Step Eighty-Five: Hope Offering

Dear Readers,

An excerpt of my thoughts tonight...

In seventh grade, I began volunteering with the youth group to regularly visit an old folks home and paint the nails of the elderly women. I walked away from the three years I spent doing it with laughter, tears, and plenty of stories. Yet there was one lady who shaped my views on age and “growing up” in a tremendous way – Miss Daisy. A southern bell to the core of her, she may have gained a few years but that only served to add some flavor.

My first impression of Miss Daisy was a remarkable one as she cha-cha-ed her way into our room, highly decorated walker or not. If this had not been incredible enough, as she sat down across from me she looked me in the eye and demanded, “What’s the wildest color you have?” Attempting to be mature, I calmly pulled out the popular array of hues in reds and pinks. As I set them before her, I’ll be darned if this sweet 92 year old woman didn’t give me the best stink eye I’ve ever seen. Reaching across me, she pulled from the cart the most obnoxious neon orange, setting it silently before me. As I stared flabbergasted by her request, she started laughing. Unsure of whether I was being mocked or not, I solemnly picked up the color and turned it over in my hand. Was it even legal for someone over the age of 60 to wear nail polish in such bright colors? When she had collected herself, she said, “Close your mouth, child, it’s better than it looks.”

I spent 3 years “painting” Daisy’s nails. Eventually, the youth group stopped going but I remained, often only to visit Daisy. We would sit and talk. She would affectionately call me her “favorite grandchild.” Even as our love grew, her health deteriorated. It did not seem fair, at the time, to love someone so close to death, to love knowing they would soon be gone. At our second to last visit, between great heaving sobs I told her so. In a gentle whisper she murmured, “Hush, child, it’s better than it looks.” I often wonder if Daisy knew these would be the most influential words we would share, I wonder if she understood the hope they gave me. I wonder if, in her wisdom, she knew I would forever carry them with me long after her voice had faded. I wonder if she knew how they would shape the way I view all of life.

It is a beautiful truth that seems to surpass all obstacles, that knows no bounds – things are better than they appear, even in the worst of moments. May you find hope in this.