naanda 

A Christmas Poem

ABY IF WANNA LOVE ME

American Baseball Legend Babe Ruth

(MUSIC)

VOICE ONE:

George Herman Ruth was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in eighteen ninety-five. George's parents owned a bar where people came to drink alcohol. His mother died when he was very young. His father was killed in a street fight.

Young George was forced to live on the streets of Baltimore. He stole things. He fought with other children. He got into trouble. At the age of eight, he was sent to live at Saint Mary's industrial school for boys. Catholic religious workers operated the school. The religious workers helped George to act better. And they taught him how to play baseball.

VOICE TWO:

By the age of eighteen, George was an excellent baseball player. In nineteen fourteen, a teacher at the school wrote to a friend of his, Jack Dunn. Dunn was the manager of the Baltimore Orioles minor league baseball team. He was the one who decided who would play for the team. The teacher invited Dunn to see the young player.

Death's Messengers

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

　 　In ancient times a giant was wandering along the highway when suddenly a stranger jumped toward him and shouted, "Stop! Not one step further!"

　 　"What?" said the giant. "You, a creature that I could crush between my fingers, you want to block my way? Who are you that you dare to speak so boldly?"

　　"I am Death," answered the other one. "No one resists me, and you too must obey my orders."

　 　But the giant refused, and began to wrestle with Death. It was a long, violent battle, and finally the giant got the upper hand, and knocked Death down with his fist, causing him to collapse by a stone. The giant went on his way, and Death lay there conquered, so weak that he could not get up again.

　　"What is to come of this?" he said. "If I stay lying here in a corner, no one will die in the world, and it will become so filled with people that they won't have room to stand beside one another."

　　Meanwhile a young man came down the road. Vigorous and healthy, he was singing a song and looking this way and that. Seeing the half-conscious individual, he approached him with compassion, raised him up, gave him a refreshing drink from his flask, and waited until he regained his strength.

　　"Do you know," asked the stranger, as he stood up, "who I am, and whom you have helped onto his legs again?"

　　"No," answered the youth, "I do not know you."

　 　"I am Death," he said. "I spare no one, nor can make an exception with you. However, so you may see that I am grateful, I promise you that I will not attack you without warning, but instead will send my messengers to you before I come and take you away."

　　"Good," said the youth. "It is to my benefit that I shall know when you are coming, and that I will be safe from you until then."

　　then he went on his way, and was cheerful and carefree, and lived one day at a time. However, youth and good health did not last long. Soon came sickness and pain, which tormented him by day and deprived him of his rest by night.

　　"I shall not die," he said to himself, "for Death will first send his messengers, but I do wish that these wicked days of sickness were over."

　　Regaining his health, he began once more to live cheerfully. then one day someone tapped on his shoulder.

　 　He looked around, and death was standing behind him, who said, "Follow me. the hour of your departure from this world has come."

　　 "What?" replied the man. "Are you breaking your word? Did you not promise me that you would send your messengers to me before you yourself would come? I have not seen a one of them."

　　"Be still!" answered Death. "Have I not sent you one messenger after another? Did not fever come and strike you, and shake you, and throw you down? Has not dizziness numbed your head? Has not gout pinched your limbs? Did your ears not buzz? Did toothache not bite into your cheeks? Did your eyes not darken? And furthermore, has not my own brother Sleep reminded you every night of me? During the night did you not lie there as if you were already dead?"

　　the man did not know how to answer, so he surrendered to his fate and went away with Death.

the Nixie in the Pond

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

　 　Once upon a time there was a miller. He lived contentedly with his wife. They had money and land, and their prosperity increased from year to year. But misfortune comes overnight. Just as their wealth had increased, so did it decrease from year to year, until finally the miller scarcely owned even the mill where he lived. He was in GREat distress, and when he lay down after a day's work, he found no rest, but tossed and turned in his bed, filled with worries.

　　One morning he got up before daybreak and went outside, thinking that the fresh air would lighten his heart. As he was walking across the mill dam, the first sunbeam was just appearing, and he heard something rippling in the pond.

　　Turning around, he saw a beautiful woman rising slowly out of the water. Her long hair, which she was holding above her shoulders with her soft hands, flowed down on both sides, and covered her white body. He saw very well that she was the nixie of the pond, and he was so frightened that he did not know whether to run away or stay where he was. But the nixie, speaking with a soft voice, called him by name and asked him why he was so sad.

　　At first the miller was speechless, but when he heard her speak so kindly, he took heart and told her how he had lived with good fortune and wealth, but that now he was so poor that he did not know what to do.

　　"Be at ease," answered the nixie. "I will make you richer and happier than you have ever been before. You must only promise to give me that which has just been born in your house."

　　"What else can that be," thought the miller, "but a young dog or a young cat," and he promised her what she demanded.

　 　the nixie descended into the water again, and consoled and in good spirits he hurried back to his mill. He had not yet arrived there when the maid came out of the front door and called out to him that he should rejoice, for his wife had given birth to a little boy.

　　 the miller stood there as though he had been struck by lightning. He saw very well that the cunning nixie had known this and had cheated him. With his head lowered he went to his wife's bed. When she said, "Why are you not happy with the beautiful boy?" he told her what had happened to him, and what kind of a promise he had given to the nixie.

　　"What good to me are good fortune and prosperity," he added, "if I am to lose my child? But what can I do?"

　　Even the relatives who had come to congratulate them did not have any advice for him.

　 　In the meantime, good fortune returned to the miller's house. He succeeded in everything that he undertook. It was as though the trunks and strongboxes filled themselves of their own accord, and as though money in a chest multiplied overnight. Before long his wealth was GREater than it had ever been before. However, it did not bring him happiness without concern, for his agreement with the nixie tormented his heart. Whenever he passed the pond he feared she might appear and demand payment of his debt.

　　He never allowed the boy himself to go near the water. "Beware!" he said to him. "If you touch the water a hand will appear, take hold of you, and pull you under."

　　However, year after year passed, and the nixie made no further appearance, so the miller began to feel at ease.

　 　the boy GREw up to be a young man and was apprenticed to a huntsman. When he had learned this trade and had become a skilled huntsman, the lord of the village took him into his service. In the village there lived a beautiful and faithful maiden whom the huntsman liked, and when his master noticed this, he gave him a little house. The two were married, lived peacefully and happily, and loved each other sincerely.

　 　One day the huntsman was pursuing a deer. When the animal ran out of the woods and into an open field he followed it and finally brought it down with a single shot.

　　He did not notice that he was in the vicinity of the dangerous millpond, and after he had dressed out the deer, he went to the water in order to wash his blood-stained hands. However, he had scarcely dipped them into the water when the nixie emerged. Laughing, she wrapped her wet arms around him, then pulled him under so quickly that waves splashed over him.

　　When it was evening and the huntsman did not return home, his wife became frightened. She went out to look for him. He had often told her that he had to be on his guard against the nixie's snares, and that he did not dare to go near the millpond, so she already suspected what had happened. She hurried to the water, and when she found his hunting bag lying on the bank, she could no longer have any doubt of the misfortune. Crying and wringing her hands, she called her beloved by name, but to no avail. She hurried across to the other side of the millpond, and called him anew. She cursed the nixie with harsh words, but no answer followed. The surface of the water remained calm; only the moon's half face stared steadily back up at her.

　　the poor woman did not leave the pond. With fast strides, never stopping to rest, she walked around it again and again, sometimes in silence, sometimes crying out loudly, sometimes sobbing softly. Finally her strength gave out, and she sank down to the ground, falling into a heavy sleep. She was soon immersed in a dream.

　　She was fearfully climbing upwards between large rocky cliffs. Thorns and briers were hacking at her feet. Rain was beating into her face. the wind was billowing her long hair about. When she reached the top a totally different sight presented itself to her. The sky was blue, a soft breeze was blowing, the ground sloped gently downwards, and in a GREen meadow, dotted with colorful flowers, stood a neat cottage. She walked up to it and opened the door. There sat an old woman with white hair, who beckoned to her kindly.

　　At that moment, the poor woman awoke. It was already daylight, and she decided at once to follow her dream. With difficulty she climbed the mountain, and everything was just as she had seen it during the night. The old woman received her kindly, showing her a chair where she was to sit.

　　"You must have met with misfortune," she said, "having sought out my lonely cottage."

　　the woman related with tears what had happened to her.

　 　"Be comforted," said the old woman. "I will help you. Here is a golden comb for you. Wait until the full moon has risen, then go to the millpond, sit down on the bank and comb your long black hair with this comb. When you are finished set it down on the bank, and you will see what will happen."

　　the woman returned home, but the time passed slowly for her until the full moon came. Finally the shining disk appeared in the heaven, and she went out to the millpond, sat down, and combed her long black hair with the golden comb. When she was finished she set it down at the water's edge. Before long there came a motion from beneath the water. A wave arose, rolled onto the bank, and carried the comb away with it. In not more time than it took for the comb to sink to the bottom, the surface of the water parted, and the huntsman's head emerged. He said nothing, only looking at his wife with sorrowful glances. That same instant a second wave rushed up and covered her husband's head. Then everything vanished. The millpond lay as peaceful as before, with only the face of the full moon shining on it.

　　Filled with sorrow, the woman returned, but she saw the old woman's cottage in a dream.

　 　the next morning she again set out and told her sorrows to the wise woman. The old woman gave her a golden flute, and said, "Wait until the full moon comes again, then take this flute. Sit on the bank and play a beautiful tune on it. When you are finished set it in the sand. Then you will see what will happen."

　　the woman did what the old woman had told her to do. No sooner was the flute lying in the sand than there was a motion from beneath the water, and a wave rushed up and carried the flute away with it. Immediately afterwards the water parted, and not only her husband's head, but half of his body emerged as well. He stretched out his arms longingly towards her, but a second wave rushed up, covered him, and pulled him down again.

　　"Oh, what does it help me," said the unhappy woman, "for me only to see my beloved and then to lose him again?"

　 　Despair filled her heart anew, but a dream led her a third time to the old woman's house. She went there, and the wise woman gave her a golden spinning wheel, comforted her, and said, "Everything is not yet fulfilled. Wait until the full moon comes, then take the spinning wheel, sit on the bank, and spin the spool full. When you have done this place the spinning wheel at the water's edge, and you will see what will happen."

　　the woman did everything exactly as she had been told. As soon as the full moon appeared she carried the golden spinning wheel to the bank, and span diligently until she was out of flax, and the spool was completely filled with thread. She had scarcely placed the wheel on the bank when there was a more violent motion than before from the water's depth. Then a powerful wave rushed up and carried the wheel away with it.

　　Immediately the head and the whole body of her husband emerged in a waterspout. He quickly jumped to the bank, caught his wife by the hand, and fled. They had gone only a little distance when the entire millpond arose with a terrible roar, then with terrible force streamed out across the countryside. The fugitives saw death before their eyes, when the wife in her terror called out for the old woman to help them, and they were instantly transformed, she into a toad, he into a frog.

　　the flood which had overtaken them could not destroy them, but it separated them and carried them far away. When the water receded and they both reached dry land again, their human forms returned again, but neither knew where the other one was. They found themselves among strange people who did not know their native land. High mountains and deep valleys lay between them. In order to earn a living, they both had to herd sheep. For long years they drove their flocks through fields and woods, and were filled with sorrow and longing.

　　One day when spring had once again broken forth on the earth, they both went out with their flocks, and as chance would have it, they moved toward one another. He saw a herd on a distant mountainside and drove his sheep toward it. They met in a valley but did not recognize one another, but they were happy that they were no longer so alone. From then on every day they drove their flocks next to each other. They did not speak much, but they did feel comforted.

　　One evening when the full moon was shining in the sky, and the sheep were already at rest, the shepherd took his flute out of his pocket and played on it a beautiful but sorrowful tune. When he had finished he saw that the shepherdess was crying bitterly.

　　"Why are you crying? he asked.

　 　"Oh," she answered, " the full moon was shining like this when I played that tune on the flute for the last time, and my beloved's head emerged out of the water."

the Crumbs on the Table

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

　 　One day the rooster said to his hens, "Go into the kitchen and pick up the breadcrumbs from the table. Our mistress has gone out visiting."

　　the hens said, "No, no, we won't go. If our mistress finds out, she will beat us."

　　then the rooster said, "She won't know anything about it. Come on. She never gives us anything good."

　　then the hens said once again, "No, no. Not ever. We are not going in there."

　 　But the rooster would give them no peace until they finally got onto the table and began to eat the breadcrumbs with all their might. Just then the mistress came home, quickly took hold of a stick, drove them off the table and gave them a good beating.

　　Once outside the house, the hens said to the rooster, "Don't you see, see, see, see, see, see, see?"

　　the rooster laughed and said, "Didn't I know it, know it, know it?"

　　And they went their way.

the Rose

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

　　Once there was a poor woman who had two children. The youngest one had to go into the forest every day to fetch wood. Once when he had gone a very long way to find wood， a child who was very little but very strong came to him and helped him gather the wood and carried it up to his house， but then in the wink of an eye he disappeared. The child told his mother about this， but she did not believe him. Finally the child brought a rose and said that the beautiful child had given it to him and that when the rose was in full blossom he would come again. The mother placed the rose into water. One morning the child did not get up； the mother went to his bed and found him lying there dead. On that same morning the rose came into full blossom.

the Twelve Apostles

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

　 　It was three hundred years before the birth of Christ the Lord, and there lived a mother who had twelve sons, but she was so poor and needy that she did not know how she would be able to keep them alive. She prayed daily to God that he might allow her sons to be together on earth with the promised savior. When her need became even GREater she sent them, one after the other, out into the world to seek something to eat.

　　the oldest one was named Peter. He went forth, and had already walked far, an entire day's journey, when he found himself in a GREat forest. He looked for a way out, but could not find one, going instead deeper and deeper into the woods. His hunger was so great that he could barely stand upright. He finally became so weak that he had to lie down, and he believed that he was near death.

　　Suddenly there stood before him a small boy. He glistened, and was as beautiful and as friendly as an angel. The child clapped his hands together, causing Peter to look up at him. Then he said, "Why are you sitting there so sadly?"

　　"Oh," answered Peter, "I am walking about in the world seeking something to eat, so that I might be able to see the promised savior, for that is my GREatest wish."

　　the child said, "Come with me. Your wish shall be fulfilled."

　 　He took poor Peter by the hand and led him between the cliffs to a large cave. They went inside, and everything glistened with gold, silver, and crystal. In the middle there stood twelve cradles next to each other.

　　then the little angel said, "Lie down in the first one, and sleep a little. I will rock you."

　　Peter did this, and the little angel sang to him and rocked him until he fell asleep.

　 　While he slept the second brother came to him. He too had been brought there by his guardian angel, and he too was rocked to sleep. In a like manner the others came as well, each in turn, until all twelve were lying there asleep in the golden cradles. There they slept for three hundred years until the night when the savior of the world was born. Then they awoke and were with him on earth, and they were called the twelve apostles.

HUMOR THEM!

One of the requirements of every commencement speaker is that they offer some advice. Well, get ready, It here it comes.

Soon you will be leaving the company of those who think they have all the answers-your professors, instructors and counselors-and going out into what we like to call the real world. In time you will meet up with other people who think they have all the answers. These people are called bosses. My advice is: humor them.

A little later you will meet additional people who think they have all the answers. These are called spouses. My advice is: humor them, too.

And if all goes well, in a few years you will meet still another group of people who think they have all the answers. These are called children. Humor them.

Life will go on, your children will grow up, go to school, and someday they could be taking part in a commencement ceremony just like this one. And who knows, the speaker responsible for handing out good advice might be you. Halfway through your speech, the graduate sitting next to your daughter will lean over and ask, "Who is that woman up there who thinks she has all the answers?"

Well, thanks to the sound advice you are hearing today and that I hope you will all pass on, she will be able to say, "That is my mother. Humor her."

It Takes a Special Man to

With Father's Day coming up, it's occurred to me that this country is missing a holiday, Stepfather's Day.

If anyone deserves a special day, it's these brave souls who've had to carve out a place for themselves in readymade families with the care and caution of a neurosurgeon.

That's why we have a Bobber's Day in our family. It's our own version of Stepfather's Day, named after Bob the stepfather. Here's why we celebrate it.

The Bobber has just moved in.

If you do anything to hurt my mother, I could put you in the hospital, you know," says the college boy, who is far bigger than the stepfather.

"I'll keep that in mind," says the Bobber.

"You're not going to start telling me what to do," says the junior-high schoolboy. "You aren't my father."

"I'll keep that in mind," says the Bobber.

The college boy is on the phone. His car has broken down forty-five miles from home.

"I'll be right there," says the Bobber.

The vice principal is on the phone. The junior schoolboy has been in a fight.

"I'll be right there," says the Bobber. oI need a tie to go with this shirt," says the college boy. Pick one out of my closet," says the Bobber.

"You need to get your ear pierced," says the junior schoolboy.

"You need to stop burping at the table," says the Bobber.

"I'll try," says the boy.

"I'll think about it," says the Bobber.

"What did you think of my date last night?" asks the college boy.

"Does it make a difference?" asks the Bobber.

"Yes," says the boy.

"I need to talk to you," says the junior schoolboy.

"I need to talk to you," says the Bobber.

"We should have a stepfather-stepson bonding experience," says the college boy.

"Doing what?" asks the Bobber.

"Changing the oil in my car," says the boy.

"I knew it," says the Bobber.

"We should have a stepfather-stepson bonding experience," says the junior schoolboy.

"Doing what?" asks the Bobber.

"Driving me to the movies," says the boy.

"I knew it," says the Bobber.

"If you drink, don't get in the car. Call me," says the Bobber.

"Thanks," says the college boy.

"If you drink, don't get in the car. Call me," says the college boy.

"Thanks," says the Bobber.

"What time do I have to be home?" asks the junior schoolboy.

"11:30," says the Bobber.

"Okay," says the boy.

"Don't ever do anything to hurt him," the college boy says to me. "We need him."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say.

And so we have Bobber's Day. The boys buy their stepfather a new toy they can all play with. The Bobber grills steaks. And I am awed by our great fortune that the Bobber earned his way into this family with such grace that it now seems he was always there.

A man-made disease

What factor helped to spread the disease of myxomatosis?

Anna Mae's Honor

Can it really be thirty years since I received the last of the payments from Annie Mae? I find myself thinking about them more often as I approach my sixtieth birthday. Something about closing the chapters on six decades and opening the pages of a new one makes one reflect.

Annie Mae’s life has deeply touched mine. I first met her at the home of my in-laws in 1959. I had moved with my husband and our one-year-old child to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, so my husband could complete his undergraduate work at the University of Alabama. My father-in-law was a professor of finance at the university, and my mother-in-law was active in university and community affairs. I vividly recall entering their driveway and being overwhelmed by the size of their home, the beauty of the furnishings, the manicured grounds and the pecan orchard.

Annie Mae was my in-law’s maid. She prepared and served meals in her quiet, gentle way and then returned to the kitchen to read her Bible while we ate. She was a dedicated and devoted Christian. To me, she reflected the fruit of the Holy Spirit as found in Galatians 5:22-23. I found this increasingly true even though I came to know her more by observation than by conversation.

My husband and I visited his parents frequently, and I became increasingly taken with this gentle, remarkable lady. Often when I saw her eating alone, reading her Bible, I wanted to sit down with her and just talk. However, whites did not do that with African Americans in the South in those days, and I conformed to the local practice -- though it conflicted with my Christian beliefs. I watched my son, Jimmy, play with her daughter, Jennifer Ann, who on occasion came to my in-laws’ place with her mother. The two children laughed and frolicked amid the trees in the pecan orchard. It was so easy for them.

In 1965, my world was suddenly uprooted. I found myself alone with two young sons when my husband wanted a divorce. I was fortunate to receive a full scholarship to the University of Connecticut in the field of special education. I decided to sell the furniture and household items and return to my home state with just our clothes.

Annie Mae asked if she could buy the boys’ beds. When I answered yes, she asked the price. “Thirty-five dollars,” I replied. Then, in her quiet way, she asked if I would sell them to her and trust her to send a little money each month. I admired her and knew her to be a woman of God, trustworthy and honest. The words of Proverbs 11 came to mind: “A good man [person] is guided…and directed by honesty…Be sure you know a person well before you vouch for his [or her] credit.”

Annie Mae was honest, and I knew her well. So I said, “Annie Mae, take them, they are yours.”

I returned to Connecticut with my two sons and found a chicken coop that had been converted into four apartments. My neighbors and I all became family as we struggled to earn our degrees. Faithfully each month, while my boys and I lived there, an envelope arrived from Annie Mae -- two dollars, three dollars, five dollars, always in cash. That became the surprise money for my boys; I used it to get them something special -- an ice cream, cookies, an outing. My sons were thrilled when Annie Mae’s money came, for they knew that a surprise would be coming their way.

A year passed. I earned my master of arts degree in special education and accepted a position as a special education teacher for the state of Connecticut. I had learned my lessons well. However, I was about to learn an even greater lesson, and Annie Mae would be the teacher.

Annie Mae’s last payment arrived about the time I completed my studies. Along with it came the following note:

Dear Mrs. Holladay,

I am sending you my last payment of three dollars to pay for the beds in full. I told my two sons that they could now go to the storage shed and put the beds together and sleep in them, for they are now paid for and rightfully ours. Thank you for your trust.

Love in Jesus,

Annie Mae

I could not believe my eyes. I read the note two or three times, my eyes filling with tears. Had I only known earlier, I would have said, “Use them now. Don’t wait until you pay for them.”

Those would have been my thoughts, yet Annie Mae had other thoughts -- thoughts the world could truly use. She sacrificed. She struggled. And finally, when the beds were truly hers, she let her sons, Paul and John, sleep in them. She was a living example of absolute honesty, the honesty that should characterize all who claim to be Christian.

This story has a postscript. After thirty years, I called directory assistance and found that Annie Mae still lived in Tuscaloosa. I called her, and later my second husband and I visited her, and I had that chat I never had thirty years ago. What a joy it was! Annie Mae had become a family and children’s worker for the state of Alabama and retired in May of 1996.

A Perfect Mistake

Grandpa Nybakken loved life -- especially when he could play a trick on somebody. At those times, his large Norwegian frame shook with laughter while he feigned innocent surprise, exclaiming, “Oh, forevermore!” But on a cold Saturday in downtown Chicago, Grandpa felt that God played a trick on him, and Grandpa wasn’t laughing.

Mother’s father worked as a carpenter. On this particular day, he was building some crates for the clothes his church was sending to an orphanage in China. On his way home, he reached into his shirt pocket to find his glasses, but they were gone. He remembered putting them there that morning, so he drove back to the church. His search proved fruitless.

When he mentally replayed his earlier actions, he realized what happened. The glasses had slipped out of his pocket unnoticed and fallen into one of the crates, which he had nailed shut. His brand new glasses were heading for China!

The Great Depression was at its height, and Grandpa had six children. He had spent twenty dollars for those glasses that very morning.

“It’s not fair,” he told God as he drove home in frustration. “I’ve been very faithful in giving of my time and money to your work, and now this.”

Several months later, the director of the orphanage was on furlough in the United States. He wanted to visit all the churches that supported him in China, so he came to speak on Sunday night at my grandfather’s small church in Chicago. Grandpa and his family sat in their customary seats among the sparse congregation.

“But most of all,” he said, “I must thank you for the glasses you sent last year. You see, the Communists had just swept through the orphanage, destroying everything, including my glasses. I was desperate.”

“Even if I had the money, there was simply no way of replacing those glasses. Along with not being able to see well, I experienced headaches every day, so my coworkers and I were much in prayer about this. Then your crates arrived. When my staffed removed the covers, they found a pair of glasses lying on top.”

The missionary paused long enough to let his words sink in. Then, still gripped with the wonder of it all, he continued: “Folks, when I tried on the glasses, it was as thought they had been custom-made just for me! I want to thank you for being a part of that!”

The people listened, happy for the miraculous glasses. But the missionary surely must have confused their church with another, they thought. There were no glasses on their list of items to be sent overseas.

But sitting quietly in the back, with tears streaming down his face, an ordinary carpenter realized the Master Carpenter had used him in an extraordinary way.

Grandpa's Valentine

I was the only family member living close by, so I received the initial call from the nursing home. Grandpa was failing rapidly. I should come. There was nothing to do but hold his hand. “I love you, Grandpa. Thank you for always being there for me.” And silently, I released him.

Memories...memories...six days a week, the farmer in the old blue shirt and bib overalls caring for those Hereford cattle he loved so much...on hot summer days lifting bales of hay from the wagon, plowing the soil, planting the corn and beans and harvesting them in the fall...always working from dawn to dusk. Survival demanded the work, work, work.

But on Sundays, after the morning chores were done, he put on his gray suit and hat. Grandma wore her wine-colored dress and the ivory beads, and they went to church. There was little other social life. Grandpa and Grandma were quiet, peaceful, unemotional people who every day did what they had to do. He was my grandpa -- he had been for 35 years. It was hard to picture him in any other role.

The nurse apologized for having to ask me so soon to please remove Grandpa’s things from the room. It would not take long. There wasn’t much. Then I found it in the top drawer of his nightstand. It looked like a very old handmade valentine. What must have been red paper at one time was a streaked faded pink. A piece of white paper had been glued to the center of the heart. On it, penned in Grandma’s handwriting, were these words:

TO LEE FROM HARRIET

With All My Love,

February 14, 1895

Are you alive? Real? Or are you the most beautiful dream that I have had in years? Are you an angel -- or a figment of my imagination? Someone I fabricated to fill the void? To soothe the pain? Where did you find the time to listen? How could you understand?

You made me laugh when my heart was crying. You took me dancing when I couldn’t take a step. You helped me set new goals when I was dying. You showed me dew drops and I had diamonds. You brought me wildflowers and I had orchids. You sang to me and angelic choirs burst forth in song. You held my hand and my whole being loved you. You gave me a ring and I belonged to you. I belonged to you and I have experienced all.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I read the words. I pictured the old couple I had always known. It’s difficult to imagine your grandparents in any other role than that. What I read was so very beautiful and sacred. Grandpa had kept it all those years. Now it is framed on my dresser, a treasured part of family history.

The gift of Lov

    Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

    Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I thought like a child; when I became and adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

DREAMS

Langston Hughes


Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a brokenwinged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.