ElleSpeak

Have you ever had someone come into your life at the exact moment you needed them most? Some of us would say that was a happy coincidence, and others would say that perhaps you had a visit from an earthly angel. This story is about one of my earthly angels and how her visit changed my life.

After my parents’ divorce became final and the court awarded my Dad full custody of us three children, his life and ours settled into a rhythm of work, school, eat, and sleep. After a year or so of this monotonous rhythm some of Dad’s well-meaning friends began to tell him he needed to find a woman to share his life with, and someone who would be a good mother to his children. They started fixing him up on blind dates with friends they thought might be perfect for the job, and that’s how Dad met a woman named Lee Green. They would only date for a few short months, but her influence on my life would be felt the rest of my days.

Lee was a tall woman in her late thirties with a nice figure and fine wavy hair cut short so the waves fell gently around her face. Her face was lovely with a creamy complexion, but to her disgust she had a soft pouch of skin that fell from just beneath her chin to the hollow of her throat. She was originally from Boston and still carried a trace of that Eastern accent. She spoke softly yet distinctly in a low pitched voice and some people might have called her speech affected. She was a registered nurse who had returned to work after the demise of her 15 year marriage.

Her two daughters lived with her and attended the private Orchard School in Indianapolis. Ruth, the oldest, was my age, 14, and a bit self-centered. She only wanted to talk about which boy thought she was cute, and who she had made out with at the last party she’d attended. Her 11 year old little sister was a sweet-natured girl named Mary Lee who was the same age, 12, as my younger brother Gene, and they spent a lot of happy time together.

Lee and her girls lived in the well-respected Meridian Kessler neighborhood in the most spacious apartment I had ever seen in my short life. The hardwood floors were covered with Oriental rugs and the long mullioned windows were hung with beautiful drapes. The furniture was worn but well-cared for and a baby grand piano stood next to the fireplace and bookshelves in the living room. Today the décor would most likely be called shabby chic, and it was certainly chic to me at the time.

After being raised in a small house where my tiny bedroom had been created by walling off part of our dining room, the size of these rooms alone astounded me, not to mention the grace of the furnishings. I spent many hours in that lovely apartment soaking up the ambiance, as well as the female companionship.

In the short time I knew her Lee gave me a few significant gifts that truly enriched my life. I had always been a reader but had never read anything as powerful as the first book she gave me, Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird”. I spent calm, peaceful hours stretched out on her velvet sofa reading great books that opened up a whole new way of looking at the world for me.

She gave me another gift when, tactfully and discreetly, she began to correct my poor English. Somehow she did this without ever hurting my feelings. At the time I met Lee the word “ain’t” would frequently spill from my mouth, and I was confused about which pronoun agreed with which verb tense. However, with her smooth, non-judgmental guidance, I was soon speaking English better than I ever had.

As I spent time with her I began to learn just by watching her interactions with people in different social situations. Through her example I learned much about polite manners, and social skills that would serve me well in the coming years.
However, the greatest gift she attempted to give me was the recovery of my self-esteem, which had plummeted with the loss of my mother’s presence in my life. Being a teen-ager brings its own set of emotional challenges, but I was also struggling with how to survive and grow in a motherless, male household. I was pretty confused about who I was and where I belonged.

Part of me was still the familiar and beloved tomboy, but the more feminine side of me that enjoyed wearing the pretty dresses my Mom had once sewn for me, was beginning to ask more and more to be acknowledged. That feminine side wanted me to look my best, but unfortunately, I had no idea how to care for my troubled skin, or how to choose clothes that looked good on my tomboy figure; and I was completely lost when it came to knowing how to make my hair look anything close to the pictures I saw in the magazines. To complicate things further, the shyness I had always lived with was becoming increasingly more severe, and it was preventing me from reaching out and finding friends when I most needed them.

In truth, I felt really uncomfortable in my own skin. One moment I would relax into my tomboyish ways, and in the next moment I would attempt to surge forward and try to honor the pretty girl that was inside me clamoring to be noticed. I didn’t know how to go about blending my two seemingly disparate selves, so most days I’m sure my outer appearance revealed the confusion and misery that was churning around on the inside while I was trying to become someone I could like and be comfortable with.
I don’t know Lee’s personal history but when she looked at me perhaps she saw something familiar and painful, and was moved to try and do something about it; or perhaps being a nurturer was just part of who she was. I’ll never know her true motivation but I’m grateful to this day for her concern.

One afternoon, due to some behind-the-scenes maneuvering on her part, she and I were alone in the house where I was living with my Dad and brothers. We were standing in front of the bathroom mirror where she was giving me a few pointers on how to take better care of my acne-plagued skin.

She was standing behind me looking at me in the mirror when her eyes caught mine, and while holding my gaze, she reached up and put a hand on each side of my face, gently embracing it, and then tilting it up slightly, so my eyes were level with hers in the mirror. Quietly, she said to me, “Eleanor, look at the lovely young woman I see in the mirror. She has beautiful blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and a very pretty smile.” Her hands still on each side of my face she gently turned it so she could see my profile. “Look at you. You’re becoming a woman and you should be proud of who you are. When you enter a room, stand up straight, put your shoulders back, lift that pretty chin, and look directly into the eyes of everyone you meet. Love who you are, because there’s only one you and that makes you special.”

I hadn’t heard words like that in quite some time and they touched me deeply. I turned to face her, threw my arms around her, and buried my face in her soft embrace, and sobbed, big wet, messy sobs. She wrapped me up and held me tightly in her loving kindness, and she rocked us back and forth, and back and forth, until eventually I was ready to let go of her. We let go of each other slowly and for a few seconds more we just stood, quietly looking at each other, not saying a word.

Like most angelic visitations Lee’s presence in my life was perfectly timed and lasted only a short while, but the gifts she so easily and gracefully bestowed on me would remain with me for the rest of my life. She helped me to become a better, more hopeful version of myself, and perhaps more importantly, gave me an awareness of the power of kindness and how it can actually change the course of someone’s life; and to this day, before entering a room I put my shoulders back, lift my chin, and look sincerely into the eyes of everyone I meet.

Not too long after this, to Lee’s disappointment, my Dad found the woman he would happily spend the rest of his life with, and whom I would come to love and admire deeply. Still, I sometimes wondered what life would have been like for us if Dad had chosen Lee. If it were possible, I would share this story with her, give her a big hug, look into her eyes, and thank her from the bottom of my heart for being the angel I needed at exactly that moment in my journey.

Through the years I have again and again felt the deepest sense of gratitude for her presence in my life, and have often thought of writing her to tell her how I feel; but unfortunately, I’ve never been able to find an address for her or her daughters. I can only hope that she knew how much her kindness meant to me.