Five days ago, I heard a quote in passing that I immediately jotted in my journal because it left such a strong impression on me:
"Rather than make your presence known, make your absence felt."
Yesterday I got word that my neighbor is moving out of state and, instantly, I understood the essence of what that quotation means.
Nan's absence on Harvestwood Court will be felt.
Like the rest of us, Nan is busy. She is the mother of three, has a husband who travels, and keeps the kind of schedule you would expect from a beloved pillar of our Grapevine community.
Still, Nan honks a quick "hello" as she passes by in her car,
generously welcomes new neighbors with baked goods,
Tosses newspapers on doorsteps,
checks mail when you are out of town,
initiates occasional street-wide festivities,
and always, ALWAYS has a big smile and a kind word to share.
Already I am remorseful that Nan and I didn't figure out how to spend more time together; that I didn't demand she make time for me, so I could learn from, and be inspired by, this woman who so clearly Shines. But that's me wanting to make my presence known.
Instead, Nan will quietly move to Tennessee, leaving behind a group of neighbors who are unsure why everything seems so different. The block will suddenly get more quiet, neighbors will socialize a little less, and the buzz of Nan's enthusiasm will eventually fade from our street.
Nan's busy schedule is such that her presence on our block is not known daily, but
her spirit is such that, daily, Nan's absence will be felt.
Shining off until...