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

Dear Carl,

Son, I am sitting here laughing at my dining table filled with the oddest vegetables. I have a cabbage big as a human head, bigger than your uncle Bart’s, a butternut squash - the shape of a pregnant woman, and a pumpkin, small, perfectly round, and speckled. I am having a good day. Arthritis and hip pains went easy on me this morning. I went on a field trip with the senior center. They socially distanced us by putting us 6 to a bus with 2 aisles of seats between us. We all had to wear those dreadful masks. The bus smelled of Lysol but not a pleasant scent, more like a hospital smell. My dear friend did not go with us. She has taken a turn back to weakness. I hate cancer. The fall weather has made life a bit more comfortable, but with it comes certain sadness. Carl, life has its seasons of pruning, shedding of old, and yet new harvests, like the crazy produce I bought. It distorts us, but we remain useful and good in many ways. I know I sound philosophical. Hey, a big word for your mama! I guess I see myself slowing down. I am tired. The slower pace of fall will be welcomed.

Don Juan, the gardener, is at his all too friendly antics again. He pulled up all the old plantings in my garden and planted fresh, colorful mums. He told me, “I plant beautifoo flores para usted.” I wish I could remember his actual name. He is a gentle, 60 something man. He is just messing with this old woman. He is truly like a son taking care of his mom… like you. I hope you get to come next month with the family for Thanksgiving as planned. Your boys each sent pictures of my great-grands this week. I have heard from them more recently. Do they think I am dying? I am, but not just yet. The only thing I am dying for is hugs. I miss you all so much. They asked me on the trip this morning why I did not move to Arizona. I guess I should but, I could not leave our house. Also, I do not want to leave this South that I love. Son, it is not the same old South, but it is still filled with good people, manners, and familiarity that gives me security and hope.

Well, my coffee pot just beeped. I am getting ready to read my Bible. It still looks too new. I have had it for three years now. Even though I read it daily, it still does not look like Preacher Larry’s. How about I look up a special verse for you now? Let me put this pen down a minute.

“Don’t be misled—you cannot mock the justice of God. You will always harvest what you plant. Those who live only to satisfy their own sinful nature will harvest decay and death from that sinful nature. But those who live to please the Spirit will harvest everlasting life from the Spirit. So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up. Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone—especially to those in the family of faith. (Galatians 6:7-10)

Preacher Larry says we are to love others and do good things, even when people are unkind. He says we will be blessed. Mostly we will be happy knowing that we are following Jesus, and someday we will see Him in heaven. He simply explains things to me. I hope this word helps you, son. Plan on doing good for others. Start with Donna. She needs lots of attention. Take her to that fancy hotel where you all’s neighbor friends went. She told me all about it. I love you, son. Go get some healthy food. Call me.

Love, Mom