My Uncle Jim

Last night, my uncle was in a terrible accident.  While on the job, he was hit by a landslide.  He was life-flighted to a hospital in another town, where he was found to have a crushed lung, a leg broken in 7 places, and 6 broken ribs.  He needed a transfusion of 7 pints of blood, but praise God he is going to make it. He is in an induced coma now and will have a long recovery ahead of him.  He is my mom's only sibling, and the only uncle I have ever known.

Uncle Jim and Aunt Kathy live in Mt. Shasta, California.  The distance has probably kept us from having a closer relationship as there are only a handful of times that we have managed to get together.....usually for celebrations like my wedding and my brother's wedding, or for sad occasions like my grandparents' funerals.  But I hold a special place in my heart for him because when I was a child, he gave me a gift that had no monetary value whatsoever:  the gift of kindness.

I remember going to his home when I was around 10 years old, and riding his horses.  I had just recently had a haircut that took my hair from very long to very short.  It was a botched attempt to match my best friend's cute Dorothy Hamill hairdo.  I looked like a boy.  A boy who wore girl clothes.  And when I showed up at my uncle's house, he said to me, "You look beautiful." 

I remember going to his home when I was around 12 years old, to meet my cousin Andrew who had just been born.  At this point, my hair had grown out a bit, and for some unthinkable reason I had gotten a perm.  I had fake curls, huge owl glasses, and my only friend was the neighbor boy.  And when I showed up at my uncle's house, he said to me, "You look beautiful."

I remember going to his home when I was around 14 years old.  I was just coming out of the awkward junior high years, in the process of trying to "make myself over" for the beginning of high school, and my confidence was shaky.  I still struggled with a very poor self-image.  And when I showed up at my uncle's house, he said to me, "You look beautiful."

Three little words.  Little did he know the power that they held.  My parents, of course, told me I was beautiful....but they had to....it was part of their job requirement, so it didn't hold as much value in my book.  I knew my uncle, though, could have fudged his way out of it by either saying nothing at all or by complimenting my shoes, perhaps.  But he didn't.  He said I was pretty, and I knew when he said it that he meant it. Though I didn't suddenly tranform into a supermodel in my head, my confidence was given a boost, if only for a short while, and that was a gift more precious than any other he might have given me.

I don't think I've ever told him about this.  Like I said, we don't see each other often.  But I hope to change that.  This accident has reminded me that life is fragile and the days are short.  And on this Thanksgiving Day, I am aware that gratitude should be expressed and not held inside.  So thank you, Uncle Jim, for always making me feel special.  And thank you, God, that you spared his life.