It’s hard to imagine that summertime is almost half over, but July bears down on us with blazing hot sun and zucchini almost the size of a baseball bat if it’s not picked for a couple of days. Bruce, my first husband, wanted our zucchini to get as big as possible one year. It was a long time ago, and money was like a trickle from a well going dry, so our garden was our main source of food. Among the tomatoes, green beans, corn, and a sampling of every other vegetable one could grow in northern Indiana lurked at least twenty zucchini plants. And having never grown them before, Bruce figured the bigger the zucchini—the smaller our grocery bill. But you and I know there’s only so much I could do with them. I froze some; I made an awful zucchini pie which was supposed to taste like apple pie; I canned jars and jars of Bread & Butter zucchini pickles; and I created a recipe that made 12-16 loaves of zucchini bread at a time—I called it “Zany Zucchini Bread!”
One day, out in that hot July sun, picking those gigantic zucchini, I’d finally had enough, and—oops! Oh no!—I “accidentally” pulled the whole plant out! Bruce thought there was a mysterious zucchini blight because a few other plants also turned yellow and wilted in the weeks that followed. We finally put a sign out at the end of our driveway with brown grocery bags full of the things—“Free Zucchini!” Most cars broke the speed limit at the sight of it, but one or two stopped to grab some bounty.
I laugh about it now, but the heat and the zucchini almost overwhelmed me that summer; not to mention I was in the morning-sickness stage of pregnancy, and I had a two-year-old with chickenpox.
Recently I read, “…difficulties don’t determine who we are. Rather, they reveal who we are…the same heat that softens butter can make mud hard as a brick. It all depends on how the thing being heated responds. The same with the human heart. Difficulties can soften one heart and harden another.” (Today’s Turning Point with Dr. David Jeremiah, May 18, 2021, emphasis mine).
I’ve often seen difficulties reveal a soft, sweet side, or a strong, brick side to folks, haven’t you? (Looking at myself, I must confess an overloaded hormonal side, too!). Whatever the case may be, we all can use some help when the heat of hard times comes. Some widowed readers wrote in to share a few things with me over the past few months about how people helped them through the difficulties.
“Like the cold of snow in time of harvest is a faithful messenger to those who send him, for he refreshes the soul of his masters.” Proverbs 25:13 (NKJV)
These examples are outside of the tremendous community efforts that abound immediately at the word of death and around the Amish funeral. Those efforts simply cannot be surpassed or added to. Instead, these refreshing kindnesses followed in the weeks and months after.
Refreshing Notes and Cell Phone Texts
One thing very nice about notes and texts is that the person receiving them may open them whenever they are in a good mood to do so. They may also re-read them whenever they want. It’s a little gift that keeps on giving.
“A sympathy card or note is never late,” wrote one reader to me. “Better to receive a card ‘late,’ than to never hear from someone at all,” she added.
“My out-of-state-sister sent me note cards every week for many months, and that was very special to me,” wrote another friend.
I could sense the special joy in this reader’s note: “The other day I got a friendly letter from the youngest married lady in our church just to wish me a ‘Happy Spring Day.’ I’ve hardly ever gotten to talk to her as I’m one of the oldest, and she the youngest—I felt so unworthy. Such things make me give thanks aloud to God above! Oh! I have so many blessings, but how we need the support of the church and these dear friends!”
Refreshing Talks
A human voice, too, refreshes difficult days in ways beyond measure.
Birds chirp and chatter all day long, but if you live by yourself or with other quiet people, sometimes you wish for the walls to talk—just for some conversation! Visitors and their conversations are refreshing, and kind voices give uplifting sounds of life and hope.
Phone calls bridge the distance between friends and loved ones. “My sister-in-law called every day after the funeral. Same time, every morning. She did this for a month or two. She chatted about daily, normal stuff, and all I did was listen. Nothing about my life was normal, and it was good to hear that her part of the world, anyway, was still regular. She gave me something to hang on to.”
“A pastor’s wife called me and prayed for me. I was a little uncomfortable, and I think she was too. She only prayed a couple of sentences, but when she said ‘Amen,’ I found it really meant a lot to me.”
“When I became a widow, a dear church friend called me once a week just to talk and encourage me in the way. That meant so much,” a reader wrote in to share from her heart.
A Refreshing Presence
There are times when the most important thing we can do is to simply sit with a person. Of course we feel this is never enough; we might feel uncomfortable with times of silence. We might feel inadequate or sad if we haven’t come up with the solution to their problem. Sometimes if the person cannot acknowledge our presence—perhaps they are too ill to know we’re in the room—we might feel like it’s a waste of our time. But whenever you visit someone who is suffering a difficulty, it can become a sacred and holy time of ministry; you will know its outcome in Heaven.
“I visited a church friend who was dying of cancer. It was very difficult for me; I didn’t feel like I was the encourager she had been to me when I faced a hard time. But I did call often, and brought her homemade soup and stayed alert to her needs.”
I love how this friend called often and stayed alert to her friend’s needs. When visiting, sometimes it helps to bring something good to eat like homemade soup or a loaf of delicious Zany Zucchini Bread! Or read aloud a psalm, a chapter of a book, or even a Plain Value magazine article, depending on their interests and comfort level.
Giving a little bit of your presence with acts of kindness in words and deeds will be as refreshing as “the cold of snow in time of harvest.” But—please, I say this from experience, leave all overgrown zucchini with someone who doesn’t have any difficulties.
Until next month,
ferree
To learn more about widowhood, order a copy of “Postcards from the Widows’ Path – Gleaning Hope and Purpose from the Book of Ruth.” It’s a gentle, biblical guide for widows that has many saying, “This is the best I’ve ever read!”