Just for a Season
Sometimes people are in our life just for a season, but they can leave their love with us in unforgettable ways. Three people did this for me during the month of January 1983.
Snow had fallen at least a half-foot deep, and the neighborhood of beautiful older homes had narrow walkways that been shoveled up to their front doors. In the middle of the block was the home we were visiting.
We’d just driven 100 miles from our farm.
My husband parked the car along the curb, grabbed our suitcase, and I let him go up the steps first—I was nervous meeting this couple for the first time—and spending the weekend.
The door opened after a single knock and a friendly woman answered and ushered us in. “Oh, Tom, it’s so good to see you after all this time! And this must be Karen.” Her smile was as authentic as her genuine welcome.
Virginia, and her husband, Bill sat across from us in their living room that looked out along the tree-lined street in Spokane. The chitchat pleasantries quickly melted my anxiety, and we were able to share about how our daughter, born two months early, was doing in the hospital.
We’d had to go back to work, but our daughter remained in the intensive care unit. This couple—old friends of the family that had moved away years ago—offered to have us stay every weekend until we could take our baby home.
Bill and Virginia could see we were in a scary, challenging season, but so were they. Bill’s cancer treatment had failed, and Virginia had taken a leave of absence from work —so they could be together for the time they had left. I’ve always remembered what Bill said, “It’s about the quality of time I have left, not the quantity.”
They lived this fully. Each weekend they were playing board games together when we got back from a full day at the hospital. They always looked forward to our visits and wanted to hear everything—as Virginia said, “We’re getting the joy grandparents must feel.”
Then there was Debbie. She was the confident, capable, exceedingly kind neonatal intensive care nurse assigned to our daughter. She knew these little babies needed love—and that’s what she did for twelve hours a day.
Debbie asked me about my life and over those long January days, I shared my deepest fears—being able to care for my preemie. I didn’t know what to do.
Besides telling me how to care for my baby, she came beside me and literally guided my hands while I performed the tasks.
As we prepared to leave the hospital Debbie said, “God knew you were the right mother for your girl. That doesn’t mean you’ll be perfect; it means you have all the love you need. And you do.”
Debbie’s comfort lasted long after I got home with our baby.
Three people, without much more than a bit of time and love, breathed into my life, and made a lasting impact that I still remember today.
May 2025 bring opportunities to return the favor to others—even if it’s just for a season.
