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Green glasses: That’s what I remember most about Lyda. Not a pale green, but a deep emerald shade that gave her a Wizard of Oz quality. Glasses so green and so dark, you could barely make out the shadows of her eyes, and with those spectacles came her remarkable quality that was not spoken, but understood: to deeply and knowingly see into your heart.
Lyda was a woman who came along to give my mom a break from five chaotic children. She would whisk me, the youngest, away, out of my mom’s hair and into an oasis of quiet calm. Her home smelled of talcum powder and tranquility, if that could be a smell. She was always adorned with crocheted vests, beret-style caps or sometimes headbands, all of which she had made herself.
She was a light-hearted Christian woman who shared her faith in easy ways that made you want to hear more. Lyda taught me many things, mostly about believing in myself and a deep unspoken richness of faith below it all. I remember her now and see the blessings - the words, the gifts, the Bible stories, the encouraging books - all small seeds planted to instill the light of possibilities within me.
Lyda’s lessons were simple ones, and only later did I understand their profound meaning. One memory that stays with me is my fear of the dark. After I refused to go to sleep alone, Lyda knowingly placed a cross night-light by my bed. It glowed a lovely violet and I felt a safeness in its warmth. She explained that, in the dark we can see our faith even more brightly.
As I became an adult, Lyda continued to be my greatest champion, expecting the best of me, believing in it before I thought it possible. And again, she maintained that remarkable quality of seeing into the depth of one’s soul. Maybe it was those green glasses, or that she was an angel placed to shape my heart: There was always a sense of deep and abiding love about her that continues to stay with me.
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My invitation to you is to be a Lyda. The world needs more light and more people to find and develop the greatness in each other. We all struggle in life and we all have messy, complicated lives. It’s the Lydas that help us go on and believe that we can do it, that we are capable.
Be the one who sees -
deeply sees -
the loving qualities of the people in your midst.
My Lyda is gone, but the spirit of her lives on. In my life, I seek to create a sense of my own community, surrounded with people that take on “Lyda-like” qualities, the ones that see what they love best about me and have no problems reminding me when I need it.
Go for the people that raise your standards, go for the ones that tell you often of your best traits. If you don’t like your family, create a new one. Look for adoring and encouraging individuals in your church, community or work. They are there when you take the time to look.
You will know you have found the encouragers by the lightness and the joy they reflect when you spend time with them. Your soul sings, you feel lighter, energized, you treasure your time with them. They are your Lydas.
Be a Lyda to someone who needs it, whether it’s a small child, a mom who needs a break or a neighbor who needs someone to listen. I will never forget the lovely gift Lyda gave to me. My hope is that someone, someday will share my story in their lifetime and the blessing I was. I think the greatest joy we can give anyone is to deeply see them - wholly and lovingly - with grace and unconditional love.
Cara McLauchlan, a writer and mom, grew up in a small farm town in Michigan. She is the author of The Portable Red Hot Momma - a purse sized guide of vivacious thoughts and ideas. To find more of her writings, visit her blog "Joy Goggles" at www.joygoggles.blogspot.com. Cara currently resides in North Carolina and can be reached at cara@crankymommies.com
This article first appeared in NC Journal for Women, April ‘05
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