Patricia Lorenz

One day after a job interview, I stopped at my friend Sharon’s house for a cup of tea. She knew something was wrong, even though I didn’t go into all the details. She hugged

me, poured a second cup and tried to make me laugh.

As I was leaving, Sharon noticed one of the two buttons that hold the decorative belt on the back of my winter coat was missing, causing the belt to dangle ridiculously in the back.

At that moment, during that extremely low point in my life, I honestly could not comprehend how or when I would manage to sew that button back on. Mortified, I felt hot tears sneaking into my lower lashes as I headed for the front door.

Sharon pulled open my coat at the bottom. “Hey, look here. There’s an extra button sewn inside. Take your coat off and I’ll sew it on for you right now.”

At that moment, I felt more love and more compassion from a friend than ever before in my life. Granted, over the years, my friends have been wonderful to me, with me and for me. But this gesture, when I was at such a state emotionally, dragging so low that a missing button was about to send me over the edge, the gift of Sharon’s time, her caring and intuitive knowing that I could not muster the energy to sew that button on myself, meant more to me than if someone had come to my door with a sweepstakes check.

When I got home that afternoon, I found a silly greeting card in the mail from another friend, Kay.