DEAR CARL by Anna Friend

Hello, Dear Carl fans

I am thankful for your support of Carl’s mom. She has made a fresh start in the new year. In her mid80s, 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.

Dear Carl,

It is a warm, too warm, day in May. I took a walk this morning in the neighborhood. Do you know I didn’t meet one person outside? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised because no cars were outside their garages. People are working, and kids are back in school. Normalcy is slowly returning to our world, but it is a “new” normal. I am not sure I can endure it. I miss community life. Our masked environment shields our best accessory—our smiles. I miss smiles. Today Donna took me to a small drugstore with a boutique inside. Her newest accessory is a rhinestone-studded mask. She wanted to buy me one, but I opted for a clear shield-type mask. I don’t think I like it, though. I looked like a welder or a robot. She looked like a gypsy storyteller, complete with rhinestones and bangled bracelets to ring.

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.

Our precious Donna has a heart for the “least” in our world of influence. I learned this today. Preacher Larry once spoke about us being the hands and feet of Jesus. I was a young Christian at the time, feeling like Nicodemus. I asked myself, “How can I be that?” I was thinking in physical body terms. When your wife and I were leaving the grocery store heading to the car, all masked up, she said we need to make a detour. We walked to a handicapped parking space where an older gentleman (my age at least, ha-ha!) was sitting in his battered wheelchair. He was sitting there staring up at the rare appearance of fluffy white clouds. Donna approached him and asked him how his day was going? He said, “Can’t complain.” She expressed her shared appreciation of seeing the fluffy cotton balls in the sky. She didn’t ask if he needed help, or if she could do something. I was thinking, can’t you offer some help. She proceeded to bend her knees and at his level, she spoke with him some more. She mentioned his handsome dress shirt and spiffy shorts. She mentioned his nice tan and told him he looked handsome. As he sat next to the passenger side of the van, his smile grew bigger. He engaged in a respectful conversation about the weather, his reluctance to wait in the vehicle while his caregiver went shopping (hence his sitting outside in his wheelchair), and how he felt less alone and part of society watching people go in and out of the store. Before saying our goodbyes, Donna asked, “May I get you something to drink, snack, or do something for you?” He said, “Honestly, people often do stop and ask if I need anything, but no one stays to talk. You already gave me what I need. You didn’t see a man in a wheelchair. You saw me. Thank you.” When we were in our car, I had tears falling from my eyes. Donna asked, “Why are you crying, Mom? You know it doesn’t take much to be Jesus to someone.” I replied, “The man had nothing he could do or give to you, yet you gave away something very important to you—your time.” She responded, “Exactly! No more about it. The milk is probably spoiling now.” Love your Donna, she still is so “her,” but selfish she is not.

Son, in heaven we will be serving, worshipping, and receiving Jesus’ love in person. If you are reading this, then I am already holding Jesus’ hands and sitting at his feet. You, my son, are His hands and feet. I have seen your volunteer efforts, and His love pours through you. Keep your eyes open to the unscheduled opportunities to be someone’s joy or answer to prayer—meet their needs. It doesn’t have to be an exhausting, challenging, or oppressive command of God. Just be mindful and recognize little moments of His call. Now on the physical side, Donna said you and she are scheduled for mani-pedi appointments soon. What? Really, son? I guess there is nothing wrong if your hands and feet are presentable in process of His work. I am hopeful that you are finding comfort in these letters written to warm your heart as you remember how much I love you.

Love, Mom

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” Matthew 25:40