In 1960, when I was five years old going on six, my mom underwent open heart surgery to repair two holes in her heart that should have closed before she was born. Doing surgery of that magnitude at that time was an uncharted frontier. Since my mom’s initial recovery would take at least six months, my sister, brother, and I were farmed out to different relatives. Happily, I ended up with my Uncle Ted and Aunt Wilma.
In spite of the upheaval of not having my mom and dad around, living with my aunt and uncle was a Godsend. My aunt, with much tenderness, loved on me with REAL chocolate milk that came premixed in a glass bottle—to a little girl, the best in the world—and homemade french toast, the likes of which I had never had before. And my uncle—school teacher, artist, friend—parented me with gentleness and soft-spoken respect, both, which fifty-eight years later, still resonate deeply in my heart and life.
It’s amazing the impact we have on each other. Whether it’s six months or six seconds, days or years, we all unknowingly leave the imprint of ourselves on someone else. For good or bad we are a walking epitaph of one another, paying it forward whether we mean to or not. A smile given at the right moment can give a much needed lift. A disgruntled look—even an unintended one—can create such uneasiness that everything following seems to come under a gray cloud.
Maybe that’s one of the myriad of reasons why Jesus tells us the second greatest commandment is to love our neighbor as ourselves (Mark 12:31). For if we do, we automatically will do, be, and love others the way we wish they would love on us in return (Matthew 7:12).
My Uncle Ted had no idea of how living with him and Aunt Wilma forever changed me. For even though he was an adult and I was but a child, his life poured respect and love into mine. He treated me as if I was precious beyond compare, allowing me the dignity to be who God meant for me to be.
Uncle Ted passed away August 29 of this year. Just knowing he is no longer on this earth, leaves all who knew him missing a piece of their heart. Yet, even so, his dying is a signpost of hope. For he is still giving of himself through the life of each person he cared for while he was here. For we remember, hold onto, and hopefully pass along to someone else how he loved, how he lived in humbleness of heart, and how he cherished each person God brought into his life.
I’m forever grateful.
Kimberly
“Love is very patient and kind, never jealous or envious, never boastful or proud, never haughty or selfish or rude. Love does not demand its own way. It is not irritable or touchy. It does not hold grudges and will hardly even notice when others do it wrong. It is never glad about injustice, but rejoices when truth wins out. If you love someone, you will be loyal to him no matter what the cost. You will always believe in him, always expect the best of him, and always stand your ground in defending him….There are three things that remain—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-7, 13 LB
What a beautifully written post. You so eloquently captured the essence of my dad’s spirit and also the sorrow I feel in his absence. Thank you. ❤️