Wednesday Women: Edition 4

In the seventh grade, my family moved to Los Alamos, NM. It was a bit of a culture shock for a southern family to move West.

We immediately began going to the only church of Christ in town, and there we met the most amazing and beautiful woman I think I've ever known. Her name was Ruth Harrington. She was the preacher's wife, and she lived in the house right next to the church building. She was soft spoken, always smiling, and she baked. Oh, man, she baked.

Each year, she'd have a holiday open house, and we LOVED going. The food was incredible, but it was also just fun to get to hang out with our friends in a place we all cherished.

I remember at least once that I got to stay with them when Mom and Dad were out of town. I don't remember where the other girls stayed, but I was at the Harringtons' home all by myself. And I loved it.

I had the privilege of staying in Elynn's bedroom. Elynn was their daughter, and she was already grown and out of the house. In my imagination, she has always been this perfect, beautiful woman, just like her mother.

Just being in Mrs. Harrington's home made me feel refreshed and at peace. It was like vacation. I helped bake cookies and sat in the little living room off the kitchen and read back issues of Reader's Digest. I don't remember a single conversation we had.

As a matter of fact, whenever I think of her, I can't really remember her voice. I think that's because she let others talk. I'm sure she had plenty of wisdom to share. But I love that she knew how to listen. That's a rare gift, I think. Most of us can hear, but few of us actually listen.

I'll never forget the Harringtons' last Sunday at that little church. I cried and cried and cried. I remember standing upstairs in the hallway, sobbing, my dad nearly crying with me. It was one of the hardest good-byes I've ever had to say. She captured my young heart, and I miss her to this day.

Even though I can't remember her voice, her smile is forever etched in my memory. I will never be that quiet and sweet. God just didn't design me to be quiet. (Ask anyone who knows me.) But from Mrs. Harrington, I learned that listening and smiling is more important than talking. And that baking the perfect dinner rolls is a love language all its own.