The Porch Fairy … or Provoking One Another to Good Deeds

“Can I deliver a Chai and leave it on the front porch so as not to disturb the patient if you pick it up while it’s hot?” The email arrived out of the blue from a retired schoolteacher friend.

“No, you may not drop and run,” I countered. “I need a hug. Besides, isn’t that a run-on sentence?”

And thus began the season of the Porch Fairy. Morning after morning, always at 7:30, a hot Chai latte was left on our front porch as my husband was dying of cancer in the hospital bed in the living room.

After our daughter Summer flew in to stand watch with me, Chai latte and Americano coffee found their way to our front porch. Every. Morning. For weeks. Even in snow and ice, although I tried to persuade the Porch Fairy to take snow days. But she’s quite stubborn, this sweet fairy.

As the days slipped by, the Porch Fairy’s over-achieve-ness presented itself in pumpkin scones, fun mismatched socks, banana nut bread, bouquets of flowers, Mason jars of homemade soup, chocolate. And Chai lattes. Every morning at 7:30.

Because of the Porch Fairy’s whimsical initiative, our front porch saw quite a bit of activity from others: scented candles, pumpkin bread and pumpkin pie, bamboo knitting needles with soft yarn in lovely autumn colors, bouquets of brilliant fall leaves, and a lovely hand-crafted Christmas wreath.

One day the Porch Fairy emailed to say she and her husband would be out of town for a week, and could she drop off one more delivery of coffee and Chai beforehand, which she did. But our generous fairy also left a $50 coffee shop gift card to cover in her absence (place big-eyed, wide-mouthed emoji here). Doing small things with great love, until it’s no longer a small thing.

It was the season of graciously and humbly learning to say: Yes, thank you. And with each generous gift, each acceptance of assistance, each ask for help, God was reminding me I couldn’t carry this load alone. I needed this fiercely supportive posse of friends and family and co-workers and cancer community members.

In their book, A Path Appears, Sheryl WuDunn and Nicholas Kristof wrote:

“Participating in a cause larger than yourself … creates a sense of fulfillment, gets us out of bed in the morning with a bounce in our step, and helps make a difference in the lives of others—even as it affirms a purpose for our own lives on earth.”

I think a cause larger than us can be anything that involves giving of ourselves to someone else—no matter how small our gift might seem in our opinion.

For my husband and me, there were no small gifts. No one ever mailed or hand-delivered a small gift. They were all large, and they spoke eloquently of the love that carried us through that bittersweet time.

Which reminds me of this verse from Galatians:

“So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.” – Galatians 6:10

Doing good through God’s incomparable love to our family of Christ-followers.

Fast forward ten years

As I write this, it’s been ten years since my husband left this broken planet for his cancer-free, no-pain, eternal home with Jesus. The grief is long gone. My life is sweet, and freckled, and brimming with love, and wildly gleeful, and … well, you get the picture.

But during those last bittersweet weeks of my husband’s time on earth, my heart was being battered. And the Porch Fairy’s thoughtfulness and generosity extended far beyond daily Chai deliveries on those cold mountain mornings. It was a resounding message that said, “I understand cancer is ramping up and it pains my heart to know you’re facing the death of your husband, and if this offering can convey that I’m thinking of you and praying for you and belligerently loving you, well then …”

Yes, the Chai latte said all that. 

Side note:

It breaks my heart to say that the Porch Fairy has now joined the Widow's Club when her beloved unexpectedly and recently left this earth for his heavenly home.

I was out of town at the time, and would be leaving again. But there were a dozen days in between all the coming and going, and my first thought was maybe I could reciprocate in a small way.

And so, I began my abbreviated version of her very large and kind and overwhelmingly generous gift to me.

Turns out, the Porch Fairy broke PF rules. On the second or third day, when I delivered to her front porch, there was a package and a note left for me.

And so I texted her later with a rather stern message: “The recipient of Porch Fairy-ness is not allowed to leave gifts on her front porch for the one making deliveries. This is against PF rules.” 

And then—because she’s a retired schoolteacher—I threatened her with after-school detention.

Well, the Porch Fairy had the audacity to sass text back: “Such deviations of the code are allowed under the augmentation of the Fairy’s plan to leave the country, soon, and for an extended period of time. See Legality of Chai-ness, #5 ...”

Smile.