By Nancy Patrick

As I sat on my canopied swing in the backyard one Saturday morning in May, the soft breeze gently ruffled the leaves on the three-year-old burr oak tree near me. Another three-year-old tree, a Chinese Pistache, grows across the yard from the burr oak.

Both trees are doing amazingly well for our Texas climate. We had to plant them three years ago to replace the two gigantic Arizona ash trees killed by the 2021 lethal weather we experienced. Several people in the area actually died during our time when the power failed for multiple days.

Mike and I spent those days with no electricity or water. I had undergone bi-lateral knee replacements three weeks before and actually thought I might not survive the freeze. (Mike says I exaggerate, but I really suffered as many others did.)

As I have shared before, following the knee replacements I had a series of spinal injuries with surgeries and procedures required. As someone plagued by depression, I sank into a pretty dismal mire of negativity.

That particular Saturday morning, though, I had come across a stack of cards held together by a rubber band and stuck in the back of a desk drawer. I had no idea what comprised that stack, so I brought it to the swing with me. I counted forty-seven cards from many different writers.

Our church has several groups who dedicate themselves to praying for our membership. The church provides post cards for these prayer warriors to write encouraging words to those of us who might find our spiritual wells rather dry.

The writers of the blessings on the cards created original and heart-felt comments.

The writers mention particular ailments and add personal words of encouragement or prayer.

Wayne, one of the writers, walks his dog Danny in our neighborhood. Danny has beautiful, fluffy auburn hair and has a crush on our dog Gracie. Wayne sent multiple messages that included Danny’s thoughts about Gracie.

Another fellow who wrote several cards had a wife at home going through chemotherapy to treat breast cancer. I couldn’t believe he took time to pray for me.

Another card came from a friend’s sister in another city. She simply wanted to commiserate with me because she has the same physical issues I do. How kind is that!

A group of my friends in an exercise class frequently sent cards signed by all. They even put together a blessing jar to cheer me. They decorated the Mason jar and  stuffed it with little notes of love and encouragement.

And I have one more very special prayer warrior. Phyllis, a ninety-year-old widow, currently lives in El Paso’s veterans’ nursing home. She has endured hardships I have managed to elude. Two of her three adult children died, one from an illness, another by suicide. Her husband died of Covid, leaving her alone in Abilene.

Her surviving son, who lives near the El Paso facility, facilitated her admission into that veterans’ home because Phyliss’ husband, a retired Air Force colonel, qualified her for veterans’ benefits.

While Phyliss lived next to me, we developed a rather special friendship—somewhat like a mother-daughter one. Not only does she make sure we stay in touch via mail, but she also sends me little mementos from her arts and craft class.

Phyliss inspires me. She did not put up a fuss when her son said the time had come for her to move. Her compliance and attitude impress me as it completely differs from my experience with my own family.

I am thankful for that Saturday morning’s peace and serenity. I am thankful that I found that stash of cards. I also appreciate the kindness of so many people.

Our high-speed, AI (artificial intelligence) fueled society encourages negative and disheartened attitudes. They promote competition and hatred. My friends have shown me that kindness paves a smoother path to God than discord.

Nancy Patrick is a retired teacher who lives in Abilene and enjoys writing