Call Her, Mrs. Jones

I dedicate this post to Mrs. Jones - my beloved 95-year-old friend.

I remember the day my mom asked me to accompany a sister from church to visit the seniors within our community. I was hesitant at first, because what teenage girl spends her day visiting older people? I eventually agreed, and decided to go along with the adventure. Ironically enough, we visited the home of a lady whom I was very fearful of as a child. I didn’t know at the time she had a stroke which made her unable to speak, and paralyzed one side of her body. As we walked into her bedroom that day, I was overcome with fear. During our visit, the sister read a passage from the Bible to her, and prayed before we moved on to the next home.

That experience taught me about the cruelty she experienced at the hands of many, and the rumours that circulated in our community were not true. At the end of my first visit, I had a complete change of heart and wanted to go back - which I eventually did. The more we visited her, the less fearful I became, and the more I had compassion toward her. Those visitations eventually became something I looked forward to every Tuesday, and as the weeks progressed, my Tuesday visitations extended to Sundays, when I brought lunches for them at their homes. I enjoyed visiting and serving the elderly in my community, as it brought me a sense of fulfilment. I believe this sense of fulfilment is what drew me to this warm, kindhearted and patient woman - Mrs. Jones.

I met Mrs. Jones and her late husband about thirteen years ago, while working as a manager at Sears. I vividly remember the day I first saw them. I was walking through the Men’s Department, when I saw these two, adorable seniors browsing through the pants rack. Curious, I went over to see what the dispute was about and offered my assistance. She mentioned that her husband needed a new pair of jeans, to which he replied, “I told you, I don’t need any jeans.” Once she spoke, I was drawn to the softness of her voice, which caused me to jokingly say to him, “oh, stop giving her a hard time!” Eventually, she won, because we both convinced him to purchase the jeans. Who knew that a dispute over a pair of jeans would be the start of a beautiful friendship! We exchanged names and numbers, and throughout my employment, they’d frequently visit me. When she discovered I changed departments, she even made her way up to the third floor just to say hello. Besides her soft voice, I was drawn to her quiet, humble demeanour. I say humble, because although I knew her sons worked as well-known media broadcasters, she never mentioned it. I asked why she never disclosed her sons’ professions, to which she replied, “Debbie, I love what they do, but never feel I have to brag about them, that’s just not me.” Those were some wise nuggets I received. Eventually, it was her husband who took the pictures out of his wallet and showed them to me. He was such a proud dad!

Once my workplace closed down, our relationship shifted from the store to the phone. I promised to bring my family to visit, but unfortunately, Mr. Jones passed away two years before that happened (you can read about him in my post, We can be here today, and gone tomorrow). Since the passing of her husband, our relationship has grown much deeper, as we often spend hours on the phone chatting with each other. Although she’s in her nineties and I’m in my fifties, she shows me a deep level of respect, and I do the same. Over the course of our numerous conversations, she’s shared several things with me, from her experience coming to Canada in the 1950's, the racism she encountered, to the countless jobs she was turned down for due to the colour of her skin. Despite the hardships, she remained determined and hopeful to make something meaningful of her life in this new, big country she now called home.

Mrs. Jones, today I put my thoughts into writing to let you know how much I love and appreciate you. You have become like a mother to me, and I’m deeply encouraged by your legacy. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being so transparent, vulnerable and willing to share your heart with me. Thank you for being an encouraging mother figure in my life. Many people wait until someone passes away to pay tribute to them, but I choose to honour you today. I choose to let you know you hold a very special place in my heart. Looking back, my mom didn’t know that she was planting a seed in my heart for seniors when she sent me off that evening, but I’m certainly thankful she did! The love I have for seniors has truly blossomed into something beautiful.

I once heard the saying, “some people come into your life for a season, a reason or a lifetime.” Whatever the reason, or if it’s just for a season - I’m grateful to God for you, Mrs. Jones.

“Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1‬:‭27‬ ‭NLT‬‬