As my regular readers know, I hate being sick. So I was deeply unhappy when I realized that the sore throat and stuffy nose I came down with last Monday wasn’t, as I had hoped, an allergic reaction to spending Sunday afternoon taking down our Christmas tree. It was a real cold. The good news was that I felt a little bit better with each passing day…until last night, when I began to lose my voice. I couldn’t talk at all by this morning, so I went to the local urgent care clinic for help.
It turned out to be inflamed vocal cords which should go away soon, and I’m already feeling much better. Partly because they gave me a steroid shot for the inflammation, but mostly because the staff that I dealt with at the clinic were so professional and kind. They listened to what I had to say, answered my questions, and explained exactly what my treatment would be. In short, they were ordinary people who took the time to do their job well, and that helped enormously.
I’ve reached the age where I’ve known too many good people who have died, and even more people who are mourning the loss of their own loved ones. So it shouldn’t have been a shock when my husband received a text from the wife of our handyman telling us that he had died of a sudden heart attack. But it was.
We’ve known Mike for many years, and liked him very much. He did high-quality work, and was friendly, dependable, and the sort of person who could fix or build just about anything. Mike did a lot of projects for us, and also worked on our son’s house, our daughter’s house and my mother’s house. You don’t spend that much time with someone and not get to know him fairly well, especially someone who likes to talk, as Mike did. He told us about his wife, whom he loved dearly, and about his beloved granddaughter, whom he adored. We knew he loved his dogs, and was an avid hunter and fisherman.
One way or another, my husband spent a lot of time talking to Mike, asking for his advice on various projects and often just “shooting the breeze.” I think it’s safe to say that the relationship between the two of them moved beyond employer/employee to real friendship. At least I know that’s the way my husband felt.
I’m not sharing this because I’m looking for sympathy for our loss, because that should be reserved for Mike’s family and close friends, who are in deep mourning. I’m sharing this because I think it’s important for us all to remember just how much good ordinary people doing their jobs well can do, and how much of a positive impact they can make on the people around them.
The people who get most of the attention aren’t really the important ones, in my opinion. It’s people like Mike and the staff I encountered at the urgent care clinic who really count. It’s the ones who are kind and honest, and who do their jobs to the best of their ability, and who are always ready to lend a hand when needed who are the people who truly make the world a better place. And I believe that they are the ones whose example the rest of us would do well to follow….
The past couple of weeks have been (mostly) wonderfully warm, with just enough rain to wash away the nasty tree pollen that triggers my allergies. The flowers are blooming, the trees are budding, and the birds are singing outside my window every morning. The days are getting longer, and it now stays light well into the dinner hour, which means we can both cook and eat outside on our patio.
That’s when it helps me to remember that at the end of every seasonal Winter, no matter how hard and how long it has been, comes Spring. The sun gets a little stronger, the temperatures a little warmer and the days last a little longer with each passing week. And that reminds me that the dark days in our personal lives don’t last forever either. It may take a long time, but eventually our burdens will feel just a little bit lighter, our hearts will feel just a little bit warmer, and our spirits will celebrate the arrival of our very own Spring.
Have you ever had one of those dreams that seems so real you had a hard time convincing yourself it wasn’t, and the emotions you felt in the dream stay with you long after you wake up? I once dreamed that my husband was cheating on me by dating the entire University of Iowa cheerleading squad, and also had the gall to tell me that it was “no big deal.” I was so angry when I woke up that it was all I could do not to slap him. And even though I knew it was just a dream, it still took me a few days before I quit glaring at him.
In just a few short days, those of us who live in the United States will be celebrating our Independence Day, also known as the Fourth of July. Traditionally, the holiday is observed with parades, bar-b-ques and fireworks, and I’m sure this year will be no exception. Despite the many serious issues that our country is facing, I think it’s a good thing for us to acknowledge and celebrate the “birth” of our nation and try to remember that, like it or not, we’re all in this together. My personal opinion is that we would do well to start concentrating far more on what unites us and far less on what divides us, but I know that is wishful thinking.
For me, that means holding my grandson while he’s still small enough to let me, even if the food on my plate gets a little cold while I do so. Or putting him in his stroller and taking him for a walk on a warm spring day, even when I have dozens of unfinished chores on my to-do list. It even means taking even a few minutes to actually play the piano I insisted on buying a few years ago, rather than just vowing to find the time play whenever I dust it.
One evening I was driving down the highway, my mind busy with its usual jumble of thoughts and concerns, when I came over the top of a hill and suddenly realized that I was driving straight into a spectacular sunset. It was just gorgeous, complete with a fiery red sun that radiated streaks of color across the sky as it dipped slowly into the horizon. I remember being surprised, because I have always associated beautiful sunsets with beach vacations, where the highlight of my day is often standing on a beach and watching the sun sink into the ocean. I couldn’t quite remember the last time I’d noticed a sunset in my hometown of St. Louis, since my house sits too low to see either sunsets or sunrises. And yet there it was: a sunset just as spectacular as anything I’ve ever witnessed on a beach vacation, even without the ocean.
I have always believed Sanibel Island is a beautiful place. And this visit didn’t change my view, despite the signs of damage and the piles of debris from the storm. Because this time, the beauty I saw wasn’t limited to the palm trees and the sandy white beaches. This time, I saw a community coming together through hope and hard work, repairing the damage and moving forward with determination and optimistic pride. And that was the most beautiful thing of all.