THE YELLOW SHIRT
The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed
in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but
still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college on
Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away.
“You're not taking that old thing, are you?" Mom said when she saw me packing the
yellow shirt. "I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!"
"It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom.
Thanks!"
I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object.
The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After
graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on
Saturday mornings when I cleaned.
The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt
during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we
were in Colorado and they were in Illinois. But that shirt helped. I smiled,
remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15 years
earlier.
That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given
me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom.
When Mom wrote to thank me for her "real" gifts, she said the yellow shirt was
lovely. She never mentioned it again.
The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick
up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed!
something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt!
And so the pattern was set.
On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's
mattress. I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two
years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room
floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing
furniture. The walnut stains added character.
In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, prepared to
move back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered
if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through
the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, "So use every piece of
God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over,
you will be standing up." I tried to picture myself wearing God's armor, but all I
saw was the stained yellow shirt. Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's
love a piece of God's armor? My courage was renewed.
Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother.
The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.
Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I
discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet. Something new
had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the
words "I BELONG TO PAT."
Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an
apostrophe and seven more letters. Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, "I
BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER." But I didn't stop there. I zig-zagged ! all the frayed
seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from
Arlington, VA. We enclosed an official looking letter from "The Institute for the
Destitute," announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good
deeds. I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box. But,
of course, she never mentioned it.
Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and
I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the
wedding, While my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow
in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped
in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a note: "Read John
14:27-29. I love you both, Mother."
That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses:
"I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give
isn't fragile like the peace the world gives. So don't be troubled or afraid.
Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you
again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to
the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they
happen so that when they do, you will believe in me."
The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she
had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age 57.
I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I'm glad
I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I
played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in
art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets! .
“Lotus Totus”
ONE. Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.
TWO. Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their
conversational skills will be as Important as any other.
THREE. Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you
want.
FOUR. When you say, "I love you," mean it.
FIVE. When you say, "I'm sorry," look the person in the eye.
SIX. Be engaged at least six months before you get married.
SEVEN. Believe in love at first sight.
EIGHT. Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't
have much.
NINE. Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only
way to live life completely.
TEN.. In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling.
ELEVEN. Don't judge people by their relatives
TWELVE. Talk slowly but think quickly.
TH! IRTEEN. When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer,
smile and ask, "Why do you want to know?"
FOURTEEN. Remember that great love and great achievements involve great
risk.
FIFTEEN. Say "bless you" when you hear someone sneeze.
SIXTEEN. When you lose, don't lose the lesson
SEVENTEEN. Remember the three R's: Respect for self; Respect for others;
and Responsibility for all your actions.
EIGHTEEN. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
NINETEEN. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to
correct it.
TWENTY. Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your
voice.
TWENTY-ONE. Spend some time alone.
A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.
