My earliest memories of my Aunt AR are not rooted in a specific place or situation, but more of the absolutely perfect gifts she sent me as a child. She and her husband (and kids) spent much of the first 16 years of my life with in Japan, where they served with General Conference Mennonite Missions.
Those gifts were special because they represented the culture in which they lived and transported me to their world, since I so rarely got to be with them. I learned to eat a family favorite, chaio tzu (Chinese pork dumplings), with the tiny pair of red chopsticks she'd sent, while wearing another gift of an equally tiny kimono.
There were other gifts -- origami papers, books about children in Japan, and my first pair of zori (the Japanese version of flip-flops.) Over the years, AR's gifts became less material and more often gifts of action. I learned much from her about love, family, giving, and hospitality -- those concepts we don't always recognize or acknowledge as quickly as we should.
One of the gifts I treasure most is a schefflera plant, which began as a tiny start of a start grown from her plant. After her death a few years ago, one of my cousins adopted the plant, and some of the others took starts from the plant home with them.
In a series of text conversations with my cousins, I not-so-subtly hinted that I should have taken a cutting back when AR offered me one. And there begins the story of my piece of AR's schefflera.
A tiny start, roots wrapped securely in a plastic cup, began its journey from Lexington, MA, riding in the pocket of a backpack on the back of a cousin-in-law traveling by airplane to Goshen, IN. There it was transferred to our neighbors, also at the service, followed by a 2 1/2 -hour car ride, where it found its way to our front porch.
As plants often do, that tiny start grew. And grew. As it has grown, it has been repotted several times and today occupies a corner of our living room. And rarely does a day pass that I don't look at it, and think of the memories it carries and feel what it does for my soul.
Thank you, AR.
'Mary, you are so right about her coming into her own over the last few years. I loved talking with her maybe four or five times a week by phone from Massachusetts about so many things. I couldn't have wished for a better mother-in-law. Good advice, but never unless I asked for it, and given so thoughtfully. I'm so glad the plant she loved has flourished for you. You must have tended it carefully. What a special person for both of us!
Thank you, Karen. She had a way of making everyone feel special. I can't admit this to my brothers, but sometimes I miss her more than Mother. Or maybe it's just a different way. I didn't get to have all of the conversations I wanted to have with her. I get mad because she was really just coming in to her own, finally being able to be just her, not an appendage to Bob. If that's selfish, then so it is.
How wonderful, Mary. The ending put a lump in my throat. What a wonderful woman Aunt Alice Ruth was. She always gave me her full attention when I was talking, and whether she was interested or not, she gave the impression she was. A rare thing.