Christmas with Mrs. Martin

When I was a young girl, we did scouting at church. My mother didn't like the Girl Scouts, so we were Pioneer Girls instead. My two older sisters were participating for years before I was old enough. When they were in 3rd and 4th grade, my mother volunteered to be their age group troop's leader. There was only one glitch -- me. I wasn't even in kindergarten yet, much less grade school, so there was no troop for my age group. With my dad out of town sometimes, my mom needed somewhere for me to go. And so it was that Mrs. Martin became a special person in my life.

Mrs. Martin was a woman in her 40s or 50s, modest, humble, cheerful. She led the scouting troop for the girls in 1st grade and 2nd grade. When it became clear that I wasn't having much fun at the 3rd & 4th grade troop meeting with my mom and sisters, Mrs. Martin suggested to my mother that I attend her meeting. She gave me a special blue beanie to wear, just like the older girls. I lined up with the older girls and learned my pledges and songs. For the rest of the meeting, I could sit and listen to her lesson, or work on a project they were working on, but mostly Mrs. Martin let me sit and do what I wanted. I would bring dolls or stuffed animals and act out dialogues between them. I would draw pictures. Sometimes I just curled up on some pillows with a blanket and fell asleep. No matter, Mrs. Martin was happy to have me there.

She always had something kind and uplifting to say to me. In my preschooler's view, she seemed like Mrs. Claus -- she had apple cheeks that were always rosy, she was a big woman who swallowed you up when she gave you a hug, she loved children, she made amazingly delectable cookies that she shared every week, and she never failed to give me some treasure she had picked up at the five and dime. I loved that woman so much, I could only imagine that she had been placed in my life just to make me happy.

That Christmas when I was four, the older girls in scouting, those in grade school already, went Christmas caroling in the neighborhood around our church. Even though Mrs. Martin told me I really was in the troop, I really was too little to keep up with the activity. The solution was that my mother took the girls out caroling, and Mrs. Martin stayed back at the church to make hot cocoa for the older girls when they returned. And guess who got to HELP HER? Oh, yeah. I can remember just feeling like I was the most special, most important girl in the world. I was Mrs. Martin's helper in making hot cocoa for ALL the older girls in Pioneer Girls. And of course, there were home-baked cookies to go with the cocoa.

When I was in kindergarten, Mrs. Martin allowed me to be a REAL scout. I had a sash and earned badges and everything. My friend Diane also got to join as a kindergartner. She was a super Pioneer Girl. She always remembered to bring everything she needed to for our troop meetings. The other girls in our age group joined along in 1st grade, and I ended up being in Mrs. Martin's troop until I finished 2nd grade.

One year for Christmas, Mrs. Martin invited us all to her house for our troop party. Mrs. Martin's house? What fun! We were going to have dinner and go caroling, then exchange gifts and have punch and cookies. Before we came, she told us at a troop meeting about her son Richard. (Mrs. Martin had children? I never knew.) Richard was severely handicapped and profoundly retarded. He stayed at home with Mrs. Martin and her husband so that they could care for him. He had no language, he was confined to a wheelchair, and he had to be fed by another person. When Mrs. Martin was at our troop meetings, her husband took care of Richard. And since Richard wasn't able to come to church for Sunday services, she usually stayed home with him and watched a service on television. She told us about Richard because he would be home for our party. She was excited because he would finally get to meet all the girls she had told him about!

Mrs. Martin had a son? And she told him all about our troop? I was nervous. What do you say when you meet someone who can't talk? I thought about it until the night of the party.

Her house was small and modest, and it smelled of Christmas -- pine and cinnamon scents mixed with sugary treats. There were simple lights outside and tinsel and garland throughout the house. On each table were holiday napkins and bowls of Christmas candy, and there was a Christmas tablecloth on the kitchen table where we would get dinner. And in the back room of the house was a Christmas tree, brightly lit and full of silvery tinsel.

Richard was in his bedroom. Mrs. Martin went there to get him. She pushed his wheelchair into the kitchen and introduced each of us. I don't remember what I said, but I remember feeling nervous and a little scared. The hot dogs for dinner were ready, so we sat down around the kitchen table at the places she had set. Richard sat in his chair at the table and ate dinner with us as Mrs. Martin fed him. She explained that his hot dogs were made of turkey because he had a special diet that didn't allow regular hot dogs. I wondered what turkey hot dogs tasted like.

Richard didn't seem to mind being with us. And Mrs. Martin seemed entirely herself as she helped Richard at dinner -- cheerful, jolly, sincere, kind. I suppose you could say it was a new way to see her, as a mother and caregiver, not just as a removed figure of happiness that I had seen before. After dinner, Richard didn't seem to mind returning to his room while we prepared to go out caroling. I don't know what he did in that room, but from what I saw of Mrs. Martin's kindness and gentle caregiving, I can imagine that he must have found himself content with the activities he had available.

That was the only time I ever saw Richard. He died when I was older, in high school or college, I think. Mrs. Martin died only a few years ago. She had been ill for quite some time, and her family saw her death as a release for her, that her suffering had finally stopped. She had children other than Richard, but I can imagine that Richard was a person who brought out a side of her that otherwise might not have been there.

As Christmas was approaching this year, I found myself thinking of so many wonderful Christmases that Mrs. Martin was part of in my life. She brought so much contentedness to my young life. Looking back on it now as an adult, I'm glad that she chose that one Christmas to introduce me and my girlfriends to her son, Richard. I think it makes my memories of her so much sweeter than they would have been otherwise.

I hope in these last days before Christmas Day you find a miracle to admire or a memory to cherish that helps to bring all the hub-bub into focus. As we age, it seems like we lose the ability to see the simplicity of certain details. Remember that sometimes as a child, things are so simple and easy to observe. Savor the flavor of the hot cocoa (even if you live in Florida and it's too warm to drink cocoa) and dwell on the scent of the sugar cookies (even if you're on a diet and can't afford the extra 5 pounds the holidays promise to add) and realize that life is too short not to stop and smile at the small wonders around you.