Something About Nothing by Julie Seedorf

One of my best friends is now singing with the angels. Her beautiful voice has joined God’s chorus in heaven. I dedicate this column to her and our friendship. I feel blessed that she was a part of my life. There are rare people who come along in your life and change it — and you — for the better. Jan was one of those people. She left everyone and everything she touched richer. She didn’t do it by shouting to the world to listen, but by quietly influencing us one person at a time. I want to tell you about her and if you have a friend like this, take time to have the conversations about life that many of us are afraid to have. Friendship isn’t just made in the good times but it grows through the challenges of life, leaving a deep imprint that lasts even beyond our physical world.

I met Jan Helfritz approximately 23 years ago. I remember the moment. It was at the community center in Wells where Good Shepherd held their Adult Education classes on Sunday mornings. She introduced herself to me and reintroduced herself to my husband, who she had gone to school with in Albert Lea. They were classmates.

A few weeks later we decided to have lunch and get acquainted. She had recently been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be friends, not because I didn’t like her but because I had just lost two other good friends to cancer, one being ovarian cancer. I knew it had a short life prognosis.

But I and cancer didn’t realize Jan’s resilient nature or her grit and determination.

Over the years I learned a few things about my friend, Jan.

Faith in God was important in her life. Her faith was a quiet faith but one that influenced all of us by the way she lived. She seldom missed a church service. She was active in the church community and her voice filled us all with joy when she shared it with us in the choir or in special music.

Jan believed in miracles, and last spring when I expressed the fact that maybe her new treatment would be the cure and the miracle she was waiting for, she told me she had already had two miracles and she wasn’t sure she would have another. She was referring to the times she was near death and she came back to us. God had given her 23 years she hadn’t expected. But she assured me she would be healed, just not in the way we wanted.

Her family and friends were her treasure. She loved us without judgment. We were secure in the fact we could be ourselves. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t gently tell us when she thought something needed to change in our lives, but she did it with grace and love, so we listened. The thing is she didn’t think she was perfect even if we did.

Jan loved purses and had quite a collection. She recycled many of my purses into her collection. I always knew to check with Jan first before finding them a home elsewhere.

Bad language and profanity had no place in her life. When she read a book that had swearing or any other bad language she kept her white-out handy and would white out the words. I never heard her use any off-color words either and those around her knew never to use questionable language in front of her. They were her values, and she wore them well.

Jan loved to entertain. And it was fun going to Jan’s house because it felt as if you were going to an upscale party. She and her husband, Bill, hosted our pool group for many years on a regular basis. Our Wells Belles Red Hat group shared many an occasion at her house. New Year’s was a special time when her entire family, kids, grandkids, sisters, brothers and extended family were invited for an overnight bash. Everyone always had a good time when Jan and Bill put on their hosting caps.

When I broke my leg and was laid up, I had many wonderful friends help me on a daily basis. Jan was one of those. She brought me books, spent time with me and one day decided we were going to have a spa, and she polished my toenails. I was a little embarrassed to have a friend work on my feet but that is who Jan was. She thought about what was good for someone else and tried to make it happen.

A few years later I had another illness and Jan became my office person once a week for a time, helping me out with my business. I will never forget her answer when I asked how she did it. She went through so much, yet she kept going. My small illness made me want to not get out of bed. She said, “You put one foot in front of the other and take one step. There may be days you only can take one step but that’s OK. You made it one step.” I still use that advice today.

During another conversation, she shared with me that at the time of her diagnosis she decided she was going to treat her cancer as any other disease, such as diabetes, and think of it as a chronic illness she could live with. And that’s what she did for all of these years.

In the 23 years I knew Jan, I never heard her say a bad word about anyone. I never heard her complain once about how she felt. If you asked her how she was, she would always answer, “I’m good.” or “Excellent.” It wasn’t until right before Thanksgiving when I nonchalantly asked how she was and she replied, “I am not having a good day.” She wasn’t complaining just stating a fact, and I knew things were changing.

One day she told me she was tired. There would be no more measures to stop the cancer. That is the only time I have seen tears fall from her eyes, and they didn’t last long because she went on to explain all she wanted to finish before she left us. In the last few weeks I watched as she was busy knitting a scarf for her husband, Bill, working with her sister, Judy, to finish a quilt for one of her grandchildren and planning the New Year’s celebration at her home from afar. When visiting with her at Parkview I always came away smiling because Jan had a way of making us feel it would all be fine.

Knowing I would miss her daily texts, she told me to text her in heaven and she would answer in my heart. Jan was the most courageous person I have known. Although I suspect if we would say that to her she would have answered, “Not so much.”

Jan Helfritz taught us how to live. She taught us how to die. And most of all she taught us how to love. She will always be remembered because of her quiet influence on all of us, and I suspect she would like us to pass on the legacy of love she left with us. You will be missed, Jan.

Wells resident Julie Seedorf’s column appears every Monday. Send email to her at hermionyvidaliabooks@gmail.com.