I haven’t written much about my
wife of 26 years; so this is a bit of catch up,
Della was special from birth. Born
of a single parent and reared by her grandmother they often walked from south
hill in Red Deer, Alberta to the bottom of north hill to attend church. Della
grew up a very hard working girl. I’m sure it came from the woman she called
mother. Mom Lyon still had the corner store when Della was small. Eventually
the store became her living room. Mom worked her entire life to feed and cloth
her small family. When her husband
was around, he was not involved much in Della’s life.
Della worked just as hard as mom.
As a kid, she had a paper route on South Hill that she shared with her older
brother Leroy. As a teen she worked at a corner store near the high school owned
by the Sawyers.
 |
| On a bight and windy day |
She was a teen model for Eaton’s
in Red Deer and had the bearing and posture of one walking the runway. She
always stood with that model stance, her right foot at a near right angle and
her left foot pointed ahead and slightly left. If standing for any length of
time her hands would be lightly clasp in front. She had a huge smile that her
eyes to brighten and twinkle while showing off her bright white teeth. She
often wore an artificial flower or pin near her neck. Her shoulder length
sandy-blond hair was wavy.
It was her smile and gentle ways
what attracted people. The corners of her eyes would wrinkle and it seemed to
cause them to twinkle. She would light up with a sense of genuine love
emanating. Between the two of us, she had the memory. I could never keep the
birthdays straight between my son and her mother – one day apart. Who was
first?
The college and church teaching of
“helpmate” created a problem for me. I expected, no almost demanded, she “help
me.” It took the birth of our son for me to free her to be herself and use her
gifts in the way God designed for her. She certainly was help, but was most at
ease entertaining and welcoming people into our home.
Over all our years together, I
would think thousands had Sunday dinner with us. We got to know people there.
We made real connections there. We befriended people there. She wanted youth in
our home. If I didn’t plan having them enough, she asked when they would come
next? She was warm, friendly and comforting. Her manner and approach gradually
turned into a significant ministry to girls and women.
I learned after her death how
encouraging she was with letters. As we gained more experience, she had a
special heart for young women beginning ministry.
I learned the importance of her at
my side when greeting people after church. I learned it from Pastor Boldt.
Walter and Doris already had a well-oiled system. As people approached them she
told him their names. He was no better at names than I. Della was my Doris. She
could do the same for me.
Our relationship was saved with
the birth of our son. It did not eliminate our individual quirks, but we began
to made the two me’s a ”WE.” I doubt I, or for matter many others, thought it
would be as hard as it was. I was one selfish guy and she was one generous
woman. The merging of our gifts and talents began in our home and then slowly
moved to the public arena.
She never thought of herself as
talented, but I did, especially in the kitchen. She was a wonderful cook. It
was her center of operation. As guests arrived, I greeted and got them settled
and then she would make an appearance until something needed her attention back
in control central. Before they arrived, I was to straighten the room, set the
table, arrange the centerpiece and make the entertainment area look good. After
they left I was to clear everything to the kitchen and we did the dishes. She
could not go to bed until everything was put away. Boy have I changed.
The kitchen was also our greatest
and longest point of contention. When she worked, she opened drawers and cabinet
doors and left them open if she thought she would be going in there again. I
ran into them quit often. I complained – loudly and often. It took years for us
to work this out. First I learned to accept that the kitchen was her domain and
I was simply a guest, or part-time employee. I was permitted in, but had no
authority. In fact, I was wanted in for her useful purpose. She continued to
open cupboards and drawers and I was eventually permitted to close them when I
entered. All this was without rancor. Things opened and closed quite often.
We both had a similar quirk. We
were stackers and needed a place near the entry where we could stack things we
had just brought in. While living next door to the church, the piling was
everywhere. We had no system yet. On Osler Street it became the bedroom
dresser. On Preston, there was a small 12-inch wide counter just inside the
kitchen and near enough to the front door that it received our stacks.
Strangely, we never discussed where the stacks would go and never mixed our
stacks, but there was agreement, always. Because we entertained so often,
usually every week, the stacks disappeared regularly. They were not permitted
to exist when company came.
The other main point of contention
was household repairs. Della grew up with a father who could repair most
anything. She married a guy paranoid about repairs. He didn’t know how, had no
sense that he would succeed, and was embarrassed to try. As a result needed
repairs often sat still needing work for way too long. I was trying to get up
the courage to attempt the job. At least that was my excuse. Unfortunately, we
rarely had the income to hire help, so I needed to learn. It took years to
learn to handle those things with ease. She learned patience and I learned
promptness.
We managed very well when finally becoming
“WE” until a period in Canby, OR. That is a much later story.
No comments:
Post a Comment