DEAR CARL

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,

By now you have read several of my letters. This one is appropriate for this month of celebrating love. We most likely are not celebrating romantic love in heaven, but we are experiencing “perfect love.”

This morning I had a gratifying visit with Donna. She was wiping up some spilled cream from the coffee bar. The light film was nearly imperceptible, but she could not sit and sip her coffee until she took care of the distraction. I remarked, “Donna, I see you and I are much alike.” She turned to me, “Do you really think so?” Her face turned pinkish, and her voice seemed sheepish. She continued, “I want to be like you.” I was not expecting her response at all.

Son, I remember meeting Donna for the first time near the college. When my eyes met hers, her eyes dropped as I approached the wrought iron bistro table that held my son’s future. She esteemed my shoes, then rested her eyes on my neckpiece. Your voice was gentle as you introduced us. My first impression was not affected by the scrutiny of my appearance, but your mannerisms in her presence. You were always a gentleman and exceedingly polite and honorable to me. The difference was the muted volume and lack of enthusiasm. You seemed nervous. Perhaps you wanted me to approve. Donna was a stunning young woman. She still is beautiful with her sharply carved face, refined eyes, and plump lips—no doubt expensive. I remember her keen manners, willingness to hug, and somewhat feigned confidence. I was quite pleased with her zeal for the future, and the love she conveyed to her family. She looked at you as if star struck. I did approve. You would be cherished.

It had rained earlier in the day when you were married. Donna seemed quite pleased that I wore her less than matronly “mother of the groom” suggestion. She proclaimed her joy in seeing me in my high heels. I recall not speaking much to Donna as she led me into the bridal chambers of the church. I was concentrating on the slippery walkways. Before I left the chambers to go to the sanctuary, I apparently imparted to Donna, “I wish you and Carl a love that doesn’t fail each other–a strong love like his father’s and mine was.” For many years, Donna held those words as a “charge” and a means to earn my approval. This saddens my heart.

As we sat at the breakfast table, coffee in our hand-spun pottery mugs, I peered into Donna’s eyes. I asked her to explain, “I want to be like you.” She relinquished her emotional response. Her words fell onto my lap. Picking up each word, I prayed for the Lord to give me wisdom. It was lunchtime when our conversation found its rest. At peace with each other, we smiled. I accompanied her to the coffee bar and showed her where she missed a spot. She hit me with the dish towel and then I fixed her a sandwich.

Love well, my Carl. Love with an intensity that tells Donna she is enough—more than enough. Celebrate what brought you together decades ago, not just love but purposes, plans, and passion. Celebrate the successes. Take time to speak gratitude for the family you raised, the grandchildren you are spoiling, and these golden years afforded you by God. He gave you Donna as a helpmate. She does her calling. Always affirm her contributions to your life. Touch her face, kiss her lips, and for goodness sakes buy her jewelry on Valentine’s Day. No shoes, no clothes, or anything considered necessary. She still stews over the apron you gifted her on your first married Valentine’s Day.

Love, Mom