Thursday, March 13, 2008

I MISS YOU CLARICE

I Miss my friend Clarice. Clarice Winbush Thousand. I can see her now. Tall, stately, a mess of silver hair worn as a crown, mouth open, smiling, or talking or fussing or praying or getting somebody told. Clarice was my friend. In many ways a role model, a mentor and a confidante. She was a mother and a big sister to me. I met Clarice Thousand 21 years ago. I was introduced to her on the phone. We spoke briefly and made a time and date to meet and visit a church in Western, Massachusetts. I didn't know what I was in for. Clarice was funny and comfortable to be around. She immediately started calling me Jim. I hate that nickname. I never allow anyone to call me that.....ever. I can't explain why but I allowed my new friend to call me......"Jim", ugh!

Clarice was, er... um, how can I say this...? Oh, okay, she was bossy; with a capital B. Initially, this proved volatile. I can be quite ah, um, directive, myself and not at all inclined to be told what to do. In the early stages of the development of our friendship we had many arguments. We argued about scripture, people we knew in common, social issues, religious beliefs and the time of the day. It was a part of our dynamic. She liked to argue and so did I. The hard part was that neither one of us wanted to be wrong. This eventuated several phone call hang ups and mutual bad tastes in respective mouths. Funny thing though we always came back to each other in love and mutual respect. I respected Clarice and she respected me.

Clarice and I were not close in age. Clarice was the same age as my deceased mother. In fact, My mother, Mary and Clarice had a similar vocal cadence. It felt familiar. Clarice had a habit of talking so long when she was making her point that she ran out of breath on the last few words and had to force them out. She and I had a simpatico that I am sure few understood. I started calling her "Motherfriend" and she started calling me her son. She also embraced my family. She became friends with Lynette. They had many tearful conversations about life as women in the ministry. Clarice was a great encourager to Lynette or "Annette" as she sometimes called her. She always inquired about my children and I inquired about her son, Jason.

Clarice was a real evangelist. I know this. Clarice never went anywhere without telling somebody that Jesus loved them. She did it by showing love. Clarice loved the people on the street. As she told me, one of the great frustrations of her life was her belief that the church had failed to reach out to the common person on the street. I had visited Clarice's home many times and observed her interactions with the residents of her very large apartment building. Clarice appeared to be the building chaplain and minister-at-large. She was the resource lady, the sunshine lady, the building counselor and the building mother and grandmother.

I had several hospitalizations over the years when she visited me and took over the care of her son by giving directions to the nurses and several doctors. If questioned, she replied with haught and clipped speech; "I am a retired nurse...when will you have this done?" It was too funny to watch her in action. Once while in the rehabilitation hospital in Cambridge, the city of Clarice's residence, I was on heavy pain medication. I tried all morning to pray but kept falling asleep. I couldn't gather my thoughts to pray. Lying flat on my back, the tears of frustration and pain ran down the sides of my face and disappeared into wet spots behind my ears. "LORD, I'm trying to pray and I can't. I'm trying to get to you and I can't , please help me." I drifted off to sleep. I was awakened by Clarice coming in to my room with gifts. She brought books, diabetic candy, tapes, and a portable communion set. She told me that she had planned to come and see me the following day but that GOD spoke to her and told her to come that day. Clarice was my intercessor that day. She prayed in my stead and then prayed for me. She served me communion and chastised the nurses for leaving me on my back for so long. Just what I needed.

When Clarice was hospitalized with a very serious block in her carotid artery I visited her the evening before the surgery. I brought her a book by her favorite author, Max Lucado, a card and some flowers. We talked and prayed and sang praise songs in her hospital room. I asked her if she was scared and she acknowledged some fear. We prayed together again. Clarice sent me home with , "I'll see you in the morning!" I worried all night whether she meant that in the literal sense or in the sense that so many faithful believers in Christ have used that phrase. I worried that I may have seen Clarice for the last time. I prayed for her and I cried at the thought of losing my close friend. Clarice pulled through and recovered. I later told her of my concern over her final words to me. We laughed and breathed a sigh of release that GOD had answered both of our prayers and the prayers of so many more her knew and loved Reverend Thousand, as she was known.

Clarice loved crafts. She loved to decorate and make things for people. She made baskets for special days and got joy out of making people happy. The year before she died I made a commitment to give Clarice money for gasoline for her car. Gas was expensive and she loved to drive and she deeply valued her independence. Clarice chastised me by telling me I didn't need to give her money so often. I told Clarice she was not in charge of my benevolence choices and to shut up and take the money. She smiled and we embraced, laughed and caught on on things, advised and encouraged one another. In her later years Clarice became a true source of encouragement. She visited my church, preached in my stead during illness, gave me her observations, and advised me wisely.

In the last few months of her life I became very aware that Clarice was not well. She was again hospitalized for retention of fluid. I questioned her about her kidney function since we were both diabetic. Clarice down played the correlation between her hospitalization and her kidney function to me. Deep in my heart I knew something was wrong but I wanted to believe otherwise; so I did. Soon after that, I saw Motherfriend in my office at my work place. Her countenance was very dark, her gait was unsteady and she seemed to struggle for breath. Again, I asked Clarice if she was really alright. She proclaimed her belief in GOD as a healer and tried to allay my concerns. She was not successful. I presented to Clarice the gift I had called her to receive. It was a large basket of items I had handmade especially for her. Much of it was in her favorite scent; Lavender. Clarice was so excited to receive the gift and the other little surprises tucked inside. Again, we talked for a very long time and we parted as always; embracing and professing our mutual love. Before she left she told me I needed to lose some weight. "I'm gonna tell Lynette not to even mess with you until you lose that belly!" She fell out laughing and walked down the hallway. That was the last time I saw Clarice. Lynette and I called her on her birthday and sang to her but I never heard from her again. I saw her again at her funeral but it really wasn't her. No animation, no humorous commentary. Even though it was Clarice's service. She was not in there; except in the hearts of those not as as those without hope. I am confident that I will see her again.
Clarice brought many things to my life and I hope I did the same. She once said to me, "Jim, that's why I like talking to you, I can be real with you and I know you won't judge me". Clarice gave me the same thing. Unconditional friendship. Love. In several conversations I had with people who with with Clarice in the final moments of her life I was told that in her semi-conscious state Clarice repeated these words: "Love is a verb, it's an action word. " I smiled at the recollection of these words. I'd heard Clarice say these words many times befoire. I recognized them as her own.

'Bye, Clarice..... I miss you Motherfriend. I'll see you in the morning.

Love,

Jim

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Dad,

That was a very good but sad story. You really expressed your feelings for your motherfriend. I know she would be proud. Let me rephrase that.... SHE is proud. ;)