Barefooted Arlene*

When I arrive, you are busy making supper, the aroma of fresh apple crisp in the home. You, sweet, barefooted Arlene, come out of the kitchen to greet me. You wear a simple dress with a handmade white apron lying over it. Your pleasant, practical demeanor is refreshing somehow.

After orienting me in my "quarters", you instruct me on my first task: filling in the hole in the drive with earth piled around a tree trunk nearby. Your words are clear and matter-of-fact, neither affectionate nor cold, yet captivating. As I grab my shovel and start filling in the hole, you soon join me - this time apronless with sneakers.

"I figured if I gave you a hard job to do, I should join you", you explain as if you had nothing else to do.

You speak of your daughters, one a teacher and the other a peace advocate in Colombia. There is confidence in your voice but no pride. Your accent sounds Dutch and you insert Spanish phrases into your conversations.

"Si!" and "Como?" you chirp.

You are everything simple and everything serving. In your undecorated yet extravagant care, you are strikingly beautiful. I enjoy being around you just to observe and listen. Contentment and peace flow from your presence and satisfaction from your fiftysome year-old step. How many stories are hidden in your smile lines? How much wisdom in your head?

Blessed are you, Barefooted Arlene...and thank God you know it.

Today I shed my shoes, my socks in order to walk like you walk...to experience the world as you do.

*Written in appreciation of a new friend in McComb, MS on holiday last week.