Some of you might remember the air raid sirens, where we ducked under our desks, covered our heads and held onto a leg of our desks. However, very few of us experienced the devastation from the bombings that followed.

Marie Doughty was one such child. In fact, in 1936, in her mother's arms, she became an orphan. Her mother was killed during a Hyde Park air raid in London and, at only 3 months old, baby Marie was shipped off to a Catholic orphanage in Leeds Yorkshire.

Three years later, Frank and Minnie Simpson were grieving the loss of their beloved son, in the war. Their other son, Douglas, suggested that they adopt one of the many orphaned children from the war.

"Back then it was like going to the pound and picking a puppy," remembered Marie. "There were so many homeless children from the war. I was three then and the nun said, 'You don't want that little girl - all she does is cry', but she came back a second time, because she wanted me, anyway."

"I never knew I was adopted, until later. It was kept a secret. It was a normal home, but was like a palace to me. My new older brother, Dougie, was my hero - so handsome in his uniform", Marie shared with the sparkle in her eyes of that little girl she once was. "I had scrambled eggs, porridge and bacon - a real breakfast, not like kids eat today. Because the walk was two miles to school, my mum would send me along with two older boys. She thought I'd be safe, not realizing that they didn't want me with them. So they'd throw rocks at me. I learned to tag along behind them and be quiet."

Marie was too young to remember the tragedy of the air raids and would love it when the air raid sirens would go off. "We shared an air raid shelter with the neighbors and us kids and our mums would climb down into the shelter and have hot chocolate."

However, Marie's experience with loss was not over, as her new father, who was also a prisoner of war, died of cancer, when she was only seven. Her mother became very protective and overbearing with Marie - most likely in fear of also losing her.

I asked her about school and how it was different than it is now. She said, "We always started with singing hymns and always ended with prayer. During recess, we'd play Rounders, a bit like baseball, and Kick the Can, which is similar to hide and seek".

At 17, Marie moved away from home to attend British Railways College and learned to be a telegrapher and phone operator. "The good telegraphers were very fast and if you missed it - well, you just missed it. There was no going back. When I worked the phones, we had those big long cords that you patch in. We'd listen in, when we got a Yank on the phone. We loved the accent and would flirt with them to keep them on the line, so we could hear them talk," she giggled.

It was at that college that she met Alec Doughty, her husband to be. "Alec was from London - the big city, and he was fascinated by this country bumpkin. He said it was love at first sight. I used to take the train into London and meet him at King's Cross. It was exciting, but after school, I went back to Leeds and he stayed in London, but he wrote me every single day. He would sign his letters 'I-L-U' (I love you). I signed mine 'I-L-T-U', which meant 'I love to tease you.' After about a year, I dropped the T. We were married in 1959."

Marie's beloved brother, Dougie, had moved to the States and her mother's insistence that she come over to visit her, every night, was too much for Marie. So, they decided that we would all move in together in a house in Long Island. After living in various states, Marie's mum moved back to England and Alec and Marie ended up taking jobs in Washington.

However, this tiny 4 foot, 101/2 inch woman's heartbreaking beginning turned into an amazing ministry to others. She has not only been a receptionist at Wesley Homes in Des Moines for almost 20 years, she also put into action her deep compassion for the elderly.

Twenty-four years ago, Marie created the Care Ministry. She and her volunteers go into the nursing homes and give that vital one-on-one attention to the lost and lonely. "We read books and Scripture to them, write their letters, let them talk about their lives and just be their friends. We become an extension of their family.
When they die, it's like losing a dear friend, but the rewards are the hugs that money can't buy and seeing a person's face light you, when you go into the room".

It's kindly people like Marie that make nursing homes a lovely place to finish our race.