"I love you Hun."

...Her deep raspy voice cackled out through the smoky haze as I left the room.

I smiled to myself and walked out to my car. Her beloved gardens were once again weed free, and her little porcelain figures all polished and perched in the red mulch. 

I had heard the latest of her family drama, had an argument about smoking, 

heard the latest on her aches and pains, and why it was the doctors fault she was a quadriplegic, 

and I had been well fed and watered. It was the same every time. 

Summer time was our favorite. We spent hours together in her gardens, trimming, 

weeding, hoeing, and raking. We planted and transplanted flowers and shrubs, and she taught

me all kinds of tricks to her trade. I did all the work. She sat in her wheelchair sassing the nurses

and telling me of the days before she was paralyzed. That women was capable of getting what 

ever she wanted. When Lenore spoke you did exactly what she said. No questions asked. But in all my years of knowing her, I heard her laugh exactly once.

 She seemed as dry as a cracker and twice as prickly as a cactus. 

And yet she had the most caring heart I've ever seen in a person. 

She always wanted to know how I was doing, how school was going, 

and what I thought about random issues of life. 

She told me bits and pieces of her story. Of her younger wilder years. 

Of how she raised the town trouble makers because the police brought them to her

to keep them out of jail. How she worked during the day and did school at night and

almost graduated Police School like that. "My boys turned out all right thanks to me" she

would say with a sharp nod of her head. 

She would send me home with clippings and plants and things. "Your mother is a Mennonite, they have gardens." she would say very determinedly. 

Summer passed and we raked and pulled up old plants and packed away her hundreds of 

figurines. With the snow, came her cancer. It wasn't a surprise. I mean she was so weakened

physically already, and she smoked non stop. But somehow it was still a blow. It only took weeks before her hair was gone and she was in bed, on IV.

Sunday, My dear friend Lenore lost her battle to cancer. 

It's so strange to think of my tiny, feisty, warrior not fighting anymore.  

This summer I'll be planting flowers in memory of that beautiful little woman. 

Because, I love you too, Hun. <3<3 

Will I see her again? Did I do everything I could or was I scared off by the fear of what 

it might mean to be on Lenore's bad side? 

I don't know. 

But I know that God loved the little lady on John St. more than I did. 

And He knows. 

P.s. Would you do me a favor and pray for John St, Drayton right now? 

It is full men and women just like Lenore. Souls who need Jesus. 

The world needs Jesus people. 

Go find your own John St.