, their families, and Carl, even when they did not know Him.

Dear Carl,

Life has settled into a new norm here in your grand home. I am thinking of how long I waited to move in, and how unfortunate to have wasted the opportunity to be around you and my grands. However, I will not live in the land of regret. Today I savor “us.” (You reading this means there is no longer an “us” here on earth, but you have memories. This day I want to convey my gratitude to you for being a blessing.)

My mind went on a journey today to a time in your childhood. Your dad and I were den leaders for your local scouting program. We loved the opportunity to instill the value of care for your community and environment. You were about 7 years old when we took you and a few boys to a senior care home. We did some grounds clean-up and planted spring flowers. You didn’t like dirt! You were a strong boy, in good health, and did your share of rough play, but getting your hands dirty was not cool with you. You were fine loading up bags of leaves in the truck trailer. You tried to rake the most leaves between all the boys before loading them. Bagging them up; well, Dad intercepted that duty for you. You worked hard, and you were happy to see the residents exclaim their joy as you watered the already planted color spots. You grew up to be quite the intellect and thankfully chose a career that kept your hands thick, strong, and able with no dirt under your nails. Life does not always give us choices to avoid what annoys us, instills fear, or makes us uncomfortable. Now, I see you rolling up your sleeves and assisting the needy and frail as you volunteer, tending to their needs. When you came home this evening, you had that look. You were pale with a tinge of green. Into the shower, you went. I knew someone must of “tossed their cookies” on you. God sure grows our faith and gives us the strength to do what we once thought was impossible. Dad would be so proud of your kindness.

I was somewhat lonely today. I am looking forward to when I can participate in events and activities around this lovely town. Donna left early this morning for her nail appointment and then to get a massage. She said it helps her with anxious feelings. I would be anxious allowing someone to touch my hands and body! I was able to speak to the mailman, though. He dropped off the pipsqueak dog’s monthly box of goodies. He left it at the door, but I was able to say thank you as he was leaving. He stopped and spoke a few words. He is a young guy. Must have been taught some manners because he was respectful—too respectful. I joked about his pretty long hair covering his eyes and he said, “sorry.” Poor kid didn’t know I was serious about liking his gold locks. After he left and I scooted the box in, I shut my finger in the door. That’s what this old lady gets for flirting with the post-boy. Pipsqueak looked at me when I said a bad word after hurting my finger. I asked him, “Did Jesus hire you as my judge?” Son, even the best of Christians does life imperfectly. Even if it is just the dog hearing, I must be mindful of my words. My heart is for God. Son, God knows we will make mistakes, fall into old habits, and make unwise choices. He gives us new mercies every morning—enough to give us sufficient grace. We just need to repent and press on. The winning prize for life’s run is heaven. By now, I am walking on those streets of gold and thanking Jesus for giving me a wonderful son like you.

Love, Mom

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” (Lamentations 3:22-24 ESV)

Anna Friend