The Love Language of Aloe

This is a true story about the love language of Aloe Vera.

Botany has long played a role in our love language. An entire color wheel of emotions can be expressed through roses alone. From the most magnificent magnolia to the everyday dooryard Lilac, plants and flowers are often used in the human expression of love.

For me, Aloe Vera represents Agape, the unselfish love of others that to the ancient Greeks was the highest form of love

There are some pretty solid analogies to be made. Aloe offers much yet asks little in return. Like love, aloe can grow most anywhere, even in the sparest of environments. Like love, aloe can heal what ails ya and smooth the rough edges that come from weathering time.

This is a fairly recent realization that came while dividing the Aloe I inherited when my Dad died, who inherited it from my Mom when she died. It’s hearty stock, living the first half of its life in the warm California climate and the latter half here in Vermont. All it asks is soil, sun, water and room to grow.

A few weeks ago I tended to my Aloe, separating the baby aloe from the great grand dames. I sorted them into piles by size and the integrity of the root system. I spread the word far and wide that I had Aloe “free to good homes” and set up a help-yourself aloe station in my front yard. I hauled the unclaimed Aloe in each night, then hauled it back out after the Sun had warmed the day. I’m happy to say that most of them are now in the homes of friends (and some strangers) all around town. But it got me to thinking, why in the world did I care so much about finding homes for the Aloe babies? Which got me to thinking about my Mama, the lady that introduced me to Aloes magic. Which got me to thinking about how Aloe and love are so entwined in my mind and heart. Which led me to telling this story.

To set the stage, I need to tell you a little about my Mom. For most of my life it was just Mama, my sister Suzi and me. My Mom’s lack of a College degree steered her toward a career in the service industry and she excelled. She hustled cocktails and slung hash in the finest eateries and the raunchiest honky-tonks with equal aplomb. She once won an all expenses paid vacation to Hawaii for selling more Chi-Chi’s and Mai-Tai’s than any other server on the entire West Coast. She put herself through real estate training while working two waitress jobs and raising two kids, then went on to win awards for having 3 million dollars in sales in her first year (in the late 70s). You get the gist. She was a doer, always on the go.

But here’s the truest thing I can tell you about my Mom. No matter how full her plate was, if your plate was spilling over she’d be right there to lighten your load. Whether you just needed a ride because your damn car was on the fritz again, or you needed your troubled teen out of the damn house for the Summer before someone gets hurt, my Mom was on hand to help.

And she didn’t do it for glory. And she didn’t do it in exchange for social currency. And she didn’t do it out of pathos. She did it because she genuinely cared about people, she felt genuine love for others and demonstrated that through her actions.

Agape.

As long as I can remember my Mom had Aloe growing all over the house. We all know memory exaggerates, but I recall feeling surrounded by it. Little pots of Aloe in the kitchen sill. Clay pots on the bathroom shelves. Extra large wooden barrel patio planters bursting with 2 foot fronds and large flowering spikes. Aloe cascading from hanging planters where the turtle doves nested each Spring, Aloe growing out of old bird baths and fish tanks and even a clawfoot tub.

My mama loved Aloe. She loved it aesthetically, she loved how easy it was to care for and she loved the magical healing powers of the amazing aloe.

I think most folks know Aloe works for burns, but do you know how WELL it works?

I do. Because when I was 16 I was frying burgers in a cast iron skillet over a gas burner - barefoot, wearing cut-offs and a tank top. Yup. A careless flip of the patties splattered hot oil blisters all over my legs, and one on my face…and I don’t have a single scar, thanks to aloe.

That is one of Aloe’s superpowers/it’s acts of love, the power to heal external owies. And that is why Aloe is a common ingredient in remedies and supplements, lotions and balms and ointment. Large pieces can act as a sort of honey bandage, protecting wounds and keeping them sterile.

Aloe is also used internally. My Mom went through a phase where she drank aloe juice as a daily supplement. It was a little intense for me, but yeah, like I said. My mom loved Aloe.

And she liked to give it away as much as she liked to grow it. My mom was a real estate agent and she often left a small kitchen Aloe as a gift when her clients bought a new home.

When I got my first apartment she showed up with Aloe and a broom.

My Mom truly believed in the healing powers of Love and Aloe. This story epitomizes that connection. It takes place in McCall Idaho.

Every Summer my Grandma and Grandpa Hansen would pack their pickup and drive from Tulare CA to McCall Idaho. Grandpa Leo had a half-shell customized with a bunk bed and a walkie-talkie connection to the cab. He’d throw anywhere from 3-6 grandkids in the back then head North.

McCall is a small mountain town surrounded by rivers bursting with trout. It had a Rexall drugstore that sold ice-cream sundaes, a small Nazarene church and a big, beautiful lake with waterside cabins. Pretty much heaven for my Grandpa Leo, the preacher’s son.

As much as my Mama loved Aloe, my Grandpa loved fishing!

He shared that love with us cousins. Teaching us how to bait a hook, cast a line and clean our catch. One of my sweetest memories is of fishing with my Grandpa. Somewhere in the family archives there is a photo of a 5 year old me holding up my first trout and grinning from ear to ear. I don’t have any hair in the photo, because that is also about the time I refused to allow anyone near me with a comb or brush. Anyhow, these memories are soft-focus, golden glow kind of memories.

Grandpa Leo liked to take his grandkids fishing, but truth be told, after we got to a certain age he didn’t much like actually fishing with us. He preferred to rock hop his way up stream “chasing the smart ones”. But first he’d set us up for success. He’d find a good fishing spot to leave us with our snack and tackle boxes. He’d remind us in his gruff voice to “Cast in here. Let it float out through there. Reel it before it gets to them rocks or you’ll snag your line. Do it just like that and you’ll find a trout that wants that worm.” Then he’d hike off in his waders to do some real fishing upstream from our noise and nonsense.

So flash forward a hundred years. We’re having one of those “we’re getting older, everyone’s getting older, let’s do it one last time” kind of family vacations. I think this must have been why my Mom was along for the trip. Because she NEVER came to McCall when we were kids. She couldn’t afford to take the time off work, and also I imagine an entire month without the kids must have been bliss for a single Mom. But this particular year, she was here.

One day Grandpa took a couple of us cousins fishing. He found a nice spot in a beautiful alpine meadow. The sun was so warm and delicious that as soon as Grandpa was out of sight I stripped down to my boxers, a tank top and my waders. I stood out in that creek and fished all day.

I don’t know if y’all have experienced a perfect Summer day in an alpine meadow, but they are deceptively soft. You don’t feel the heat until it’s far too late and the sun has had his way with you.

I was old enough to know better. I was old enough to know I should have packed sunscreen. I was old enough to have the sense to find some shade.

But common sense did not prevail and I proceeded to acquire the worst sunburn of my life. 360 degrees, shins to shoulders, can’t sit, can’t think, fever-heat, air hurts kind of sunburn.

When we got back from fishing, my Mom took one look at me and kicked into Mama-Bear overdrive. She knew what I needed. I needed Aloe and I needed it now. Thing is, the sun was already setting and McCall shuts down early.

Everyone said “Leomae we’re in a small mountain town in Idaho. The Rexall is closed. You are not gonna find any Aloe tonight.” But her baby girl was hurting and she was bound and determined to get her hands on some aloe for me.

And you know what? She did find some.

And you know why? Because she was smart.

See the mountains of the Northwest are prone to forest fire. Where there is fire, there are firefighters who know well the healing powers of the plant. My mom found a ranger station that grew giant mountain aloe, specifically to treat burns. She told the rangers my tale of woe and they sent her away with armfuls of Aloe. She carefully split the leaves in half and trimmed away the prickly edges. Then sat by me through the night, rotating large slabs of cooling aloe flesh over my sun baked body. Her love and aloe healed me.

Maybe that’s why I love sharing my Aloe. Maybe that’s why I am compelled to find them homes, like a litter of kittens. Because, when I share the aloe that once grew in my mothers living room it’s like I’m sharing a little of my mothers love. It warms my heart to think of her Aloe growing in the homes of friends and family, neighbors and strangers.

So here is my wish:

May we all be a little more like Aloe. Let’s evoke the love language of aloe by giving more than we take, healing what we can, easing the way and sharing this love throughout our community.