It was at this church that I met this young mom. She had three children: a girl and two boys. She was always busy with those children but she was always calm. Once in a while, I would run into her because my parents were in a Bible study or some meeting.
I remember this mom because she always had a kind face. She never seemed flustered. Her daughter, who was the oldest, always had some type of caste on. She had some type of disorder that caused her bones to break easily. I remember the little girl limping around with her caste(s).
One day, this mom gave me a small bag of candy. I remember. I felt so happy that she singled me out and gave it to me. Back then, people didn't have bags of candy at home. You didn't buy a container of 40 packs of candy at Costco. You bought one bag at a time. That candy was a treasure to me. I think that I might have even kept the wrapper for a while, just to remember.
My mind gets foggy, but then I heard that that mom was sick. Very sick. And then she was gone. She had died, leaving her husband and three young children. I remember being really sad and remembering how kind she had been to me.
I never forgot about her.
Over the years, I've asked my mom about the father and children. I heard that he became a pastor and never remarried. The children are all grown up now. I've wanted to write to them. I've wanted to paint a beautiful picture of their mom. I'm not even sure if they have any recollection of their mom. They were so young.
Her smile. Her kindness. Her peaceful and calm face.
I still remember her.