The following short story is from the latest book written by my wife, Tomi Jill Folk and myself. Windowsill Whimsy, Gardening & Horticultural Therapy Projects for Small Spaces was released at the American Horticultural Therapy Association conference in Lexington, KY on Nov 1st. It was written for activity directors, teachers, community workers and family members. It is already selling well, including some international orders.
In this collection of HT projects, activities and quizzes we included a few short stories. The following is an excerpt from this book. It is my Christmas gift to you. Hope you enjoy it.
Peace, Hank
Gingerbread Friends
A
short story
of the shared joy
and the simple blessings
that can be found in the wishes
of a small child and the wisdom of an old lady
A
short story
of the shared joy
and the simple blessings
that can be found in the wishes
of a small child and the wisdom of an old lady
Jessie had reached that point in the afternoon where school was BORING. She had enjoyed the reading class in the morning, and art was always fun. Today she had made a special picture to take home for her mother. But, now Mrs. Olsen seemed to have lost her enthusiasm as well. Last year they would have taken naps, but now they had to learn social studies and math in the afternoon. Jessie had always wondered if teachers took a nap at the same time the kids did. Several times she had tried to stay awake and find out, but she always fell asleep. Now, in first grade, there were no naps.
Today is was really cold outside. Wind whistled around the corners of the school and through the big blue spruce that stood by the flag pole. Jessie suddenly realized that Mrs. Olsen wasn’t looking at them, she wasn’t even looking at the book she was holding. She was looking out the window! And she was smiling. When she smiled like that it usually meant that the goldfinches and chickadees were having a snack at the sunflowers that had grown from the seeds they all planted last spring.
"Children!" she said. "Do you see what I see?"
Everyone turned their eyes toward the windows. Jessie stared at the sunflowers but couldn’t see any birds, just the big seedheads nodding at her in the wind.
"Look closely," Ms. Olsen told them all as she motioned for them to get out of their seats and follow her to the windows.
"IT’S SNOWING!" Tanya shouted.
Everyone of the children strained their eyes to see the first snow of the winter. Next week was Thanksgiving. The snow was late this year. Soon each of them had spotted a flake and followed it to the grass on the lawn, or the sidewalk. In a few minutes the beautiful crystals were appearing so fast that they seemed to be standing on tippy-toe on the blades of grass and the needles of the big old spruce at the corner of the playground. Then they would disappear into mini-puddles of water.
Everyone was hoping that there would be enough snow to do all the fun things we can do with it.
Alex was thinking about building a snow fort. Shawna had never seen snow before and was wondering what it felt like to have it melt in your hand. When Carlita closed her eyes she imagined she could feel the wind in her face as she rode her sled down Gourley’s hill. Freddie and Tucker had visions of snowball fights. Michelle was trying to remember where she had put her ice skates last spring.
Jessie’s joy turned to sadness when she thought about the last time they had snow. It was last spring. She could remember helping her neighbor, Old Mrs. Carter, shovel her walk. Tears formed in her eyes when she thought about her neighbor falling and breaking her hip. She remembered running in the house to call 911. She remembered bringing out blankets and a big old quilt to keep Ms. Carter warm until help came. She remembered them lifting the old lady onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. She remembered that Mrs. Carter never came home.
She went back to her seat and got a tissue from her backpack.
Ms. Olsen came over and sat down beside her.
Jessie told her all about how her neighbor had been taken to a hospital, then a nursing home.
"Would you like to visit her?" The teacher asked, as she put her arms around the sadness, giving Jessie a comfortable hug.
"Can I?" Jessie asked in return.
"Of course. I think Mrs. Carter would like to have a visit from you."
The smile returned as Jessie wiped her eyes and tucked the tissue in her pocket. "When can we?"
"The Holly Hill Senior Care Center is only a couple blocks from here. Let’s call your mother and see if it’s all right for you to go."
Jessie’s mother wasn’t certain that it would be good for Jessie to see all those old folks at "the home" but finally agreed to let her visit their former neighbor.
By the time school was out there was a soft layer of fresh new snow all over the grass and the trees, but it was all melted on the walkways and the parking lot. There is a magic in the first snow of winter. Jessie had put on her coat and started for the door when she remembered the picture she had drawn for her mother earlier that day. She raced back to her desk and carefully tucked it into her backpack.
When they got to the Holly Hill Senior Care Center, Jessie thought that it looked a lot like a school. There were sidewalks, a parking lot, spruce and holly trees, and there was even a bird feeder right outside the dinning room windows. When they stepped inside she saw several people in wheelchairs, a nurse and several other people who seemed to be very busy. There were bouquets of flowers in the lobby and a big old sandy colored dog keeping an elderly gentleman company down the hall.
"Levenia Carter is in room 143, down this hall and to the right," the lady at the desk said. Then she thought about it for a moment. "Is she expecting you? She doesn’t get many visitors."
"We’re going to surprise her," Jessie announced. "I even brought her a picture I made today." This piece of artwork had been intended for Jesse’s mother but it seemed Mrs. Carter might need it more.
They went down the hall and made a right turn. There was room 143, beside the door was a name plate that said in small red letters "Ms. Levenia Carter." Inside the room was a bed, a night stand, a small table with a TV on it and a rocking chair by the window. That rocking chair was slowly rocking back and forth, but its back was to them so they couldn’t see its occupant.
"Mrs. Carter, Ma’am?" Jessie asked as a way of announcing their presence.
Slowly the wrinkled dark brown face surrounded by a halo of snow white hair appeared from the side of the rocker. There was a brief moment of pondering, then a smile spread across the entire face and a hand reached for the aluminum walker that waited beside the chair.
"Lord Almighty, if’n you ain’t a sight to behold." She stood and grasped the walker with both hands. "Come over here, Child, let me look at you. My how you’ve growed."
Then she looked at Ms. Olsen and deep lines crossed her forehead. "Who might this be? I know it ain’t your Mamma."
Jessie introduced her teacher and they slowly walked down to the end of the hall where there was a sitting room with some comfortable chairs and a window where they could continue to watch the snow falling on the shrubbery and trees outside.
"I remember the last time it snowed. You saved my life when you called them medics." She paused for a long moment, then continued. "Child, I surely do miss you. Come here and give me a hug."
They talked about snow and Thanksgiving and winter and Christmas. Jessie always like to hear Mrs. Carter talk about her childhood in Georgia where she grew up. Her father had been a sharecropper and life was tough. She didn’t get to go to school much and didn’t learn to read until she moved north with her husband after their farm was sold.
When Jessie gave her the picture she kissed the child and held the colorful drawing of a gingerbread man to her heart. She would pause every few seconds to look at it again.
Soon it was time to go. They walked Mrs. Carter back to her room and put on their coats. After one last hug. Mrs Carter opened the drawer of her night stand and removed a roll of tape. She taped the picture on the wall right beside the window. "There. Now every time I gets lonely I can just look at my Gingerbread Friend." She laughed and everyone hugged again.
Jessie had so many questions she wanted to ask as Ms. Olsen backed out of the parking space and onto the street. She wanted to ask about what it was like to get old. She wanted to ask why everyone seemed so lonely. She wanted to ask why those people had to stay there. She wanted to ask if Ms. Olsen was going to get old and stay there. She wanted to ask if she was going to get old and live there. She wanted to ask why Ms. Carter couldn’t come home again. But she held all these questions inside.
It was on the way to her house that the idea came to Jessie. "Ms. Olsen, could we do something?"
"Umm. Maybe. What do you want to do?" She asked as they reached Jessie’s driveway.
"Could we come back again? Can we visit Mrs. Carter next week?" Jessie asked hesitantly.
The teacher was quiet for a moment, then answered, "I don’t know. Do your think your parents will allow it?"
They did visit the old lady the again, the week after Thanksgiving. Mrs. Carter seemed to have a sparkle in her eyes. Jessie was pleased to see her picture of the "Gingerbread Friend" still taped on the wall where the old lady could see it from anywhere in the room.
They had a nice visit. Mrs. Carter told them about how, when she was just a youngster herself she helped bake gingerbread cookies, because that was all they had to decorate their Christmas tree. "We was too poor to buy ornaments, and us children could eat them cookies when no one was looking."
When they left they walked down the hall passing lonely men and women in chairs and wheelchairs. They all looked so sad, but they smiled when she waved at them and said "Merry Christmas."
"Ms. Olsen, I wish we could do something." Jessie said as they stepped out into the wind and snow that was swirling around the parking lot. "Can we?"
"Well that depends. I think a trip to MacDonald's will spoil your dinner. I don’t think your parents would like that very much."
"No. That’s not what I was thinking." There was a sparkle in her eyes as she spoke. "I wish all of us from school could come over and visit with Mrs. Carter and all the other people here. They all seem so lonely."
"We’ll have to talk to the rest of the students, all of your parents and these folks here too." Ms. Olsen was hesitating, not sure this was a good idea, but proud of Jessie for thinking of it.
"But, it was so much fun to hear her tell the story about her Christmas when she made all the gingerbread cookies." Jessie was using her ‘please, may I’ voice.
An idea was forming in Ms. Olsen’s mind. "I think that would be a lot of fun for everyone. Let’s find out what we can do."
By the next afternoon Jessie and her friends were on the Internet looking for recipes for gingerbread and Mrs. Olsen had spent her lunch hour with the principle. Jessie’s wish was about to come true.
It was Friday afternoon when the bus pulled up to the school and all the children in Ms. Olsen’s class piled in, each one carrying cookie cutters, eggs, flour, milk bowls, gingerbread cookie cutters and cookie sheets.
When they arrived at the Holly Hill Senior Center, there was a big Christmas tree in the lobby. Christmas carols were playing and there were dozens of folks with wheelchairs and walkers waiting for them. It seemed like everyone was talking at once as the lady in the blue uniform and Santa hat led them all down the hall to the dining room and kitchen.
They gathered around the tables and started to read recipes, crack eggs, measure milk and flour. Everyone was talking at once and everyone was getting dusty with the flour and sticky with the egg whites, and everyone was having fun. They worked in teams to mix the gingerbread cookie dough, stamp out the shapes with the gingerbread people cookie cutters, put them on the cookie pans, and march them into the kitchen where the chefs would put them in the ovens. Soon the tables were filled with hundreds and hundreds of "Gingerbread Friends."
As soon as they were cool everyone started decorating and trimming them with icing, candy and colored sugar sprinkles. Each table was a mess and every hand had sticky fingers, but everyone was smiling and laughing.
Finally it was time to take the cookies out to the empty tree in the lobby.
Trays, and boxes and rolling carts were filled with "Gingerbread Friends." Everyone in a wheelchair had a tray of cookies on their laps as they formed a parade from the dining room to the lobby. The school children were pushing the wheelchairs of their new found grand-friends, and everyone was singing Christmas carols as they paraded down the hall.
Everyone took turns hanging their favorite "Gingerbread Friends" on the tree until that tree was so full of gingerbread ornaments that there wasn’t room for even one more "Gingerbread Friend."
But there were still hundreds left, all sizes and shapes of gingerbread men, gingerbread women, gingerbread girls and gingerbread boys.
"Look at all the cookies we have left over," the lady in the blue uniform moaned. "What are we going to do with all of these?"
Mrs. Carter had become quiet, and almost sad as the tree was filled with "Gingerbread Friends." Now she turned to all the people gathered in the lobby. They were all tired, well dusted with flour, dotted with icing in a rainbow of colors. Everyone became quiet while she braced herself against her walker.
"We are all so blessed here today. Look at us. We are warm. We got friends, music and more cookies than we can ever eat."
She paused and shifted to her other foot to ease the pain in her hip. "There’s folks out there," she pointed out the window at the swirling snow, "So poor they ain’t got Christmas trees, no presents, no warm places to live, so poor they ain’t even got a friend."
A big smile crossed her old and wrinkled face. "We can share our blessings. We can share our Gingerbread Friends.
And that’s the way it all started. The Gingerbread Friends were boxed up while coats, and scarves, and mittens and hand knitted caps were gathered from each room. Soon they were ready to deliver the Gingerbread Friends to the homeless shelter downtown, and the people who were in the Meals-on-Wheels program, the school for children with developmental disabilities. And other places that got added to the list as they loaded the Holly Hill vans and the school bus.
The next time you eat a gingerbread cookie,
or see a gingerbread house,
or gingerbread people on a Christmas tree
think of the Gingerbread Friends
and what grew from a wish made by little Jessie
and the vision of an old lady named Levenia.
Think of what can happen when we all join together
and share our joy, and share our blessings,
when we become a blessing to each other.
Peace isn't something we possess, it's something we share
