December 23 always reminds me of the day when my elderly friend,
Raphaela Christopher, called me over for a special visit. She was a
great storyteller, and my mother and I often visited her after
church on Sunday afternoons. There she sat in her wheelchair with
her feet wrapped in bandages and propped up to help with poor
circulation.
December 23 always reminds me of the day when my elderly friend, Raphaela Christopher, called me over for a special visit. She was a great storyteller, and my mother and I often visited her after church on Sunday afternoons. There she sat in her wheelchair with her feet wrapped in bandages and propped up to help with poor circulation.
“Get me that roll of paper towels over there, my girl,” she motioned to her dresser. I brought them over to her and then she said, “Come closer, closer,” so I sat down near her and leaned in attentively to see what she wanted. Very slowly she peeled one paper towel from the roll. “I hear you are gettin’ married,” she said, in her German-tinged Panamanian accent. “I have somet’ing for you.” I couldn’t imagine what it might be because I knew she owned very little.
As she peeled off the top paper towel, she asked, “What is this?” She had been gradually losing her eyesight for some time. I leaned in closer to see what she was holding up, and I realized that in her hand was a $5 bill, not just a paper towel. So I told her what denomination it was.
“Okay,” she said, and I thought to myself, “Oh, she probably needs me to get her something at the store,” as my mother and I would sometimes do. But this time she handed the bill to me and said, “This is for you, for your wedding.” So I thought to myself, “How sweet; she wants to give me $5 as a wedding gift.” I knew that any amount had to be a sacrifice on her fixed income.
But then she unpeeled the next paper towel layer and said to me, “What is this one?”
“That’s a $10 bill,” I defined for her.
“Okay,” she said and added that bill to the one in my hand.
“This too?” I wondered, and she nodded.
“Where did you get all this?” I asked, as I realized she had carefully laid each of many bills one by one between the layers of towels for safekeeping – she didn’t entirely trust those she was living with and this way she would know right where the money was located.
“I been settin’ it aside a little at a time out of my checks,” she explained, “Each month I save what I can; who would think of lookin’ in a roll of paper towels?”
She unpeeled the next towel and repeated the process, and I watched in surprise as she put several $1, $5, and $10 bills into my hand, and then a $20 bill.
“I been given so much since I come to live in this country. I am much grateful. I been savin’ this for your wedding,” she said, “I want you to have it, my girl.” When she had finished laying the bills out, they added up to a total of $100, a fortune on her fixed income.
That $100 gift from the heart meant more to me than all the other fancy wedding gifts of china, crystal, and silver combined. Raphaela is gone from this world now, but I will never forget the Christmas when a housebound widow from Panama taught me an unforgettable lesson in generosity.
