Svea, my mother's cousin, immigrated from Sweden to Spokane, Washington around the 1950's. I didn't know a lot of my relatives, but this lady took me in and loved me, always making me feel like a special guest in her home. Her tiny kitchen had painted cabinets that held old China, tin canisters and golden high ball glasses. On the red and white Formica table sat an old, dial radio we listened to every morning. Above it, a hanging planter held a trailing succulent that looked about 100 years old. It's small, fat leaves cascaded down from the ceiling, a flowing green river of plant.
Every time I came to that Spokane kitchen, the trailing succulent greeted me. It didn't change, was never moved, and continued to grow year after year, happy and content. It came to represent what Svea's influence has meant to my life. Lovely and constant, never changing in her affection, growing and full of life.
Now, I have a trailing succulent hanging from my ceiling. Every time I see it, I'm reminded of the amazing influence she had in my life, and it helps me through some of the rough patches in my own. Thanks, God.
