The Love Letters

Cecil Hayes usually bounced up the walk when he came to visit me. Seeing my friend's happiness always made me eager to hear his news. One day, I was startled to see him dragging up the walk. Shoulders slumped, head down, Cecil's face was gray! "Eeyore!" I exclaimed as he came through the door, "whatever has happened? Why are you so sad?"

"Who is Eeyore? Cecil asked sadly.

"Eeyore is the sad little donkey in Winnie the Pooh," I explained. "He drags around, and YOU look so sad and dragging! You usually bounce up the walk!"

"I feel sad and draggy," Cecil sighed. "James' and Louise's boy Greg has had a terrible accident. They don't know if he'll get better. A truck he was working under came off the jack and fell on him."

Cecil was of an age and time that many men thought they always had to put on a brave face. These friends were dear to Cecil. And Greg was just 18 years old. Cecil was so sad and near tears, I knew his heart was in shreds. I started gently asking him for more details while asking God to guide me ­ to see if there was anything I could say or do that would be a blessing.

"Which is worse," he struggled to say, "to think Greg might not even make it, or to think he will make it and will never walk again? He's so young. He's got his life ahead of him. He needs to dance at his wedding and play with his children. What if that never happens?" Now I was near tears myself, as much for Cecil with his caring heart in such horrible pain as I was for Greg and his parents. "Cecil, let's just ask God to send angels to be with Greg," I said softly, "how many shall we ask for?"

"I don't know that they listen to us," he replied, "but you seem so sure they do, - let's send a hundred!" Then he gave a little giggle, "Okay, let's send two-hundred while we're at it."

Relieved to see a little color come back in Cecil's face as his breath started coming easier, I realized I had been scared too. "Cecil," I offered, "I'm thinking there's something else we can to for Greg. I don't know what it is yet, but let's ask God. There will be an answer."

A day or two later, I felt an urge to look for greeting cards. At first I was puzzled, there were no birthdays coming up for my family or friends. As I strolled past the cards, I decided to find THE PERFECT CARD for Cecil to send to Greg. Now I was on a mission. But something seemed missing in all of the get-well cards. What?

Then I saw a 'secret pal' card and I knew. Cecil could send Greg some cards and sign them "Your Secret Admirer", or "Your Secret Pal", and the mystery of who had sent it might distract Greg from the injury. I knew enough about engaging the body's natural healing ability to know it was worth the try.

I was so excited about the idea I couldn't even wait for Cecil to come over. I called to tell him the plan and was nearly discouraged when he said it wasn't a good idea. "Why!" I squealed. "Why isn't it a good idea? Greg would get curious and that is a very healthy thing."

"Cause I wouldn't know what to write!" he said flatly, digging in his heels.

Even though Cecil was enormously smart, he had quit high school quite young and was not formally educated. He could rebuild any car and had won more than one award for his ideas for efficiency or innovation at the automobile assembly plant where he worked, but he was not comfortable expressing himself in writing. Putting his thoughts and feelings on paper felt hard and awkward. "Oh Cecil," I said lightly, "You know how I LOVE to write. We'll do it together. You give me the ideas and I'll put it into words. We'll do great!"

Cecil REALLY liked that and started feeding me ideas right away. From then on, until he could tell me that all was well with Greg, we wrote a get well card every day and signed it "Your Secret Pal", or "Your Secret Admirer." We had such fun. I'd buy several cards at a time and we visited or spoke every day so I would know what was going on with Greg ­ what he might need to hear ­ what Greg had been talking about.

Some of the cards were meant to be soothing, some inspiring, and some an intentional kick in the rear. We could almost feel what Greg needed to hear next. It became our ministry. We were both grateful to be helping Greg Cecil because he cared so deeply about Greg and me because Cecil's caring had touched me so.

Early on, I found a large patch of the most gigantic four-leaf clovers I had ever seen. Almost every card from then on had a huge four-leaf clover in it. Some of them were as large as the palm of my hand.

I am a life-long lover of four-leaf clovers. Always look for them when I see a patch of clover. Always delighted when I find one or two. I had never seen such a large, persistent patch of huge four-leaf clover, and since that time, I never have again. Cecil and I took it as a sign. I'd say a little prayer as I mailed each card. And await the reports.

Cecil would hear from the family about the cards and then report back to me all excited, telling me what people were saying about the cards, what effect they seemed to be having on Greg. It became a happy game for us, especially when we realized that the cards were indeed helping. Cecil was amazed and tickled that it had become a game for everyone to figure out who was writing the cards. I was too!

Somehow they knew it was a woman's handwriting and that I was highly educated. I wasn't using any big words or anything but Cecil said it was just the way I put my words together. They really played the detective and knew it had to be someone close or someone who knew someone close. In a way, I think it helped everyone be more lighthearted ­ the mystery was a blessing in and of itself.

At one point, the doctors were being less than absolutely confident about Greg having a complete recovery. I sort of flew off the handle about their attitude and made an impassioned plea to Greg to remember that God was bigger than any situation we ever found ourselves facing. "Healing your body isn't any harder for God than creating pine trees," I wrote, "You just have to keep telling yourself that ­ God is in charge and God is more powerful than this situation. I think you ought to just tell the doctors that! What do they know? They don't know everything! Make up your mind that God is in charge, Greg, and tell those doctors as boldly as you can that God is in charge! Your body will heal." Cecil really liked that card. He may not have had a formal theology but he knew I had written the truth!

Another time, Greg's girlfriend Shannon (now his wife) wanted to stay home from work and be with him. The cost of a home care nurse would have cost about three times the salary Shannon needed for less than a third of the time. Greg put his strong young energy into convincing insurance company. They thought it was a fine idea. I congratulated him in the next letter for speaking up for what he wanted.

It was so like Cecil to do whatever he could to help another person. There was never any fanfare or to do about it. He would see a need and respond.

Cecil passed away several years ago ­ and people still talk about his caring ways. What a privilege it was for me to have been his friend and to have played a part in this blessing. He got to see Greg dance at his wedding and play with his children.