An open letter to Betty

Dear Betty:

In a world where I never manage to come visit as often as I would like, and never remember to call on important or even mundane occasions, I wanted to write you a letter about how much you mean to me and my family. I will try to not be overly sentimental--but I do tend to either be unsentimental or too sentimental about things. I have not found a good middle ground for myself in the area of sentiment--and perhaps never will. Anyway, I digress--on to the letter:

Numerous times, sitting at your kitchen table, you have commented to me that you are so glad that we feel comfortable coming to your house. My constant reply is that you make it such a comfortable place to be. I am not sure exactly how you do that, but I hope to discover the secret by the time I have grandchildren--if I am lucky enough to reach that point in life. You are one of the best things that my marriage brought into my life.

I have tried to capture what it is that makes us so look forward to visiting you, and have been unable to pinpoint what exactly makes your home such a comfortable place for us to be.

It is not that you are uncritical of the various people that pass through your home. I have certainly been the recipient of well meant but nonetheless unwelcome advice over the years. Still, your personality and manner of delivery communicates a blanket acceptance of who I am and how I feel. You are not perfect in this--no one could be--but I am always able to feel that acceptance from your heart even when it is not fully reflected in your words.

It is not that you have rules that are the same as the rules at our house. (I certainly pay a lot more attention to where my elbows are while eating meals with you than I do anywhere else.) It is not my favorite parts of the town--the shops I like, the best ice cream, the lovely houses to see on walks. It is not even the guest room--as much as I sleep so well in that space.

It may be the companionable quiet while reading the papers, the family history visible in the decorations, or our shared time together while I was still in classes. But, I really think it is just you.

There are two examples that come to mind when I try to explain something about you to others. One is a comment you made about a church service that included a Shaker dance performance. You said that you did not really think it was appropriate, but you also acknowledged that other people clearly enjoyed it and it seemed to be good for the church as a whole, so you simply said a prayer in your pew. I can only imagine the harmony that would exist in churches--and probably a lot of other places--if we could all use that kind of attitude towards different avenues of expression.

The other is a comment you made to me, after Gretchen called us to tell us about her first pregnancy. I had some guilt over the uncharitable thoughts mixed in with my joy for her and Chris and the anticipation of the child to come. The next morning, over breakfast, you asked if I was at all angry, since my own pregnancy limelight would now be shared. I have often wondered if the question was asked innocently or if you read my thoughts. Regardless, the question validated that small part of my overall reaction to the news, relieved the guilt, and enabled me to put the anger to bed.

There are other 'elements of you' that I admire and hope to better reflect in my own life: the way you open your home and your life to those in need, your graciousness in providing assistance in different ways to different people, your strength in finding new paths for yourself as life brought change, your connectedness to family and friends, your desire to be informed and always learning, and numerous other things that I am either forgetting to mention or cannot quite put into words. Your often-used phrase in response to expressed appreciation or accolade is that you were glad you were able to do it.

To have my grandmother (since we decided in-law just did not really apply a generation removed) also be one of my best friends is something I cherish. When I came up to stay with you after your recent surgery, I was overjoyed to be able to use your own phrase in response to your thanks--and to mean every word of it. I was simply glad to have been able to do it.

I am, and will always be, grateful for your presence in my life.

Sincerely and with great love,

Lisa

PS for Betty: I hope that you do not mind too much that I decided to also put this letter on my blog as an open letter to you.

PS for the blog readers who will care: This has been sent in the old-fashioned mail to Betty.

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