Special story written by Mom L.

I know I've given you a lot to read about today, but I have this story that Mom wrote that I think is really sweet. She wrote it about a memory she has of another special woman she knew over 50 years ago. I've been saving it so I can share it with others on my blog, & I think her birthday is a good day to do it. So without further ado . . .

When I was six years old, my best friend was a red-haired, freckle-faced tomboy named Penny. One August afternoon, as we were trying to decide whether to roller-skate or play hopscotch, we were greeted by Mrs. Clarke. She lived across the street from us and had been my father's Sunday School teacher when he was a child. Sometimes she'd make me giggle with her memories of his not-so-reverent antics.

She was an ample woman and wore her grey hair in an old-fashioned bun. She had rosy cheeks and her eyes twinkled behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her voice was rich and deep and she spoke with an endearing lisp.

She leaned heavily on her cane asking if we would help her. She explained that she had not been playing her piano and thought if we would accompany her with our singing it would help her practice. She said she had gotten "rusty." I didn't notice any rust, but got my Mom's "okay" and we followed Mrs. Clarke.

Her parlor was filled with beautiful over-stuffed and dark carved wood furniture generously topped with lots of lace doilies. Penny and I perched ourselves on either side of this great lady seated on the polished piano bench. She took a book with gold letters on its cover and began to leaf through the pages. When she found just the right one, she smiled. Propping the book on a little ledge, she began to play. The music was beautiful and I marveled as her plump fingers danced lightly across the yellowed keyboard.

Suddenly she stopped and asked why we weren't singing along. Embarrassed I confessed that we couldn't read many words beyond those found in our First Grade Primer. Nodding knowingly and without a hint of amusement Mrs. Clarke set out to tackle the problem. Word by word, with much patience, she taught us to memorize the words of the entire song. Once or twice she offered us her delicious lemonade. When we could recite all the words, she felt we were ready to actually sing them.

Mrs. Clarke played the introduction then nodded her head. Penny and I belted out the words we'd learned with such enthusiasm many in the neighborhood must have heard us.

How wonderful I thought it sounded--our high-pitched six-year-old voices and the magic sound coming from Mrs. Clarke's piano!

When the song was over we looked to her for approval. She broke into a broad grin and said, "That was truly lovely." Penny and I looked at each other and we couldn't help grinning too!

And so it was I learned "What A Friend We Have In Jesus."

As the summer wore on we learned other hymns, drank more lemonade, and enjoyed the companionship of our dear Mrs. Clarke. But to this day when I sing "What A Friend We Have In Jesus," part of me becomes six years old again."