A reposting of Nonnie Jules' blog

     Thursday was not a good day for me. I was feeling all sorts of blue, and that’s never me. I mean, in some parts of town, I’m called “Sunshine” because I always have a smile on my face for someone. I woke up not feeling all that grand and if my memory serves me correctly, I went to bed feeling the same. I was tired, mentally and physically and my heart was racing a little…which is always my queue to get up, turn off the lamp and walk away from my office. I turned in at a decent hour Wednesday night (for me, that is), which was probably before 3 am. I slept a little late the next morning, but still woke up with a horrible headache and a mood that wasn’t so pretty.

     As I went about my work day, I could feel that certain irritability growing inside me, which I’m pretty familiar with by now, and my intolerance for little annoyances, even in my work, was steadily growing. (I think my family could feel that storm brewing, because they were gone a lot longer than usual yesterday…the poor things).

     Later that night, my daughter called and said that they were on the way home. I was excited for their arrival, because I really hadn’t seen them much that day and I don’t like when our days are that busy. When she got home, she walked in with a package in her arms. She kissed me on the cheek, laid the package on the table and said “Lucky you, Mom, the package is for you,”  as she headed up the stairs. For me?

     Since I get books to be reviewed by the dozens every day, I just assumed that it was a really big book inside the package, as I wasn’t expecting anything else.

     When I opened the box, I pulled out a beautiful coverlet, which I would later find out, after pulling envelopes from the box, that it was a “prayer shawl.”  First, I opened the smallest envelope and inside was a beautiful card, hand designed and signed by the artist.

     I was just as excited for the card and this message from the artist as I was for the real gift!  And then, I read the little pamphlet inside, explaining the “prayer shawl” and its purpose. I won’t post the entire thing, but will share the part of it, that moved me most (I am re-typing it exactly as is written on the pamphlet):

“SHAWLS…MADE FOR CENTURIES UNIVERSAL AND EMBRACING, SYMBOLIC OF AN INCLUSIVE, UNCONDITIONALLY LOVING GOD.  They wrap, enfold, comfort, cover, give solace, mother, hug, shelter and beautify. Those who have received these shawls have been uplifted and affirmed, as if given wings to fly above their troubles…” ~ Janet Bristow
“This prayerful ministry reaches out to those in need of solace and comfort… Many blessings are prayed into every shawl. The maker begins with prayers and blessings for the recipient. The intentions are continued throughout the creation of the shawl. Upon completion, a final blessing is offered before it is sent on to the recipient. The recipient may continue the kindness by creating a shawl and passing it on to someone they know that is in need of comfort and blessings. Thus, the ministry has a ripple effect, from giver to receiver, the unconditional embrace and sheltering of a nurturing and loving God. The shawls must always be given away unconditionally and never sold. They are created in prayer for the recipient, that they may be embraced by the prayers and blessings contained in each stitch.”

     Now, I wouldn’t refer to me as a highly religious person. Hold on a minute, though, don’t confuse what I’m saying, because I do have my religion, but I would say that I am more of a spiritual person and the two are clearly defined differently. So, after reading over all the material that was enclosed with my gifts, I slowly and carefully unfolded the beautiful shawl and wrapped it around my shoulders. I cannot tell you what happened in that moment, but I felt a warmth come over me like never before. I was instantly “calmed.” I stood in my dining room, trying to make sense of what was happening to me, but my mind was still, and my heart no longer racing. I felt so safe, I felt so loved and just thankful. All of the stress of my day disappeared instantly!

     I picked up the card and read the inside because I hadn’t done that yet, as I was so moved by the sentiment of the drawing of the card. It was from someone very special to me, someone who may not even know that she is such a calming force in my life and she makes me want to be a better person, and from her calm strength, I am searching for my own calm strength.

     When the initial shock of the feeling that I was getting from the “prayer shawl” had moved on, and my feet felt that they could now do what they were made to do, I gathered all of my gifts and walked in the direction of my office. I sat down, shawl still draped about my shoulders, closed my eyes, laid my head back and prayed…thankful for the gift which was sent to give me peace and solace.

     After I finished praying, I got up, draped the shawl over my desk chair…and started to walk out the door of my office. I stopped, turned around and looked at the shawl, draped neatly over the back of my chair, and said to myself “I don’t want to leave it here.  I want to take it to bed with me tonight so that I can feel its warmth and security as I sleep.” So, I turned around and gently lifted it up from the chair and headed to my bedroom.

     I got into bed without kneeling to pray last night, as I wanted to, for whatever strange reason, pray, while lying on my back, looking upwards, with my “prayer shawl” safely covering me. And I did. I closed my eyes and slept like a newborn baby last night. When I woke up this morning, that headache of mine was present again, but yet, I felt extra safe and secure, still wrapped in my shawl....

....to read more, go to WATCH NONNIE WRITE!

Today an angel took flight, and with his departure part of my heart went too. I wrote about Larry a year ago, when he was vibrant and strong. The sadness of his leaving, prompts the sharing of a story. It is published in RAVE SOUP FOR THE WRITER'S SOUL, an anthology of the Rave Reviews Book Club.
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Shoulder to shoulder at street corners and nearby parking lots, thousands of us waited for the parade to begin. Children playfully waved little flags, gifted by local businesses, while the rest of us proudly wore our Red, White and Blue. It was Veterans Day 2013. 

The crowd of spectators erupted in applause as a high school band marched past, playing John Philip Sousa’s “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” Then a vintage Ford Mustang convertible, carrying the Grand Marshal Larry Konzen, slowly followed their lead. Larry wore his WWII Army uniform, now decorated with the Purple Heart, Bronze Star and Combat Infantry Badge, and waved to the admiring crowd. The parade had officially begun.

One float after another passed by, but it was the streams of veterans, identified by branch of service and by military campaign, that caught my attention. Some had lost limbs, but those who were able-bodied marched in unison: the Army, the Navy, the Marines, the Air Force, the Coast Guard, men and women who had served their country—who had served all of us.

Larry had not wanted to be the Grand Marshal, explaining that there were many others more deserving than he. A modest man, he spoke of those who had served by his side against the Third Reich and did not return home. His military decorations were for them, he explained. This was a day of remembrance.

Months after the parade had passed, I noticed Larry at church, a quiet spoken, unassuming gentleman, respected by all. Well into his 90s, he was the first to reach out to help someone in need. Though I did not know him personally, I had become friends with his wife of sixty years—Margaret. Her fun-loving spirit endeared me to her and, in fact, she had become family to me.

Then one day, Larry approached me.

“Gwen, I read your book,” he said straightforwardly. “My wife gave it to me. And, I need to say something to you.”

I was stunned by his admission. I had forgotten that I had given my book to Margaret, and certainly did not think that she would share it with him. I was a little concerned about what he might say next. Did I offend him by something I wrote? I braced for the worst, but when I looked into his eyes, softened by age, I knew there was no reason for apprehension.

“I need to apologize to you,” he said, “on behalf of any man who would treat you poorly. I am sorry you suffered violence.” After pausing a bit, he continued. “I don’t know how you managed as you did, but I apologize again for what your former husband did.”  

I did not know what to say. A man who had endured bodily harm in the European theatre during World War II was apologizing to me. I stumbled for words, and none were forthcoming. I hadn’t expected this. When he said he wanted to speak with me, I thought he might want to congratulate me for finally publishing a book. But no, he wanted to apologize for something he did not do.

Speechless, I stared in disbelief, and then finally offered a simple, “thank you.”

“You shouldn’t have had to experience that, Gwen. No woman should experience that. It’s not right!” He said firmly. Then clasping my hand for just a second, he smiled and took his leave.

When I saw Margaret a few weeks later, I mentioned that her husband had spoken to me.
“Do you know what he said to me?” I asked.
“No, I didn’t even know he talked to you. But now I’m interested,” she said, smiling mischievously. “What did he say? I hope it was something good.”

As I recounted the story and his apologies, her eyes watered a bit and then she responded with just one line:

“Oh,” she said, “One more reason to love him.”

Larry and his loving wife, Margaret -- angels both.
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