One of the first things I noticed was her beautiful, crown of white hair.

And her sweet smile framed in pretty, pink lipstick. I couldn’t decide what was prettier, the hair or the pretty, pink lips.

This lady had me from hello.

And she’s had me spellbound ever since that early spring day eight years ago.

She was 83. I was 31. We had just moved in next door to her and we “took to each other right away” she tells others when we share our story of friendship.

Her real name is Viola, most call her Landi, and I call her My Queen.

I was taken aback right away by her strength and confidence despite her petite frame. She was so easy to talk to. I felt right away I could sit down and tell her my whole life story and not only would she listen, she’d be interested.

I will never forget her offering my husband and I some homemade wine and when we declined she curiously asked, “Is it because you’re Baptist?”

We still chuckle to this day and ask, “What did God think an 83 year old; Italian, Catholic would have in common with a 31 year old, Hillbilly, Pentecostal?”

A whole lot we’ve concluded.

Our friendship started in the kitchen. I wanted to learn all her Italian specialties, her first question was “Do you have an apron?” I did not. So she gave me my first cobbler apron.

I still wear it almost everytime I cook.

I’ll never forget the first time she came to my house for a party.

I was mesmerized at how she greeeted each person. She shook their hand, held it, along with their gaze, and genuinely wanted to know how they were.

Her gift is people and the way she makes them feel. I’m baffled at how she never forgets a name, a face, or a conversation she has with you.

She will not go to a party or visit a friend empty handed. She always brings a gift, whether it’s a meal, a bag of chocolates, or flowers, she will always bring something to make you smile.

In a world full of rush and hurry, she is come on over and will give you her most precious commodity: her time.

When she couldn’t drive anymore, she was devastated. I told her I will be your eyes. So I started driving her places she needed to go. She called me her Lady in Waiting, and I was honored to drive this roya gal around.

We were quite the pair. This hillbilly gal driving her Lincoln town car, with a license plate on the front that read, The Godmother.

I took her to see friends, we went shopping and to funerals.

Many funerals.

She jokes she is a professional mourner. She taught me when someone passes you go, even if you did not know the deceased, you go to comfort those which are grieving.

I have watched her comfort too many to count.

Since that day meeting her eight years ago, she has become my best friend, a second mother, and My Hero.

She’s the first I go to when I have exciting news, and I confess, I just about skip to her door.

She has cried with me when my world was falling apart and assured me like her mother did, “this too shall pass.”

She’s whom I call when I’m out of something and even if it’s the rarest ingredient, she has it.

She’s this scattered brain’s memory, and will remind me of appointments, events coming up and crucial details to a story when I forget certain parts.

My Queen is now 91.

She keeps asking when is the Lord going to take her home? I assure her she has a purpose and God is still using her. She does not realize the impact her life is still having.

This amazing woman who has taught me the meaning of true friendship. Of accepting others.

That pasta is NOT called noodles.

 To always make your bed.

Keep yummy snacks in the house in case guests come by.

 And when you don’t know what to do for someone hurting, bring them a meal, everyone has to eat.

Maybe God wasn’t so concerned about what we had in common when He joined us in friendship, I’m thinking it was because He knew I had so much to learn. 

I can tell you one thing, He knew exactly the friend I needed.

My Landi.

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