Estelle sent this to Shelly on 10-26-20
"Sometimes a person doesn’t know the impact they leave on the hearts of others.
Hey Shelly,
It’s Estelle. I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner. I meant to. I thought of you and Mike throughout 2020. When I think of you and mike, I think about a Great Love Story. For as long as you’ve been married, and the things you’ve weathered together, and hard work you must have both put into your Great Love Story. While standing next to Dr. Schermer at a work function, or scribing in the exam room for Dr. Schermer, I witnessed so many times when associates or patients would express their wonder at Dr. Schermer’s career. And so many times, Dr. Schermer would say “I couldn’t have done it without my wife, Shelly.”
Maybe sometimes a person doesn’t know the impact they leave on the hears of others. Maybe they sometimes do. I want you to know the memory that always comes to mind when I think of you, Shelly.
The Cocoa Miracle
It was December 8, 2013, and Kyle and I were helping at the USABA booth at the CIM. It was early, like 7:00am, and the Schermers had been there since even earlier. It was the third coldest I’ve ever been in my life. It was about 35 degrees. (I’ve checked google to make sure my memory is right.) I had dressed warmly, in warm pants, and two shirts, and a warm jacket, and gloves, but it was still so biting cold that I could not stop shivering and my toes burned line an icy fire. I kind of wanted to leave, but Shelly and Mike were like bundled-up cheerleaders and I pep-talked myself that if they could do it, I could.
Waiting for the runners to come in was a long time. I heard rumor of a café down the street which hadn’t yet sold out of all their stock, and I took Kyle with me. Mainly for the warmth of the walk, and the hope of getting some warm drink. We got 4 cups of cocoa, for Kyle and I and Mike and Shelly. When we got back, we gave them their cocoas. It wasn’t long before Shelly and/or mike gave their cocoas away to others. Then Shelly went for a walk. She came back with 4 large cups of cocoa (all she could carry herself in a paper tray), right before the runners started coming in.
And her is the miracle.
She started dividing cocoa into empty cups. There were drinks brought by the Schermers to the booth, you know, bottles of water, soda, Gatorade, juices. My recall is the booth didn’t have an electrical hook-up, so the booth couldn’t provide warm drinks that year. The runners would come in, red with exertion and adrenaline. So, Shelly started dividing these 4 cups of cocoa, and every time I though she must surely be out, she’d pick up one of the original cups of cocoa, pour some out in a cup, and hand it off to a runner. And it was to a point that I was a little worried she was to dash someone’s hot cocoa hopes because she was offering hot cocoa long past the point of what four cups of cocoa should last, but Shelly knew exactly when to finally put the cups away when the cocoa did run out. Probably a dozen runners over a 30 minute period, huddled together to share comraderies and excitement and cheer, all holding, cupped in both hands so as to gain every bit of warmth, their cups of hot cocoa.
And Shelly, I can’t seem to get the exact words I mean about why exactly that memory is what I think of every time I hear your name. It’s something about the strength of your character just in that small moment, believing that you had enough, and not only that but more than enough to share with everyone around you. And you proved me with a good example to follow. You did that act, and probably never thought of it again, and maybe you won’t even remember it now. Sometimes a person doesn’t know the impact they leave on the hearts of others.
My love to all Schermers, my thought are with you.
Estelle 10-23-20
Addendum: Estelle and Kyle moved to Portland where they became man and wife. Two packets of cocoa were included with this lovely letter.
