Theos-Talk Archives (February 1998 Message tt00086)

>> HAVE A HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY.  THIS STORY IS JUST IN TIME FOR THE
>> HOLIDAY.
>>
>> A Sweet Tale of Love:
>> John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army
>> uniform,
>> and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand
>> Central
>> Station.  He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face
>> he
>> didn't,
>> the girl with the rose.
>> His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida
>> library.  Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not
>> with
>> the
>> words of the book, but with the notes  penciled in the margin.    The
>> soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.  In
>> the
>> front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss
>> Hollis
>> Maynell. With time and effort he located her address.  She now  lived
>> in
>> New York City.   He wrote her a letter introducing himself and
>> inviting her
>> to  correspond.  The next day he was shipped overseas for service in
>> World
>>  War II.
>> During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other
>> through
>>  the
>> mail.  Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart.  A  romance
>> was
>> budding.  Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused.  She felt
>> that
>> if he
>> really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked  like.   When the day
>> finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first
>> meeting -
>> 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in  New York.
>> "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on
>> my
>> lapel."     So at 7:00 P.M. he was in the station looking for a girl
>> whose
>> heart he loved,  but whose face he'd never seen.     I'll let Mr.
>> Blanchard
>> tell
>> you what happened:
>> "A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim.  Her
>> blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were
>> blue as
>> flowers.  Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale
>> green
>> suit she
>> was like springtime come alive.      I started toward her, entirely
>> forgetting to
>> notice that she was not  wearing a rose.  As I moved, a small,
>> provocative
>> smile curved her lips.  "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured.
>> Almost
>> uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw  Miss
>> Hollis
>> Maynell.     She was standing almost directly behind the girl.  A
>> woman
>> well
>> past 40,  she
>> had graying hair tucked under a worn hat.  She was more than  plump,
>> her
>> thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.  The girl in the green
>> suit
>> was walking quickly away.  I felt as though I was split in two, so
>> keen was
>> my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman
>> whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.
>> "And there she stood.  Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible,
>> her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle.  I did not hesitate.  My
>>  fingers
>> gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to
>> identify me to her.    This would not be love, but it would be
>> something
>> precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for
>> which I
>> had been and  must  ever be grateful.    I squared my shoulders and
>> saluted
>> and held out the book to
>> the woman,  even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness
>> of my
>> disappointment.
>> "'I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell.  I am
>> so
>> glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?'
>> "The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile.  'I don't know what
>> this is about, son,' she answered, 'but the young lady in the green
>> suit
>>  who
>> just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat.  And she
>> said if
>> you
>> were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is
>> waiting
>> for
>> you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it  was some
>> kind of
>> test!'"
>> It's not difficult  to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom.
>> THE TRUE NATURE OF A HEART IS SEEN IN ITS RESPONSE TO THE
>> UNATTRACTIVE.
>>   "Tell me whom you love,"    Houssaye wrote,  "And I will tell you
>> who you
>>  are."