Jody




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" January 2, 2003 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com ----------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart" You are receiving this free newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. To subscribe send a blank e-mail to subscribe@write2theheart.com. ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------ After reading today's story, I am left with the impression that love and compassion run deep in Pamela's household. ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------ Can Jody Talk? By Pamela Jenkins ------------------------------------------------------------- We first became acquainted with Miss Lilly through a visitation program in our new church. We had just moved to a rural community, and we felt this would be a great way to make new friends. Miss Lilly was homebound and we were told that she enjoyed having people come to visit her. "It's best if you call her first, though," advised our minister with a smile. "Lilly doesn't see very well, and she likes to know who comes knocking at her door." A visit was arranged, and we drove over to her modest home on the edge of town. When we knocked at the screen door, we heard the excitement in her voice when she called to us to come in. We found her sitting on the sofa in her living room, a tiny frail lady with white halo of hair. The television was tuned to a game show and the volume was high. As she fumbled with the remote control to lower the sound, we realized that Miss Lilly was blind. In spite of her physical handicaps, Miss Lilly had a bright outlook on life. She loved to visit with people, in person or on the telephone. She had an endearing way of speaking her mind. Although she was a widow and had no children, Miss Lilly had a constant companion in her life. Jody had lived with Miss Lilly for many years. The pretty piebald cockatiel was her pride and joy. He loved to sit near Miss Lilly so they could talk and sing together. There was a special bond between the elderly woman and her feathered friend. We frequently visited Miss Lilly and Jody over the next few years. We enjoyed the visits as much as they did. Often, Miss Lilly would call me on the telephone just to pass the time of day. In the background, I would hear Jody's singing. One day while driving home from work, my husband passed the little home on the edge of town. He saw a crowd of people at the front door. An ambulance with lights flashing was parked in the driveway. My husband pulled over to the side of the road and hurried through the front gate and up the steps to her porch. Miss Lilly had fallen from her wheelchair and had a broken shoulder. She was strapped down on a stretcher and was being carried out of the front door. My husband leaned over her and said, "Miss Lilly, it's Stan. Is there anything I can do for you?" "Oh, I'm so glad you're here," she said in a trembling voice. "Please take my Jody home with you! I can't leave my Jody here all alone." My husband assured her that the bird would be in good hands until she returned home and was ready to take him back. The first few days in our home, Jody didn't make a sound. He was used to lots of noise and visitors, but we could tell that he was out of his environment and was missing his owner. About a week after Miss Lilly went into the hospital, we got a phone call from her. She was being moved to a nearby nursing home, and wanted to check on her bird. "Can Jody talk?" she asked. I answered her honestly, that Jody didn't seem to have much to say since he came to be with us. He was being very quiet. "No," she said patiently, "I mean, can Jody come to the phone?" "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't understand, of course Jody can talk to you!" I held the telephone out to the perch Jody sat on. I said, "Jody, you have a call." For the next few minutes, Jody listened with his topknot standing at attention while Miss Lilly spoke to him through the receiver. He seemed to recognize the voice coming through the strange thing I held in my hands, although he didn't quite understand what it was all about. That was the first of many phone calls Jody received while living with us. Miss Lilly would call from her room in the nursing home. She would ask how I was doing, about the children, and we would talk about other things. But always, before we hung up, she would ask, "Can Jody talk?" After a while, Jody would whistle and chirp back to the telephone. I could hear Miss Lilly laugh when he told her that he was being a "pretty boy". We never knew how old Jody was. Miss Lilly was his second owner, and she told us that he had lived with her about ten years. He spent another six years in our home, becoming part of our family. Miss Lilly and Jody each passed away peacefully just a few days apart. It was a sad time for our family, as we had come to love both of them. I miss the visits and telephone conversations with my good friend. I also miss hearing Jody's cheerful whistle when I walk into a room. I am comforted, though, by the thought that somewhere up in heaven, a little lady and her cockatiel have been reunited at last. Pamela Jenkins ramblinrabbit @ juno.com (You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story, just remember to remove the space before and after the @ symbol. The space is placed in the address to protect our writers from viruses and email harvesting programs. Have a comment on today's story? Send it to: moderator@write2theheart.com) ---------------------------------------------------------------- Pamela Jenkins lives on a farm in Oklahoma with her husband of twenty-two years and their four children. She is a co-author of several books including "Chocolate for a Woman's Dreams", "Written in Stone" and "Chicken Soup for the Grandparent's Soul". -------------------------------------------------------------- Letters From Our Readers -------------------------------------------------------------- Bob Shaw's story about the sheltie Seiko reminded me of several abused ferrets that I've taken in over the years: the pain I felt in sensing their painful fear. I literally let them sleep with me until the day came when I could reach for him or her and he or she would no longer cringe as they flattened themselves to the floor in an effort to disappear. And, isn't that exactly how an abused child feels. No wonder they often pray that God not let them awake the next morning. Wonderful story, Bob: so heartfelt and so full of a great message to all of us. Lots of love in Christ~~ Bonita M Quesinberry,author of "TODAY, JESUS SAID" ***** I loved the story by Bob Shaw about the little dog, Seiko. It's so nice to see a story like this with a happy ending. Truly tugs at the heartstrings! Pamela Jenkins --------------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner Two of my grandsons helped me plant Iris and Calla Lilly bulbs in the back yard this morning. We became gloriously muddy. I let them decide where the different colors should go. Of course you can't dig in my backyard without keeping an eye out for worms. The younger one did a great job rescuing them from the shovel. Our dog Rejin no longer takes her blanket out of the laundry room. The dog behind us moved. I hope he has a friend in his new location that is as faithful as Rejin has been to him. Well, it's that time again. Tim is leaving for Mississippi State. Right after his dad and I prayed for Him he left to finalize his registration. He will be too far away to pop home every weekend. I sure will miss him. Is it too early to convert his room to a craft room? God Bless, Cheryl ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- © 2002 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.