It was Jim and Jenny’s present. They had noticed that I liked fine china. They offered me a teacup sitting on a saucer-tray. I left the thing in my summer cabin, where I would use them whenever I stayed at the restful place in the woods. The cup was their friendly presence there. Every morning and at tea time. The steaming tea seemed to speak their words to me. I recognized the sound of thir voices, and their witty eyes, their laughters and their welcoming smile, each time I visited them in their neat little apartment.
They loved each other so perfectly. I had the privilege to celebrate their wedding, as they were already great grand parents! On that occasion, Jim received his first communion as well as the sacrament of marriage. He was beaming with joy and gratitude.
Jim was happy to serve the parish, helping in many various ways: repairing broken tools, painting old statues, setting up the Crèche before Christmas, and Christ’s tomb at Easter, trimming the hedge and pruning the rose-trees, setting the tables for our weelkly Alpha dinners, washing up and putting everything back in order. People loved him. And Jenny worked always by his side. When cancer appeared and started gnawing at Jim’s brain, his frail spouse never spared her health to wait upon him, day and night, performing what nurses do.
They were a loving, unassuming, inspiring couple. As one body, they both fought the cancer, unto Jim’s very last breath, in the circle of his family.
When I see the teacup on its saucer now, I can hear Jim whispering in the twinkle of an eye : «We know you enjoy nice china…»
Jim and Jenny never failed to do a good deed while they had the power to do so. The steaming tea, forever, has a taste of Heaven.