“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
Yesterday was the kind of day that weighs heavily on you. I looked around at my beautiful house that Gene and I built four years ago. Everything is designed and arranged specifically for my collections and prized family antiques. Bless him, he unselfishly did so because while he had built other new homes in his earlier days, it was my first and only venture into home construction.
We had not done a lot of decorating for our first Christmases, but three years ago, when we realized my health was not to be what it had been, we determined to celebrate every holiday. We began with Halloween, and Cal, our skeleton came here to live.
We continued at Christmas to buy a new pre-lit tree, even though I had sworn to only have live trees. We chose one with multi-colored lights because while I think the white or clear lights which are now fashionable are pretty, to me, a Christmas tree must have colored lights. We splurged on all new Christopher Radko ornaments. We bought paintings of Santa and I added eight new Santas to my collection started years ago.
Anyway, as I sat here alone I began to get teary as you will when you grieve. I looked at the decorations we had chosen. I didn't put up the tree or the Dickens village, but almost everything else is arranged on table tops and mantel. It's hard not having someone to share this with.
I glanced heavenward, as I do frequently now, and once again asked God to get me through this first Christmas holiday with no husband or family. I silently implored Gene, if he could hear me, to help me out. And they heard me, because here's what followed.
In my church, Scottsboro First Methodist, are a core group of women who feel a kind of responsibility for all the rest of us. We call them the United Methodist Women. But they are angels unawares. And they were the answer to my prayer.
Outside my front door was a cheery bag of Christmas! Unmistakably festive, it was tied up with a beautiful red and green bow, spangled with glitter. In the middle of the bow was tied a candy cane. There was a pretty card with a kind message of hope. There were individual treat bags of cookies, cake and candy. The cellophane bags containing the goodies were festooned with holiday pictures of wreaths and such, each tied up with a ribbon bow. There was a cozy, warm throw like you enjoy spreading over you on the couch as you watch television at night. In short, much thought and effort had gone into making each detail just right. And I noticed. And appreciated. And thanked God.
Mary K. Carlton, Nancy Hodges, and Glenda Beard plus many others are making sure folks like me aren't forgotten. They did it at Thanksgiving. They send cards throughout the year. They spend time and effort to remind me I'm not alone. These women are remembering those who need caring the most. And they are making a difference. Yesterday, they made a difference for me. Because Christmas alone is the hardest part yet.
So I write this to thank them today, because they deserve recognition, and to know their efforts are appreciated. Because remembering ladies like our UMW and singing their praises is always the right thing to do.
And, by the way, ladies. I know God and Gene Reed thank you too.
God bless the angels unawares.
