By Judith Kristen, AAP Columnist

First of all, Happy Valentine’s Day!

Originally my column was going to be about a lady by the name of Esther A. Howland, known as, “The Mother of the American Valentine.”

Then, as I’ve been known to do on many an occasion, my mind wandered – still in a loving direction – and I decided to write this column instead.

Personally I think it will touch you a lot more than a story about Esther A. Howland.

This is a different kind of love story.

This is a story about my friend, Bobbie Bechtel, and her connection with an old and much loved home in Merchantville.

The house is one of our community’s oldest. It has a fine history, both in architecture as well as the lovely families who have dwelled within its walls over the course of the last 150 plus years.

As of late, the house fell on hard times due to unforeseen circumstances and now Bobbie’s dream home is up for sale.

Many of you reading this know Bobbie, and if you don’t, it is sadly your misfortune; for she is one of the loveliest and most giving souls I have ever known. No matter what storm she has to weather, she handles it with a kind, generous, and loving heart. Life has tested her on more levels than most of us could even comprehend, and while certain people have disregarded her, and treated her harshly and unfairly, she has never gone to that dark place herself. Miss Bobbie is a source of light to anyone who is worth their salt.

Now, back to that dream home. Even before this amazing old house went up for sale, we would drive by it and Bobbie would say, “That’s gonna’ be my home someday!” “Isn’t it beautiful?” “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to live there?” “Jude, I feel like I’ve been looking for this place my whole life!” You get the idea.

Bobbie rents a great apartment but it’s small for her needs. But no matter where she has lived in her lifetime, big or small, she’s always welcomed everyone in for a visit – whether for a fun chat, a cup of coffee, or a wonderful dinner. And so certainly that lovely BIG house would give her more than enough great space to welcome friends to visit and stay; a temporary home for a displaced pal or relative; large family dinners that can’t happen in cramped quarters; weekly, nightly, or holiday dinners for older members of the neighborhood who would otherwise have to eat alone; and of course, to also welcome in a few new stray animals in much need of a loving forever home.

Needless to say, Bobbie is a walking, talking “welcome wagon.”

Actually, she does all of these wonderful things now, as she can. But a grander scale would be, well… grander… for everyone. When the house went up for sale, all she could think of was: “How can I come up with the money to buy it?” “Can I open up my thrift shop again to help make it happen?” “How many more houses will I have to clean?” “How many more errands will I have to run, dogs to walk, or places to ‘house sit?’” The girl is a worker, I can tell you that much.

And, one day, when the owner was about to give a yard sale, Bobbie and I knocked on his door and we asked if we could have a look-see ahead of time. He was a kind and gracious man, and of course he said, “Yes.”

I toured around quickly and looked at this and that. And when I was finished, I turned to talk to Bobbie; she was still looking at things, holding them in her hands, moving them around, turning them this way and that… much as a child would enjoy a most-cherished and beloved toy.

It was then that I realized that there was more to this connection than just bricks and mortar. I still can’t say exactly what it is… but it’s there. Like unseen magic, some strange universal force… it’s there.

Before the owner moved to live with other family members, Bobbie and I actually got to tour inside the house. It really is a lovely, old place. It just needs a lot of love and care, something I know my friend would be more than well equipped to give – if finances allowed.

As a writer, I see a lot more deeply into normal, everyday life than most; watching my dear friend walk through room after room was as enchanting as it was uplifting. She ran her hand along the railing as she walked up to the second floor as if she had done it a thousand times before in her life and had never lost the joy in doing so. Every room was a: “Look at this, Jude!” or “Isn’t this wonderful?” or “Can you imagine all the goodness just waiting to happen inside here!?!” “Can you see it!?!”

And yes. I could.

Even now as the price continues to drop on Miss Bobbie’s home, it remains empty, as if it’s just waiting for her to find a way to call it her own.

If you walked by or drove by the house over the holidays, you may have noticed silver garland adorning the front shrubbery.

If you walk or drive by it now, you’ll see the sparkly red hearts that mark St. Valentine’s love, gracing those same bushes.

And, should the house remain alone and waiting on Miss Bobbie come March, then green St. Patrick’s Day shamrocks will appear; soon after that, Easter Bunnies and colorful spring flowers… all the way through to the next time silver garland is ready to make another appearance.

It’s her small but loving gift to a home that has brought her much joy, and makes her feel connected and hopeful.

Some people might think Bobbie’s dream is just a bit too big, but I believe that certain dreams come to us as oversized, so that one day we can grow into them.

Please allow me to end this column with a most appropriate and heart-felt quote by Paul Gruchow – a passage very much worthy of my dear friend, Bobbie.

“When the uniqueness of a place sings to us like a melody, then we will know, at last, what it means to be home.”

One final note… Miss Bobbie? If one of my books skyrockets off the charts, or I’m fortunate enough to be the winner of a million dollar lottery ticket, I’ll make sure you get to be your dream home’s rightful owner. Because my friend, it’s only fair – for deep within your heart, and deep within the heart of that precious old house – you already are.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Everyone!

Much love,

~Judy