Miss Betty

Every now and then, our lives cross paths with someone who makes a profound impact, and sometimes, for reasons we may not even know, our thoughts drift to fading memories of that special person.

Tonight I thought about Miss Betty. 

Miss Betty was a lunch lady who served me breakfast from a lunch line every single day for three years while I was an officer in the army. 

This obviously isn't her picture, but for some reason it reminded me of what she probably looked like in her youth.  I only knew her as an older woman, a black lady with a friendly (albeit nearly toothless) smile, a generous serving hand, and a warm heart. 

Over the course of my three years in her dining hall, Miss Betty served grits, eggs, greasy hamburgers, and everything else under the sun to tens of thousands of soldiers.  She'd worked in food service for over forty years, and had to work long past the age she should've retired just to make ends meet. 

The hard work, ridiculously long hours, and rough cafeteria conditions had taken its toll on her fragile body. 

She had permanent burn scars on her hands, her back pain was terrible, and the grease from the serving line seemed to coat her arms and hands like wax.  I don't think there is a more challenging job anywhere than cooking and serving food in a cafeteria.

But through it all, I can't remember a single day that Miss Betty didn't have a smile on her face when I went through her line.

She knew my breakfast order by heart, and over time, she took an interest in my career and my life.

Miss Betty knew about my old girlfriends, she knew about my old truck that kept breaking down, and she always laughed when I told her about the silly antics of my young soldiers. 

When my parents came to visit, I always took them to see Miss Betty, and Miss Betty dished out extra portions to my soldiers and friends whenever I was with them in her endless serving line. 

I invited Miss Betty to my promotion ceremony, where I was promoted from first lieutenant to captain.  I was shaking hands and talking to a group of captains when she humbly walked into the reception in her cook's uniform, clearly embarrassed and feeling inadequate.  I was thrilled that she took the time to attend, and abruptly stopped my conversation to ensure she felt welcome and comfortable.  Her shy smile that day touched my heart, and in my mind, she was the guest of honor at that important occasion.      

I find that my eyes are moist with thoughts of her, even after all these years. 

Towards the end of my tour, Miss Betty began missing a lot of work.  The other lunch ladies told me that her back was getting really bad, probably from the decades of bending over the serving trays and standing on the hard tiles. 

She went into surgery right before my move to law school, and sadly, I never got to say goodbye. 

Instead, I left a card for her with the other ladies.  It seemed like a nice gesture at the time, but now that I look back, I wish I would've done more. 

Because even now, I think about Miss Betty and her sweet smile. 

It's amazing that someone with such a challenging life maintained such a great spirit and was able to brighten every single day for me during those three years just by smiling at me and asking about my day.   

Miss Betty, God bless you, and thank you for touching my life tonight like you did so many years ago.   

Comments

[hamilton]

aww... that is such a moving story. I hope all is well with her.

[Shel]

Thank you for sharing that story. She sounds like such a special person. We are truly blessed when we have people like Betty in our lives. Plus, your memories are a remineder to be continually thankful of our Betty's that lift us up every day.

[abnitude]

that was a great tribute you made to miss betty. i am glad that she lives on in your heart and soul and will forever influence you. what an inspiration!!

[eric]

got my own miss betty's and i know exactly what she meant to you. good story, my friend.