Phil and I set up our chairs and unfurled our blanket at Little League field number four. We were there to watch the Defenders face the Hornets. Just as we settled, a fellow parent told us we were actually at field three. “We’ll just sit here while the boys warm up and then we’ll move” Phil said. Phil and I were chatting when I became distracted by someone near me fiddling with her chair. “May I sit here?” she asked. “Of Course,” I said “but we are only going to be here a few more minutes; we are at the wrong field.”
As if she hadn’t heard anything I said, she began; “My name is Mavis. My husband is a score keeper so I spend lots of time on the ball field.” I offered a polite “hmmm” and she continued. What in sued was a brief history of all things “Mavis.” She told me where she was from, how many siblings she had, where she was in the birth order and why she liked it, what her parents did for a living, when they died, how she met her husband, where she has worked over the years, where her husband worked, how many children they had, the names of their children, the names of their children’s spouses, the names of their children’s pets, the name of her favorite laundry soap, …whew! By the time her soliloquy drew to a close, I even knew her favorite dessert and brand of bra!
I’ll admit, I was not sorry we were about to move to ball field three. She was a sweet lady; clearly elderly and eccentric. She was colorful and not self aware at all! She was obviously seeking someone to entertain her by their dutiful listening or soothe her loneliness by just offering “hmmm” and proximity. But, she was draining and I arrived empty. My agenda was pretty obvious by the contents of my bag; C. S. Lewis audio book and dark chocolate…I was planning to sneak the ear bud into my ear, hide the chocolate under my blanket and stare at the field where the Defenders played all the while listening to “Reflections on the Psalms.” My plan was to clap when Phil clapped and hoop and howl when he did as to hide my real activities! I had no intention to engage anyone or anything except C. S. Lewis and Ghirardelli during this game.
I was tired and this was my time to relax. I did not anticipate Mavis. But, seldom do we anticipate angels.
I clued in quickly that even if I wanted to ignore her, it would be impossible for she had just announced that she brought her “craft bag” and told us we “looked crafty!” Phil chuckled in disbelief. “You’re the age of my son,” she reprimanded, “he’s not too old to do crafts with his Mother and neither are you.” With that pronouncement, she passed my 45 year old husband some tissue. “We are going to make babies in a blanket. Now,” she explained with gravity,” my Uncle Seth used to do this with a real handkerchief. Did I tell you he was my favorite uncle? He was in the Army and used to amuse me as a little girl with this skill. You are never too old to make babies in a blanket.”
Phil and I were both in incredulity. A woman we have never met is making us do crafts with her while we sit on the wrong ball field! She instructed how to fold. Step by step, she demonstrated, we followed suit. Within a few minutes and several intricate folds, we held babies in a blanket. Before the final fold however, she said; “Oh, pardon me, sometimes I just break out in song.” And, she did. “He’s still working on me…” the old Gaither tune bellowed from deep in her soul. She looked at me and said, “You know it, don’t you?” How did she know I knew it? She was right. I knew it.
“Sing with me” she insisted. So, I sang. “…it took Him just a week to make the moon and stars, sun and the moon and Jupiter and Mars…” she was positively gleeful that she had found a singing buddy and I was positively embarrassed. Phil whispered as if he were a ventriloquist; “People are watching.” Swallowing my pride, I decided to focus on Mavis rather than myself thinking the song was almost over. But, as soon as it ended, she dove into “The Longer I Serve Him, the Sweeter He Grows.” “Great,” I thought, “I know that one too.” She pressed her elbow against mine as if to say, “Keep singing” so I did.
I couldn’t believe I was singing a duet with a flamboyant, slightly off-pitch and very loud stranger on the ball field. But something about the words and the way she sang so sincerely made me appreciate the odd woman who had fastened herself to us. Mavis clapped her hands with pride. “Well done!” she exclaimed. Since “craft time and “singing time” were finished, Phil started to pick up his chair and tell Mavis we needed to go watch our son play on field three.
We hugged her good bye and giggled in disbelief as we walked away. “I can’t believe you sang” Phil said. “I can’t believe you made babies in a blanket Mr. PhD!” I retorted. Within minutes, we resettled at field four. Phil went to buy some Gatorade and suckers. I sensed someone was approaching and just as I took Lewis out of my ear I heard, “Aren’t you the lady I sang with?” I told her I was and she told me she was going to get her chair and sit by us.
When Phil returned, there was Mavis. She pulled out the craft bag again to make “boats” and Phil had to try to help her understand we really wanted to watch our son play ball not make boats. She didn’t understand. So, Phil made a sail boat with Mavis. It was a good thing we had boats now because the sky was growing dark and beginning to mist! The horizon looked like a Noah size flood was imminent.
Phil pulled out an umbrella and Mavis scooted her chair close to mine. Phil covered us both with the umbrella protecting us from the rain. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. The game was called. It began to pour. Hail was pelting Phil’s back and our umbrella. “Mavis, we must get shelter” Phil insisted. “I’ll be fine” she said. "No, come with us” Phil said as he grabbed our chairs. “I will,” she agreed and gathered her craft bag and chair to follow us. We moved with the throng of ball fans to the concession stand for cover. I kept asking Phil where Mavis was. He couldn’t find her. “She’s fine” he assured me, “she has a boat.”
But, my heart was connected to Mavis. Yes, she was odd, but she was brave. She was brave enough to be herself, celebrate herself and forget herself. Standing with moist jeans under the concession stand listening to raindrops ping against the metal roof, warm, melodic thoughts ran through my mind; “The longer I serve Him, the sweeter He grows. The more that I love Him, more love He bestows. Each day is like Heaven, my heart overflows; the longer I serve Him the sweeter He grows.”
Was Mavis a real angel? I don’t know. But this I know. If an angel’s role is to do the bidding of God and bring Him glory, Mavis was an angel…because she did both. She reminded me how to love people more than myself and she certainly showed forth the beauty, simplicity and benefit of God’s Love.
I love C. S. Lewis and dark chocolate, but neither would have been satisfying that day compared to what I received by giving time and attention to Mavis. I may have arrived empty, but I left filled.
“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” Hebrews 13:2
