Loretta Tucker has never lived a fancy life, something that doesn't seem to bother her at all.

She has, though, lived a life brimming with love, the kind of remarkable love that is both generously given and heartily reciprocated. The kind of love that is a reward for a life unselfishly lived.

I first heard of Miss Loretta, raised in the far upper reaches of Kentucky, when her sister Velma wrote me a letter.

This was also the first time that I discovered the unconditional love that is shared between Loretta and her family.

Velma explained that her 84-year-old sister, who is the oldest in a family of nine, was 21 when their mother died. The youngest sibling was 2.

Without hesitation, Loretta took over the mothering responsibility and devoted her life to raising the youngsters her 42-year-old mama had left behind.

When the last one graduated from high school, she met a Cincinnati policeman and, for once putting herself first, she married him.

She loved him deeply for five years before losing him, at an early age, to a heart attack.

Life, as you can see, hasn't been easy for Loretta Tucker. Still, she has never lost her sweet smile, her love for the Lord or her devotion to family.

Sister Velma wrote a couple of years ago that Loretta's favorite secular book is my first one and that she reads it over and over and makes notations in the margins. "It would make her day if you would write her a note," Velma explained.

So, I did and put together a package of goodies - Southern women always have to give gifts - and mailed it off to Loretta.

I expected it to end there but it didn't because Miss Loretta, the proper Southern-blooded woman, wrote a thank you and said something that made it impossible for me to disappear.

"All of my friends at church have passed away. I prayed that God would send me a new best friend and he sent you."

What was I to do?

I did all I could. I began a weekly correspondence with Miss Loretta, thinking, at first, that I was performing a good deed.

But it was Loretta, who was really up to her usual acts of loving generosity. Her letters are special and each one is treasured mightily.

She sends advice accumulated through years and worries, like my own mama, that I am not acting quick enough to find love and commitment.

She ends each letter with a reminder that, "I pray for you every night." That is awfully good to know.

For two years, we have been heart-sharing pen pals but I had never met Loretta until a speaking engagement took me to Cincinnati.

Loretta and her family showed up for the event and privately, each took me aside to thank me for my friendship to the woman they love so.

Later, I paid a surprise visit to Miss Loretta's modest apartment where I found framed photos of me and my dog Dixie Dew hanging on her walls.

I also noticed that the bundle of my letters are tied with a ribbon and lay by her favorite chair.

I am humbled that such a benevolent woman has welcomed me into her heart, which is the size of a full hunter's moon on a November night.

The irony is that my friendship was suppose to be a gift to Miss Loretta but it is her friendship to me that has turned out to be the real present.

There is nothing more special than a Southern woman who gives generously of her love and wisdom to those of us who need them. Thank you, Miss Loretta.