Margaret

​“Can Miss Ruth come out to play?”
I had answered the knock at our front door to find five-year-old Margaret, a neighbor girl, asking if my mom could play with her.
I was probably eight or nine years old. We lived in a subdivision where families were friendly.  Children zipped around the neighborhood on their bikes without a care. Parents had bridge parties monthly. Kids hopped off the school bus often going to their next-door neighbor’s house for a snack.
But there stood Margaret, one of several children in her noisy family, probably looking for a listening ear, a hug, and wanting someone to herself. Margaret wasn’t the only child who coveted time with Mom. The neighborhood kids loved her. She was always excited to see them, invited them in for cookies and milk or Kool-Aid, or played with them if they brought over toys.
Before I could call out for Mom, she appeared and invited Margaret in.
It doesn’t matter now what they did together that day. I can’t even remember. I thought it was strange that a little girl would want to play with my mom. But Mom didn’t think it was strange at all.
Why did Margaret want to be with my mom? When Mom had a visitor of any age or background, she was the queen of hospitality. She offered food and drink to them in some of her antique dishes or china. Little girls were often treated to drinking hot tea with milk and sugar while savoring homemade cookies. Mom liked pulling out my board games or a deck of cards to play “Go Fish.” She listened to her guests every word, commenting appropriately, encouraging when necessary. If she was cooking a meal, she offered her guest to come alongside and help her. And she always sent her company on their way with a hug and “Come back soon!”
Looking back, I wasn’t offended Margaret asked for Mom instead of me. I’d always thought the girl was somewhat unique. But I’m grateful for a mom who modeled the love in her heart for people and made them feel welcome in her home and wherever she encountered them.