Things I Have Learned (On a More Serious Note)

This past weekend marked a year since a wonderful woman passed away. Bonnie was always "there." She was the woman in the church library who could tell you about horses, knitting and swords. She could easily converse with an eight year old boy about worms and creepy crawls and seamlessly transition to a conversation with an eighty year old about spinning her own yarn to knit. She had an extensive stamp collection, made her own jewelry and owned (and frequently used) a metal detector.

But more than her intense variety of activities, Bonnie was, well, Bonnie. Unique. Friendly. Straightforward. But her best quality? Unconditional Acceptance. Many of us would like to think that we unconditionally accept others, including myself. But when I compare my acceptance to Bonnie's, I know I have a long way to go. Not only did she accept everyone, she invited people in, quietly and below the radar. She offered friendship to those who felt friendless, she offered conversation to those who felt lonely, she offered her services to those who felt in want. In a way I cannot describe, Bonnie knew what others needed.

There was a young man in our ward who was a little bit socially awkward-- always trying to rough house and fight to get attention. He rebelled against authority and ignored everyone else. But he loved Bonnie. Here was this woman who never birthed a child, yet in every way, a mother. She invited this young man into her arms without pomp or circumstance. In fact, I doubt HE even realized. Yet, I saw how he would make a bee line to see her every Sunday. I saw the rare smile on his face when she would show him the rocks she collected that week. She never talked about how she was helping him. I never heard her mention his name out of his presence. She felt no need to tell others what she was doing. And yet, she was doing more than anyone. His actions were controlled around Bonnie. He never lashed out or spoke ill of others in her presence. And Bonnie just accepted him.

I miss her a lot. Even though we moved away and I have not lived close to this woman for years now, knowing that she is gone hurts. But I think of all she did-- and probably is still doing-- and I smile.

I just hope I can grow up to be her.