Sonia Ralston, who died at Crosslands on June 7, used to write a monthly column for the Kennett Paper called "Dear Friends." A column she wrote in July 2000 about her husband's death made such a impression on me that I ripped it out of the paper (this was before everything was online) and saved it in a drawer.
In this remarkable and graceful piece she wrote about how kind people were to her and her husband in his last days -- her taxi-driver, the nurses, neighbors, custodians, her newspaper delivery person -- and how much those seemingly small gestures meant to her, reinforcing her belief that we don't need to make distant pilgrimages to find God.
"For if one believes that God is Love ... then that sought-after face may be seen on the street where you live ... in the schoolroom where your children study ... or in the unexpected kindness of a stranger," she wrote. "We witnessed how emptying a wastebasket and vacuuming the same floor day after day can become an act of love when it is done with a genuine and kindly word of encouragement."
We writers talk about struggling to achieve an authentic "voice" in our work. Mrs. Ralston had clearly reached that goal -- and her voice was that of a gentle, spiritual and genuinely grateful soul.
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