The Popsicle Lady

The Popsicle Lady

Written by Tammy Varner Hornbeck

The people at the Church of God knew her as Ms. G. The children in the neighborhood knew her as the popsicle lady. She moved to town in her early twenties with her two children after her divorce. The children began walking by her yard curious about the new family that had moved in. One day while watching her children play in the front yard, a little boy walked down the line of her fence looking over at her son and dragging a stick along the fence. Ms. G looked closely at the boy and saw curiosity in his eyes that belied the scowl on his face. She turned and went to the freezer and pulled out a couple of popsicles and walked into the yard and looked at the boy—who had stopped to look at her; and looked at her son and said, “How about a popsicle?” Her son smiled, took the popsicle, and hugged her legs. Ms. G turned to the boy, smile and asked him, “Would you like a popsicle?” He looked at her in shock at first, but then smiled and said, “Yes ma’am.” Ms. G walked to the fence to hand the boy a popsicle but stopped just short of giving it to him. “I have one rule about sharing my popsicles.” He looked scared at first, but asked, “What rule?” She smiled. “Oh, it’s a simple rule really. All you have to do is play nice. Anytime you come to play in my yard, all you have to do is play nice and you can have a popsicle.” He looked at her, “That’s all? Just play nice?” She smiled. “Yes, that’s all I ask.”

And so, it began. The next day the same boy brought his little brother and older sister over to her yard to play and when she walked out to greet them, he told her “My sister don’t believe that all we have to do is be nice and we get a popsicle.” The older girl stood back a few feet from the gate and waited for Ms. G to call her brother a liar. Ms. G smiled and said, “That’s right. If you want to come visit and play with my kids in my yard; the only rule is to play nice. I keep popsicles around because it gets so hot, so I am happy to share if you just follow this one rule.” From that day on kids would come visit Ms. G’s children and earn their popsicles by playing nice. During those hot summer days Ms. G washed many a children’s hands from the stickiness of melted popsicles. And continued to do so year after year. Ms. G lost track of the number of popsicles she gave away along with lessons on God’s greatest commandment, love they neighbor.

One day, Ms. G’s daughter, Marie was going through a box of her mother’s journals about a year after having to put her in a nursing home. She flipped through the different journals marveling at the different styles and sizes and decorations her mother had put on the outsides of each one. Some she remembered seeing growing up going into kiss her mother goodnight. Her mother always settled in bed to write in her journals and watch a little television as part of her bedtime ritual. It was a constant in her life. When Marie’s mother had insisted on giving her the journals before she passed on, she had planned on keeping them put away, vowing not to read them until she was gone. Often when she was missing her mother, she would take the box of journals out of the hope chest at the foot of her bed and just look at the covers. This time, she found she couldn’t put this one particular journal down. God, what is it? Is something fixing to happen to mother? As if God himself was in the room with her, Marie heard a voice in her spirit say, Read June 11, 1998. Marie opened the journal in her hands and verified that she was in the right journal reading the beginning and ending dates her mother put in each one. It was there in that day’s entry that Marie read about the beginning of her mother’s Popsicle Ministry. Marie had been proud of being the popsicle lady’s daughter and for years after she had grown up and had children of her own, she could walk into any store and people would still greet her as the popsicle lady’s daughter. Marie closed the journal, smiled and felt a plan forming in her heart and mind.

Exactly one month later on June eleventh, Marie stopped by the nursing home to visit her mother. She had called ahead and asked that her mother be taken to the courtyard at precisely two o’clock to wait for her. As Marie entered the courtyard from the gate near the parking lot she spotted her mother sitting at a patio table reading her Bible. Marie stopped to look at her mother for a moment, her heart aching at how much weight she had lost since the last time she visited. Choking back tears, she put a smile on her face and approached her mother carrying a small empty cooler.

“Hi, Mom!”

“Well, hello Baby Girl!” Ms. G looked down at the cooler Marie had placed at their feet and asked, “What is that for?”

Marie smiled, “Oh, this. It’s a surprise.” And with that she pulled a whistle from her pocket and blew it loud. Marie pushed the cooler closer to her mother’s feet and said, “You might need this.”

About this time, Ms. G and Marie watched others come into the gate walking towards them a pink carnation in one hand and two popsicles in the other. The first man walked up to them, placed one of the popsicles in the cooler, the carnation in Ms. G’s hands and kissed her on the cheek, and walked to a spot just a few feet from the patio table and sat cross-legged on the grass. Next, came a middle-aged woman holding a little girl’s hand. They both dropped a popsicle in the cooler, handed Ms. G. a carnation and sat down near the man. After that, the line seemed to go on forever. Grown men and women. Children of all ages. Each of them there to thank a kind woman for showing them God’s love in the form of a popsicle.

Marie’s heart swelled at the love being shown to her mother. When the last visitor had sat down, she turned to her mother and wiped her mother’s tears away with a handkerchief that her mother had embroidered years ago. Marie brought it for this incredibly special occasion.

“Who are all these people?” Ms. G looked at the courtyard full of people for as far as she could see.

About that time, the first man stood up and spoke. “Ms. G, You may not remember me, but my name is Joshua. I was the first little boy you offered a popsicle to in 1988. I remembered your lesson on kindness and I became a youth minister. Thank you, Ms. G for showing me God’s love.” One by one each of them stood up and told of when Ms. G came into their lives, and how she had changed them. After each one recited their story, they opened their popsicle, took a bite, and sat down smiling. This went on until the popsicle Maria had opened and placed in her mother’s hand as the first man had stood had melted over the top of her hands. Ms. G, and Maria too, had been so mesmerized by the stories that they had forgotten all about them.