A Legacy of Living In Love

Pouring From An Oversized Cup

I had a dream the other night. I dreamt I saw a dear friend of mine walking along the sidewalk. So naturally, I stopped to give her a ride. She sat in the passenger seat, and we began to talk without skipping a beat. Finally, after a short drive, we arrived at her home, but the door was locked, and she didn’t seem to have a key.

I could hear her daughter talking inside the house, so I knocked on the door, wondering why my friend hadn’t thought to knock herself. Although I was greeted by a big, beautiful smile, there was no doubt that her daughter was surprised to see me.

As she opened the door to invite me in, her mother went inside ahead of me. I entered the living room and noticed some changes to the decor. I was a little puzzled when I looked out of the living room window in my dream and suddenly realized why my friend had not knocked on the door herself. I realized my dear friend Alice passed away a little over a year ago.

I woke up to a wet pillow and an endless flow of tears. And as I tried to calm myself down, my mind began to wander.

I first met my husband in August of our eighth-grade year. By January, we were an official couple. (Whatever that could mean to two 13-year-old teenagers).

He had a large family, as did I. Although they gathered at every opportunity they could, I still did not know everyone well. In fact, I really only knew his parents, siblings, and his younger cousins—none of his elders. Everyone else was just a courteous hello.

When we graduated high school, we spent a year away at college and then began our own family. In the process, we no longer attended his family’s Sunday Volleyball games or any other gatherings.

One day in November of 1999, the phone rang, and the caller ID read Russell Gray. Hesitant, I answered, not recognizing the name. (I later discovered that Russell Gray was the same man I knew only as Mr. Russ).

“Hello, Letty? This is Alice. How are you guys doing?”

“Hello,” I said, astonished and feeling somewhat out of sorts. “We’re doing fine.”

“That’s good,” she commented. “How are the babies?”

Babies indeed. My newly born daughter was less than four months old, and my son was 19 months old.

“They’re good,” I said, not having developed my conversational skills for awkward moments yet.

“Good,” she voiced and began with a more assertive tone. “I was wondering if you would be interested in watching Nathan for me for a few hours on Thursday. But, of course, it’s okay to say no. I know it’s hard to watch more than one baby at a time, but I just thought I would ask,” she clarified.

She was right. Was it humanly possible to care for my two children and her 2-year-old? Three children, all under 28 months old, and keep them alive? Yikes, the task was daunting. Ludicrous even.

So naturally and respectfully, I had to decline, except I didn’t.

I am a people pleaser, and one of my giftings is to be of help.

So I said, “Yes, of course. We’d love that.”

And it turns out we did. We all did.

Alice showed up at my door with very few instructions. He was potty training but may need to be changed at times.

Not a problem, I thought to myself. I change about a million diapers a day between my two children; what’s a couple more?

I was prepared for a hectic day. But to my surprise, it worked out well. Nathan had kept Kevin company so well that I fed my daughter in peace for the first time.

Nathan attended preschool until 11 a.m., and Alice brought him over around 11:15 a.m. He and my son Kevin played the entire afternoon. Nathan was exploring the playroom filled with toys, and my son was happy to share everything inside and outside those four walls.

They came out for lunch and then again for a snack. And twice, I prompted Nathan to try to use the restroom as a gentle potty training reminder.

Before I knew it, Alice arrived at my door asking how it went. She seemed tired, but her eyes grew big when I reported how easy it was. Then, as I turned to retrieve Nathan’s diaper bag, Alice began pulling one dollar bills out of her apron that was still wrapped around her waistline.

Alice, a waitress, was on break to pick up Nathan and was to return to work shortly after.

In my heart, I could not take the money because it didn’t seem right. After all, there was absolutely no work involved today. In fact, I should have paid Nathan for playing with my son so well.

I attempted to refuse, and she said, “If I can’t pay you, then I can’t ask you to help me. So let’s help each other.”

I understood her well because she knew that buying diapers and wipes for two was no small cost in a household where only one parent was working. And I, in turn, saved her from paying preschool tuition prices.

“Since it went so well, would you be willing to watch him every Tuesday & Thursday? “she asked hopefully.

“Sure,” I replied, delighted that Kevin would have a playmate his age.

That day was the beginning of two unlikely friendships. One between a young and very inexperienced 20-year-old and a still youthful, beautiful but experienced 40-year-old, and the other between two distant cousins. They are second cousins once removed, to be technical, but more like brothers, to be exact.

Kevin and Nathan spent many days and nights together. Nathan would join our family trips to aquariums, zoos, Disneyland, and Knott’s Berry Farm. At the same time, Kevin would set up residence in Nathan’s house every weekend, calling Alice his weekend mom. They would attend the same school together until 8th grade, with Nathan being one grade ahead and a year older.

Kevin, Nathan, my husband, Alice, and I would enjoy watching the two boys play different sports for the same team year-round, with cub scout meetings and much more.

Alice was sure to invite us to every gathering they had. So, last minute or well-planned, we made the guest list.

I would find myself stopping to visit just to catch up every couple of weeks while Liliana was at dance class. I would drop flowers every year on her birthday and loved listening to any story she was willing to share.

And so, 22 years later, I sat in the pews at Alice’s funeral and mourned the loss of a family member and my friend.

I quietly listened to her nephews and nieces share stories about her generosity. They shared how Alice paid for their dance lessons, sports registrations, and any equipment and supplies they needed. They recalled how she took them to zoos, baseball games, Disneyland, and numerous other places. (They also shared how she lost them at some of those places too.)

And as I sat beside my husband, warm tears fell down my cheeks, leaving my eyesight blurry. Then, as soon as I blinked, another tear sat, waiting to fall.

Zero visibility is the best I can describe it. I thought about what Alice gave my family and me.

The blessing of inclusivity. The gift of hospitality and a legacy of love.

Because I met my husband at such a young age, I have had the pleasure of watching his little cousins grow into adults. And just as I watched them grow, I know they have also watched us grow.

As each person shared tender stories of what a wonderful mother, aunt, cousin, woman, and friend she was, I couldn’t help but picture Alice holding a giant oversized cup of love.

And I could see the cup of love spilling over beyond the brim. It was spilling onto her nephews, nieces, and children. And I thought of how I could see Alice and the Love she left behind in how Xavier loves his wife and children so deeply and so well. A super-sized cup of love.

I can see the oversized cup of love Alice left behind in Eva when she attends events for the next generation of littles in the family. She is in the front row at recitals, football games, and school events. Spilling her love for them beyond the brim as Alice once did for her.

I can see Alice’s oversized cup of love in how Adrian took Kevin and Nathan to the theatre when they were so very young. Of course, not too many 20-year-olds would ask to treat a couple of little cousins to dinner and a movie, but he did, and his oversized cup of love began to flow into their lives and still does to this date.

The oversized cup of love is evident in her daughter Christy as she travels from the Bay Area in California to Porterville for family events, big and small. She is sure to never miss out on an opportunity to show support and her love for everyone here.

There are so many that she poured into that are now pouring into the next generation.

I can see Alice’s oversized cup of love when Pearl and others still invite us to family gatherings even though she is longer with us. Their hospitality reflects her legacy of love.

Sometimes, when driving down Newcomb Street, I automatically turn towards her house on autopilot, thinking I haven’t seen Alice in a long time. So I better stop by to say hi. And then, as quickly as I turn, I remember she is no longer with us.

So I keep driving past the house and take that moment to thank God for Alice and her legacy of love. Her oversized cup of love.

I still buy the flowers every year on her birthday, but greedily, I take them home. I put them in a vase carefully placed on my counter. And there, they bloom for several weeks, serving as a sweet reminder. They whisper to my heart that a beautiful person once loved me so deeply that even when there was no blood relation, she called me family. Her oversized cup of love has filled my heart so immensely that even though she is no longer here on Earth with us, I am still filled to the brim and flowing over into others.

Thank you for loving me so well, my dear friend Alice. If there is ever an opportunity for you to love another person God has set in front of you, I want to encourage you to pour from an oversized cup. Let your oversized, over-filled cup of love flow and spill over on everyone around you. Because if you can love like my friend Alice, then you have truly made an impact for generations to come.