Dear Carl by Anna Friend

Carl’s mom writes him letters occasionally. Carl is her only child. Carl’s father died when he was in college. Living in the Arizona, Carl calls his Mom in the Carolinas as often as he can on Sundays. Carl’s mom is in her 80s. She lives in a contemporary world with old fashioned values.

Dear Carl,

The summer air is less humid here in the Carolinas. The neighbors are already decorating their porches with pumpkins. We are all welcoming change from this summer, which has proven to be stifling in many ways. Well enough about the weather. I sound like an old man. School has started, but all is dreadfully quiet. Not many buses delivering children down the road. It is a new way of learning for most of them. Preacher Larry has asked us to pray for the students in our county. He reminded us of how we are to love them like Jesus and that we could learn much from them. He spoke about humility and optimistic faith. I guess we adults could all use a little “Back to School” with children as our teachers. Life this year has induced some pessimism.

I must share my experience at the local IGA. I have not been shopping much. I had little Sarah, from church, shop for me the last several months. On occasion, I would go for the ride and sit in the car. However, with Shirley feeling better and chomping at the bit to get out, we take quick grocery shopping trips weekly. The first time we went she had her thin hair wrapped in a turban and wore large, black-rimmed Hepburn sunglasses. She donned a mask, but her bright red lipstick still polished her lips. She is incredibly thin, but beautiful as ever. She prefers the more spendy store near the outside of town. She can get a fancy cup of coffee with whipped cream and the lovely smell of Christmas. Yesterday, I wanted to stay in town. My favorite cashier with midnight fingernails and short spiky hair was there. When I came through the line, the poor dear stood staring at me. After a few long seconds, she loudly pronounced, “I thought you were dead!” The girl then proceeded to tell me she missed me just as exuberantly without skipping a beat. After pinching myself to make sure I had not died from embarrassment and carefully not fixating on her skull mask, I laughed and assured her this old bird is still pecking around. She thrust her arm at me to reveal a pretty little butterfly above her wrist. She complimented me on my hoop earrings and sent me on my way, but not without a chuckle and “glad you are not dead.” Shirley was mortified but more so jealous. I apparently wear “cool” earrings.

Well, I must tend to Sheba. The dear cat needs some attention, and if I’m honest, I need to hit the recliner. I easily tire these days. Please tell Donna my story about the cashier. I know it hurt her feelings that someone thought she was pregnant a few years back when she was not, but at least she was not looked at like a ghost. Learn from your grandchildren, son. They have such hope. Call me.

Love, Mom

“And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, ‘Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.’” Matthew 18:2-4 (ESV)

Anna Friend