A Flowered Mailbox ~ Messages To Heaven
Posted by Dr. Judy at 3:00 am
© 2010 Dr. Judy Krings
I am shedding tears as I write. Don’t ever think that you don’t matter. You always do. And sometime you find it out in the midst of someone else’s sorrow.
My husband, Ken, called me to tell me that he wanted to make my day. He knew I had a royal go-around this a.m. with multiple taxing telephone calls and hassles with insurance companies. My curious optimism kicked in, and I immediately thought, “Great!” Good news.
Then in his serious deep voice, Ken quietly told me a young man, Aaron, who works in his plant, had recently lost his lovely talented artist mother, Elizabeth. Aaron told Ken she took great joy in listening to my radio shows. I was so honored and grateful. To know in his hour of grief, he shared his story. How sweet and generously thoughtful.
I am a whirling dervish and rarely take time to pause. But I did today. I said a prayer of thanks and appreciation and aimed it up above. Angels hear, you know. Aaron’s sincerity blessed my day. In his sorrow, he adds to my joy. So humbling.
Now came the heart-sparking surprise. My connection with his mom. “OMG! I remember!” Chills of delight and sadness wove magic memories coursing through my psyche. A smile warmed my face. I had known his Mom as Beth, not Elizabeth. Her skillful artistry graces my home. She painted the most amazing faux marble in my bathroom and bedroom. My house is a patchwork piece in her loving creative legacy.
Unbeknownst to me, Beth, adored my beloved mailbox. Everyone knows my house. “It’s the one with the jaunty, sun-flowered, corn-blue mailbox.” Like Aaron’s Mom, unique and special.
After the snow plow knocked it down and ruined it, I had another one painted. No way I could part with the old twisted, injured one. I recycled it. It sits in all its glory under a huge tree. Its “mail”? Colorful pansies or orange and yellow marigolds merrily sneaking out the door. No postage necessary.
Yes, my appreciation of her beauty and excellence.
Lovely, but the break-my-heart moment was yet to come. Ken told me that Aaron told him every time he goes past our mailbox, he smiles and thinks of his Mom. Now, so will I.
And who said you can’t name a mailbox?
“BB” for Beautiful Beth.
This one is for you, Beth. Maybe you are the first one to have a mailbox named after you. It’s colorful hues honor your life, talent and generosity.
Thanks to you, too, Aaron, for sharing your story and your love.
