Irene, Mildred, and Rhoda

Look back at the road you just traveled. There were times where people joined you on your journey. There were times when you stopped alongside the road for a rest and you found yourself renewed by the conversation you had with a fellow traveler. There were times when you had a great interaction, even when the interaction was done as you and the other were passing each other along the way.

Today, I made a new friend. Her name is Irene, and she quickly reminded me of other friends from journeys now behind me. Irene is a beautiful, old black woman that lives in Carbondale. I joined a few friends this afternoon in helping Irene plant a garden in her back yard.

Now, as many of you know, I have never been known to have a green thumb. I do know that the roots go into the ground and the green stuff generally remains above ground. That about covers the extent of my knowledge in gardening. I managed to help some today; but I must say that the whole point in going, I believe, was to meet Irene.

Irene has been slowed down by age; but a moment with her reveals that she is of sound mind. Irene loved the fact that we were helping her plant her garden. You could tell that she wasn't used to having people serve her. Every few moments she spoke up of various ways she wanted to wait on us...getting us chairs, wanting to get us lemonade, trying to match me up & marry me up with the single ladies present. She did specify that I could only pick one, though.

Irene reminds me of 2 friends that are now on the other side of life.

Mildred is an old friend of the family. She was a 2nd mother to my mother. Mildred lived in Oregon up until her death. I had the chance to visit her one last time shortly before she passed on. Mildred, at the age of 99, is one of the wisest persons I have ever known. Mildred is a woman of grace, humility, …and much like Irene… quick wit. I still refer to Mildred in the present tense because in my heart and in the realm of eternity, Mildred still very much exists. There is no doubt in my mind, right now Mildred is painting a beautiful portrait of her wonderful Savior. Thank you, God, for Mildred. I sure do miss her.

Miss Rhoda was the matriarch of the Bay Islands, Honduras. If you were on the Bay Islands and you didn’t go see Miss Rhoda, …well…you just did not do such a thing…no person of any kind of intelligence would. Miss Rhoda is another woman in which you naturally found yourself mute in fear you were going to miss what Miss Rhoda had to say. And believe me, Miss Rhoda always had something to say. Miss Rhoda was also a prayer warrior. She would sit & look out her window and she would just pray. To hear her words…to hear her words that she was speaking to her God as if her God was sitting right beside you there at the table…to hear her words felt almost like you were eavesdropping on a sweet conversation between a daughter and her loving Father. Before you left Miss Rhoda, you were always blessed by her praying for you. Some people have had Mother Teresa pray for them. I had Miss Rhoda pray for me. Her prayer, like her, was beautiful. Her prayer, like her, still lives on in so many ways. Thank you, God, for Miss Rhoda. I sure do miss her.

I could go on and on and on. God has blessed me, indeed, with such amazing women. I’m your typical young guy, who runs away from the thought of hanging out with old people. They’re too slow, too stuck in their ways, have too much hair growing in odd places, they smell too much like Ben Gay & moth balls, etc. Yet, every time I find myself the listening ear to a member of the older generation, I have trouble pulling myself away.