SUNDAY: Love is Kind

The first thing Sunday morning Shane opens the curtains at the front of her house. By ten o'clock she makes periodic trips to the window to make certain that she doesn't miss her. When 10:45 arrives and she has not seen anyone come out of the house across the street she grabs her coat, walks up to the front door, and rings the bell. After no immediate answer she knocks and calls through the closed door.

"Jewell, it's Shane. Everything ok?"

A petite woman bent with age slowly opens the door. She wears a peach chenille robe and slippers; her walk is greatly assisted by a cane.

"Good morning, come on in June Bug."

"Are you ok? I didn't see you come out for church so I came to check on you."

The elderly lady slowly lowers herself into the recliner and motions for Shane to take a seat on the couch.

"I'm fine. I was going to church but Arthur came to visit me yesterday in a bad way and I'm going nowhere – nowhere quickly. What's worrying those blue eyes?"

Shane met Jewell Moorefield the first week she first moved to Denver. Jewell brought Shane a plate of homemade sugar cookies to welcome her to the neighborhood. "Mrs. Moorefield, those are the best cookies I have ever eaten. You should box them and sell them. You would be rich." "Oh Shane, first of all call me Jewell and I'm already rich. It's just in things money can't buy." Unbeknownst to Shane then – she has an eighty plus year old mentor in faith living across the street. Since then, the woman who once walked straight and with ease is slowed with arthritis.

And Jewell's arthritis is in part responsible for how Shane first attended church with her and became close friends with this remarkable woman.

Jewell is from Mississippi. She and her husband moved to Denver in 1953. A career air force man, he was stationed there. They never saw any need to return to Mississippi. Their three children were all born in Denver. Her oldest son is an officer and a gentleman, as Jewell likes to say. He has four children that she will proudly tell you about – in detail. Her oldest daughter is a highly respected pediatric surgeon in Boulder. "Why she doesn't quit and stay home and raise her babies I'll never know." Her babies are now 17 and 20 years of age. Jewell's youngest son is a clown – according to his momma. Actually he is a lawyer with a huge firm in Chicago but his momma always calls him the family clown. His older brother and sister call him spoiled.

Jewell once lived in a larger house near the air force base. She said that she downsized to maintain her independence. Most Sundays, especially in warm weather, she still walks to church.

The first winter Shane is in Denver she leaves her house one Sunday morning to run to the market. As she pulls out she notices Jewell walking slowly with a cane – her usual smile missing.

"Jewell, can a give you ride?"

"Are you going to church?"

"I was going to the…"

But before she can finish, Jewell gives her such a look – dropped chin, eyes raised – her children call it "the momma look." The answer could only be one thing.

"Yes I am. We can – go – together. Just where are we going?"

Off the unlikely pair go. Shane is in jeans, a sweater, Nikes, and a winter coat. Jewell fashions an emerald green dress, matching winter coat, matching hat with wide brim, leather gloves, low heel pumps, her Bible and a cane – arthritis, 80 plus years of living, and all.

The church is only a few blocks away. The small diverse group and tiny choir are a warm and welcoming congregation. Since that time on particularly cold Sunday mornings Shane just "happens" to be going somewhere and gives Mrs. Moorefield a ride to church.

Mrs. Moorefield taught high school math for thirty-five years. She is almost as comfortable with a laptop as Shane. She stands only five feet two inches tall but Shane quickly sees why she had no trouble controlling a classroom of teenagers. She could control the entire air force. Why she could have a career and her daughter should not is something Shane does not fully understand. However, it is also something she does not question.

Mrs. Moorefield is a woman who experienced many hard life lessons. Her strength and toughness are matched by her compassion and mercy. Mrs. Moorefield grew up in the segregated south, went to work when she was thirteen, put herself through college, lost her husband in Vietnam, raised three successful children to adulthood as a widow, and lost her eldest grandson in Afghanistan.

When Shane needs advise or feels lonely, she shows up on Mrs. Moorefield's doorstep. She doesn't have to tell her. Jewell knows. It is "a momma thing." Shane wound up on Jewell's doorstep when she was homesick and when she ended things with Steve and even after an uncomfortable evening with a security guy from work. But her first real heart to heart is after she and Oliver have their first real argument. Jewell tells her to pray about it and it will get better. "Being a real friend sometimes means telling someone something they don't want to hear and patiently loving them until they listen. June Bug, you need to be praying. Talking to Jesus makes everything better." At the time, Shane does not have the heart to tell the woman that she doesn't know how to pray. How things changed.

During these advisory sessions Mrs. Moorefield's southern accent often comes out and she calls Shane "June Bug." Shane notices. One day she decides to ask about the nickname.

"Why do you call me June Bug sometimes?"

"Does it bother you?'

"No, I like it," said Shane.

"Well, it's because you remind me of a summer's day back in Mississippi. Your blonde hair and smile are like sunshine in June. I guess where I grew up, you give people you love a nickname."

Shane's eyes well with tears as she wraps her arms around her mentor, resting her head on Jewell's shoulder.

Shane drives Jewell to church more often than she accompanies her to church. But her visits to the sanctuary across the street continue. Recently she goes to church with Oliver – but not for the last couple of weeks. And that as well as Oliver's recent mood brings Shane to Jewell's altar this Sunday.

"Men," sighed Shane.

"Men? Or that one man I've seen coming by your house?"

"Jewell, I don't know what to do. It started about a few weeks ago. We had gone out to dinner. It was a Saturday. He seemed a little distracted. Usually he says, see you at church or I'll pick you up for church. He was about to leave and it just felt awkward. He hadn't mentioned anything about going to church or seeing me there. So I sort of lied. "

Shane bit her bottom lip and then rushed her conclusion.

"I volunteered that I wouldn't be able to go to church with him that I was going to have to take you."

"So that's why you were waiting on me with your car running a couple of weeks back," said Jewell.

"I'm sorry. It was just so strained. I wanted to let him off the hook," said Shane.

"You care but didn't want to pry or lie. Why do you think he hasn't asked you to go church?"

"Maybe he thinks I should go to my own church. Or maybe he runs late on Sundays and doesn't have time to come for me," said Shane.

"You don't have your own church. He knows that. And as far as I can see that man has never run late for anything. What are you really worried about?"

"There's a soprano in the choir that crossed my mind but honestly, I may be stupid, but I don't' think that's it. Last night when he left - I don't know. I wasn't sure if he never wanted to leave or if he couldn't wait to leave," said Shane.

Jewell could see the worry come into Shane's eyes.

"You're listening through the ears of fear not faith. June Bug, from everything you've told me over the years, and you were talking about him long before you were seeing him, this is good man like my Bill. When a good man is tempted not to leave is when he knows he must leave."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of that," said Shane blushing.

"You told me it seems he has been troubled. Especially when a God-fearing man is troubled or trying to make a decision he goes to the Lord – in prayer, to church. Maybe you are distraction right now. And if he is trying to decide something important he needs to spend church time focusing on the Lord."

"What do I do?"

"You do the hardest part. Wait patiently, lovingly, prayerfully," said Jewell. "And in the meantime, I've got some leftover soup in the refrigerator. Why don't you warm it on the stove and have lunch with me?"

"Do you have any sugar cookies?"

"Does Denver have snow in winter?"

The two women eat lunch together. Jewell informs Shane of her grandchildren's latest accomplishments. Shane starts washing the dishes only to have Jewell insist on helping. The pain and stiffness in her joints is evident in her every labored move. Shane could do the work in less than half the time but sharing the load is important to both women. Finally they both return to the den and Jewell once again slowly lowers herself into her recliner.

"Before you came knocking on my door I was reading my Bible. We both missed church you know. I'm tired. Why don't you read it to me before you go."

Delivered with the tone of a benevolent but stern schoolteacher, the request could not be denied. Jewell hands Shane the open, well-worn King James Bible and the young apprentice begins to read.

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.

And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,

Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;

Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;

Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.

For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.

But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity

Shane looks over at the recliner. Jewell has fallen asleep. She quietly slips out the door and goes home well fed – physically and spiritually.