If there was ever a Godwink in my life, it was meeting Norma Mall. The craziest scriptwriter on Saturday Night Live could have never come up with this scenario.
I am the high school friend of her nephew, Mike, and we are friends on Facebook. A few years ago, as we traded witty banter on this social media network, I noticed a woman who interjected the same, quirky humor into the conversations but with just that little extra edge. It turned out to be Mike's cousin, Mary. "I like this girl," I told Mike. "Amy, Mary. Mary, Amy," he said with droll reservation. And with one click, Mary and I were friends.
In the background, Mary's mother, Norma, enjoyed reading our Facebook exchanges. Norma, who lived here in Peoria, just had a new screened in porch built onto her house. Mike, from Arizona, and Mary, from Idaho, would trade written barbs about who would be the first to grace this airy new addition to Norma's house.
Still with me? Because this is where it gets good. Norma noticed that I had become a new and similarly quirky member of this motley crew, and one day, I got a phone call. "Amy?" she said. "This is Norma. You're going to think I'm crazy." Funny, but I knew exactly who she was and immediately knew I'd like her, especially when she said, "Mike and Mary are fighting over who's going to be the first to sit on my porch. I'd like you to come over and sit on my porch and we'll take a picture and post it to Facebook. They'll be so jealous!"
|First on Norma's porch!|
I am a writer, yet am having a hard time finding the words to express who Norma was in my eyes. I'm sure those who knew her longer could more eloquently than me. I do know that Norma was all about family. Much like my mother, she was passionate about her daughters and their families. She always knew what was going on with each of them, and her pride in them was evident by her every word. They were her world.
I remember sitting in her kitchen, sipping on the wine she insisted we have in the late afternoon (like I objected.) The power had gone out and we were chatting in the waning light about marriage, men, and living alone. She was telling me about her husband, Vern, who had passed years earlier. He used to have a room that housed his trophies, and apparently he had many of them. At one point, Norma said she asked him, "Why don't I have a room like this? Where are all my trophies?" To which he simply pointed to a photo of her daughters and said, "Right there."
Norma was one of the wisest, most humble people I have ever met. I truly wish I had met her long ago, but perhaps God brought her to me when he knew I would appreciate her the most. When I went through a tough time, I emailed Mary and said, "I need some Norma time." Her response, "Norma time is any time. She'd love to see you."
And she did. She always greeted me with a hug. Always asked about my kids. Not "how are the kids" but "HOW are the kids." And I'd tell her. She'd tell me things she saw in my kids that I didn't even see, and she'd pass along her experience and stories and wisdom in the most calming, soothing voice that would leave me reassured and retrospective.
Norma taught me about relationships - that marriages are work and living alone can be tough but liberating at the same time. She taught me that friendships are valuable and children are precious no matter if they're in your life or in your heart. She taught me that life is too short to wait around for something to happen - go make it happen yourself. She taught me that a quiet, measured word is more effective than a loud, unthought one.
Norma began blogging in October of 2011 - she asked me to come over and help her set her page up. She came up with the title and asked what I thought. I said it was brilliant. If you ever want to be moved and learn a little in the process, look up 75 and holding.....on. You'll get a small sampling of the wonder that was Norma.
|Running for Norma on my 46th birthday - November 3, 2012|
The last time I saw her. She needed computer help so I offered my teenage son's services. As he sat and fiddled with the machine, we chatted. She was the same Norma - reassuring, calm, funny, humble, loving. I left with a hug and a promise we'd visit again soon. That never happened.
She wrote recently that the cancer had spread and her time was short, but we were not to be sad for her, because she had an amazing life. And I am not sad for her. I rejoice for her because I know she is with God in heaven, and as her good friend said, "Heaven is a bit more fun tonight."
Though I am sad for who she left behind, selfishly including myself, I am sadder for those who never had the honor of meeting Norma, for they missed out. I don't know that there is anyone who I have known for such a short time has made more of an impact on my life than Norma Mall. And I know she is watching over those she loves here on this earth, and I hope that includes me.
I thank God and his Godwink for giving me the opportunity to know Norma and to be welcomed as an honorary daughter and sister. To sit on her porch, to drink wine with her, to be a small part of her life, to impart her wisdom, to learn from her, and to have her call me "pretty little girl." I will miss you, Norma, but rest assured, you will never be far from my heart.