By putting love into action to lend a helping hand, I find that I am blessed | Opinion

The capacity of the heart to love simply amazes me. A mother can have a dozen children and yet love each child as if she were the only child. It doesn’t matter if the child is biological or not. A loving heart just embraces the child and surrounds it with love.

I, like many of you, have experienced this in many ways.

When my first son was born, I didn’t think I could ever love another child as much. But then, I had a second son, and the love flowed as freely as it did with my first son. My sons grew up and gave me grandchildren and it seemed that my heart would burst at the seams with love for each of them.

Now, my grandchildren are giving me great-grandchildren. Do I have to tell you how I feel about these little human beings? The love just keeps on growing and I have learned recently that love shows up where you would least expect it.

About two years ago, as I was about to take my annual trip to see my New York family, my godson Greg, who is legally blind, asked if he could stay in my house while I was away. I thought it was a good idea and said yes. Greg and my late son Rick were close friends. In fact when they were growing up he was like a third son, often stopping by in the morning on the way to school and having breakfast with me and the boys. He soon “adopted” me as his godmother. I was delighted.

I learned something about love back then. It is unselfish.

Sharing meals as bonds grew

One morning Greg stopped by to walk with the boys to school. Rick pulled me aside in the kitchen and whispered: “Mom, can Greg have something to eat with us?” I nodded “Yes”, and a smiling Rick invited Greg to the breakfast table. It was the first of many meals that Greg shared with us. I found myself buying extra bacon and eggs when shopping, just in case... I wasn’t aware of how things were at Greg’s house. But I knew he was one of five siblings and money might have been a little tight. It was with me, too, but I managed.

That morning, I was never more proud of Rick. What he didn’t know was that I didn’t eat breakfast that morning because I gave up my plate so Greg could eat. Not eating didn’t bother me. I knew that once I got to work at One Herald Plaza, I could pick up a cup of coffee and a pastry from the company cafeteria. I didn’t want it to be on my conscience that perhaps Greg went to school hungry that day.

We grew to love Greg like he was a part of the family, and he really was. There were proms and football games, sharing of clothes and lots of teasing Shawn, who was the family nerd. And there was a lot of laughter. And some tears, when one of Greg’s biological brothers died of pneumonia when he was only 19.

Seasons came and went. Rick and Greg grew into young adults and graduated from high school. Rick entered Miami Dade Community College, while Greg went to work for the city of Miami. They left Shawn behind to tread the waters as a sophomore at Carol City Senior High.

The following years brought about more change, as they do. The boys were now men and the fun and games had merged into real life. Greg got married first and Rick followed suit, marrying Debra two years later. He was 24.

When their children were teenagers, Greg and Stephanie got divorced. He would find love again, in Bess Lynndora. It was a love that Greg didn’t think he would ever experience again. They moved to Philadelphia, and later to Savannah and bought a house. Bess Lynn surprised Greg with a new car. “We had a good life, Mom,” Greg said.

But fate would be unkind to Greg once more.

He suffered a stroke. And then another, which left him totally blind in one eye and barely able to see in the other. Bess Lynndora gave him loving care. In 2018, Bess Lynndora suffered an aneurysm and died.

Greg was devastated. Blind and alone (his mom had died several years earlier of Alzheimer’s), he moved in with one of his sons. The house was crowded, and Greg shared a room with his three young grandsons, sleeping on the bottom of a bunk bed, while the youngsters slept on the top bunk.

On the day Greg asked me if he could stay in my house while I was away, I was not aware of his living arrangements at his son’s house. He was welcome to stay at my house. He knew his way around and he knew how to use the microwave oven to heat food. Harry and Dan, Rick’s other close friends, would check on him.

A difficult decision

It wasn’t until I came home from New York, that Greg wanted to know if he could come live with me.

To be honest, I didn’t think it would work. I felt that Greg would be like an adult child that I would have to care for. I was free to pick up and take off whenever I wanted to. I didn’t want to be responsible to anyone else. After all, here I am in my 80’s. “No way,” I said to myself. But just as I was saying “No”, it seemed that God was saying, “You can do this; it’s what Rick would want you to do.”

Since Rick died and Shawn was living nearly a thousand miles away, Greg, Harry, and Dan always saw to it that I was safe. When I was out of town, they checked on the house. If a hurricane was threatening, they came and boarded up my windows, with Greg doing whatever he could to help.

So now it was my turn to put my love into action.

One great big circle

In late December of 2019, Greg moved in with me. The house I now live in was my mother’s. I had bought the house in 1971 and later deeded it to Mom when I bought another house and moved with my two sons. I came back here in 1996, to care for Mom after she suffered a debilitating stroke that left her bedridden.

Greg and I cleared out one of the bedrooms that had been Shawn’s as a boy, and later served as a sewing and “catch-all” room once I moved back in to care for Mom. One of my church deacons put down a new tile floor, and one of Greg’s daughters painted the room. I bought a new mattress and box spring set. One of my goddaughters was selling her mom’s house and gave us a dresser, chest, two night tables and two lamps. I bought a blue striped spread with matching valances. Greg now has his own room and as much privacy as he wants.

And me? I couldn’t love Greg any more if I had given birth to him. He really is my son.

I know that I am a blessing to him. But by listening to the voice of the Lord, I have been blessed, too.

That’s the thing about love: It is like one great big circle. It just keeps on going ‘round and ‘round.

Bea L. Hines can be reached at bea.hines@gmail.com.