Mrs. Jones

It seems like just a short while ago that we were having Sunday dinner at her dining room table.  Mrs. Jones, a most capable and gracious hostess, had invited us over for lunch for the first time.  My Mom, Dad, my sister Marilyn and I had no idea just what kind of delightful meal was in store.

But we quickly found out that her gift for hospitality was extraordinary.  Her home was the closest thing to a Southern Living cover photo.  The food that came from her kitchen was absolutely divine.  And her living room exuded comfort and beauty, the likes of which I had never seen.

Before or since I have never met someone with the gift of welcoming people to their home, not like Mrs. Jones.  She was a role model of grace and kindness to all who came through her front door.

At 16, I didn’t know what to think.  During those first moments in her home, I didn’t know her well and it was a bit overwhelming.   Well, there we sat at the table, that Sunday afternoon, she served the food and asked my dad to say the blessing.  As we quieted our hearts, and the room fell silent for dad’s prayer, there was a rumbling.  It was a gurgling not unlike someone’s stomach makes when they are hungry.

It grew louder and louder as Dad prayed.  And me, my shoulders began to shake violently, trying not giggle.  What would our sophisticated hostess think of a teenage girl laughing during a prayer?  My efforts spread to my sister, and as my Dad finished the blessing, we could not help it and burst into peels of loud laughter.

Both of us girls were sure it was my Mom’s stomach growling that we had heard…  and although we could barely say it for all our giggling, Mrs. Jones began to laugh as well, while my Mom denied it completely.  When we all caught our breath, Mrs. Jones confirmed that indeed it was the coffee pot brewing that had made the loud groaning, not my Mom.

Every time we had a meal at her home we recounted that first Sunday dinner with fondness.

The whole experience brought our relationship with Mrs. Betty Jones into quite an honest and authentic place.   Her efforts and her desires to serve people with grace and kindness and make every visitor at home were engrained in my heart and mind.  I have never met another like her, and I don’t suppose I ever will.

For a wedding gift,  Betty Jones sent me one of her cups and saucers from her best set of china.  How I will treasure that always as a reminder of what hospitality, servanthood and humor truly is.

Mrs. Jones went to be with Jesus a few days ago.   I’m so grateful for the hope of Heaven – for the knowledge that I will see her again and we will share in that same sweet laughter together.