Pie a Day Give Away

A few days ago my friend Delia celebrated a birthday. Unfortunately, I was not available to attend Delia’s birthday celebration… but still, I am thrilled to be a part of Delia’s life. Delia is a good mother, and I think that I am one as well. We both love our children and would do anything we could to make sure that our children had the best chance of succeeding.

Tonight I brought Delia a warm Apple Pie to acknowledge all that she has done for her children… and also to recognize all that she has done for me. I am most appreciative of her efforts on my behalf.

Happy Birthday Delia… and many happy returns of the day!

I have a friend who has been living on the streets for years. How he does it, I can’t really imagine. I live in a world of clean sheets, warm showers and a refrigerator full of food. My home is not a mansion, but it is a safe, warm place where I can invite friends in or close out the world. What luxury.

This man survives on the kindness of strangers. But I think many people help him because he is not really that different from them. And when we see someone like us that needs help, we are often willing to offer assistance, perhaps because we hope that if we were in need, someone would help us.

This reminds me of a children’s story about a devout man who was told that God was going to visit him at his home. All day the man prepared for the visit by cleaning, cooking, etc. That evening the man sat and patiently waited for God to arrive. There came a knock on the door and a poor beggar asked for a bit of food. The man hesitated, for the feast he had prepared was for God, but then he invited the man in and fed him. When he was full, the poor man thanked him and left. The devout man waited again, and there was another knock on the door. This time there was a man in need of warm clothing. The devout man had fashioned a fine coat as a gift to God, but since God had not arrived, he gave it to the one in need at his door instead. Finally, as the man was about to go to bed, there was another knock at the door. Perhaps it was the lord at last? But no, it was another traveler in need of a place to sleep. The devout man brought the traveler in and gave him a place to rest his head and headed to bed.

Before retiring, the devout man was disappointed and so he prayed and asked God why he had not come to his home. As you probably have guessed, he heard these words, ” But I did visit you tonight. I came first as the beggar, and you fed me. Then I came needing clothing and you gave me a warm garment. Lastly, I came as a traveler in need of rest and you offered me a place to sleep.” Such a simple story, but such a compelling message.

Tonight I made a pumpkin pie – to bring to my friend and asked him who he would give it to if he had the chance. Immediately, he told me about a young lady who has been kind to him and so together we went to her and presented the pie. She was delighted, as was he for the opportunity to give a gift. And all I had to do to be a part of it all was to make the pie .

Merry is the name of a woman I met a long time ago. She was a friend of a friend and we met at a dinner party. Somehow I started to tell her about my nephew and Merry listened to my problem and then she asked questions about what was going on with him and eventually offered a few suggestions to me. It stayed with me that Merry had a way with people.

I don’t recall if it was that same night, or some time after, that I found out a story about Merry. This is what I remember about it… Merry was working as a social worker and one of her clients was a single mother and she was dying… but she also had 4 kids. Merry drove to the lady’s house one day and saw those kids and knew the only way to help them was to take them home. And – I love this part – she called her husband and told him that she was bringing this children home… and her husband did not argue.

Merry and her husband have their own “biological” children… but they have also been parents to dozens of other kids. Did you see that word back there? Dozens!!! I ask you, who can do that? Not your average individuals… but these folks have made it look easy. I am not a close friend but I am a friend in awe of them for what they have done.

Here is my favorite story about Merry. Years ago, my son was in middle school and he came to me with a request for something that I could not say yes to. I struggled with how to answer him and suddenly Merry popped into my head. I called her immediately and she gave me this suggestion. Each time my son asked his question, I was to answer, “Thank you for asking me so nicely. My answer is no, but you may ask me again.” And when he asked again, I was to say the same thing again. It was brilliant because I was not giving reasons for why he could not do (whatever it was). And it worked like a charm. My son asked me “the question” and I gave him Merry’s response. He looked confused, and asked again. And again, I gave him Merry’s response. After the third time, he gave up. He was exasperated but could not fight with me because I had not given him anything to contest. I guess after raising a few dozen kids you learn tricks like this!

I saw Merry today and mentioned that I had been thinking about her recently. I’d been thinking that she was a perfect pie recipient because she had given me a great tool during a challenging parenting moment. Tonight I brought her a warm Apple Pie to thank her for her amazing spirit and for her ability to share her love with so many children… I am sure that she has been a gift to them all.

Today is the day that my Mother was born. She would have been 76 years old today, but unfortunately she died almost 23 years ago, when my daughter was just three months old. That event is still hard to fathom all these years later.

When my daughter was born, my Mom and Dad came to Ashland to see their new grand baby. And just a few months later, I flew to New York to see my parents for Christmas. My Mother, who had been living with cancer for many years, had just been diagnosed with bone cancer. She did not have much of a chance but I could not see that at the time.

When I was with her, I wanted so much to help her; to be useful. I remember one idea that I thought would help her – “Let me update your address book.” She must have thought that I was crazy (or in denial) – for she (probably) knew that she wouldn’t be needing that address book much longer.

But because I wanted to help, I rewrote and corrected the addresses of her friends and neighbors. I cleaned out her cupboards and straightened out her linen closet. Because these were things that I could do… because against the cancer that was taking her from me I was helpless.

One afternoon, my Mom asked me to get her jewelry box. I brought it to her and she handed me the gold earrings that I had bought for her when I was in Italy and also the coral necklace that I bought her when I went to Hawaii. She told me, “I want you to have these.” “No Mom”, I said, “these are for you… I gave them to you.” And my Mom knew what to say next, “Please hold them for me.” How could I deny her this? “Okay Mom. I will keep them for you.” But I didn’t really grasp what she was doing. Or maybe I refused to see it.

Two weeks after I left New York my sister called to say that my mother was dying and I needed to get home right away. I got on a plane with my baby that night and arrived in New York early the next morning. Unfortunately, by the time my plane landed, my Mom had passed away.

And I have missed her ever since that day. I have wanted to ask her so many questions, I have wanted to say that I understand at last what she was trying to tell me, I have wanted to have her meet my children.

In so many ways, I feel that I am like my Mother. I would do almost anything for my children or a friend in need, I am brought to tears quite easily, and I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve.

Today I remembered that a young lady had written to me asking “if I ever needed a pie recipient” would I please consider bringing one to her Mom? And so today, in honor of my Mom, I brought a Pecan Pie to this young lady’s mother.

One last thought. There is a scene towards the end of the movie, “Sixth Sense” where the little boy (who sees dead people) is sitting in the back of the car as his mother is driving home. The boy is trying to explain to his Mom that he has been talking to his (dead) Grandma. He tells her that Grandma has told him the answer to the question that his Mom asks when she visits her grave. The mother asks, what is the answer? And he tells her “everyday”… and then he asks, “What is the question?” And the Mom tells him (that she asks her Mom), “Do I make you proud?” And I would be thrilled if my Mom feels the same way.