I’m alive…that’s something to be grateful for.
Every once in a while, the Maker of Life has an opportunity to teach me something that affirms that truth–all the more valuable a lesson when I’m not feeling it.
Let me tell you the story…I’ll try to leave out painstaking details–some of which make the story even more powerful for me and may bore you, but include enough to make it become clear.
I bought a car last week. That’s a huge deal for me. Huge. It was purchased with careful thought, and growing excitement. I was to pick it up last Saturday.
Last Friday when we completed the purchase paperwork, they said to pick it up on Monday instead to allow them to have it properly cleaned. It was 2 days…no big deal.
On Monday, picked up the car, but the last of the paperwork to allow me to insure it wasn’t ready. Told me to come on Tuesday.
I was on my way to the dealership on Tuesday when they told me it still wasn’t ready. They called Wednesday, still not ready. Thursday it was ready—I picked the all important TOD up moments before closing.
Friday, I dashed away from work after a full day and got to Autopac 45 minutes before closing to get insurance for the car. Whew! Problem. They gave me the wrong “Transfer of Ownership Document”. It was for another car. After multiple calls to MPI—with lengthy waiting on hold, and back and forth to the dealership–again being on hold–we realized insuring it was not possible.
The fellow helping me with this insurance was irate…and to his credit, not at me, even though it was my dealings that kept him in his business 45 minutes after closing time on a summer Friday afternoon. He was angry on my behalf, at what he perceived was the ineptness of the dealership. He coached me on how angry to be, and what kind of compensation to demand—it was nice to feel his support. Don’t know yet how and when I’ll be able to insure this vehicle…but I expect it will happen. The dealership is working on it.
He asked me if I was the type to get angry. And I replied that at that moment, I wasn’t so angry as I was feeling “beaten”…one thing on top of another at the end of a busy week in a busy month in a busy life.
I hadn’t been home for 5 minutes after now what had been an 11 hour day of tasks, when I got a text to go pick up the youngest of our pack at a friend’s house. He had gone with friends to the funeral for the spouse of a loved teacher that day. I breathed deeply, and got up, feeling sorry for myself now…I needed a break but I had to get moving again.
I pulled up at the house, and M, my friend, came out of the house. Moving much more slowly than usual, he very quietly and deliberately said, “We got a call from Ontario less than an hour ago. My father died.” He stood there quietly, blank stare, mutely, shock clearly having its hold.
In an instant, his world had changed. He may be in his mid-50’s, but he is now an orphan. His father, the one who gave him life, raised him, supported him, and known him—that father was gone.
I had just been ready to tell him the drama of the car saga, on the tip of my lips, “You’ll never believe what happened to me today…” Suddenly, it was irrelevant, forgotten, and my internal reaction was one of vague foolishness. What had seemed so overwhelming just a few minutes ago was inconsequential, really.
We left after a few minutes of conversation, with him and his wife sitting on the stoop of their house, in silent stillness; shocked grief.
Next morning—yesterday, I was invited to a brunch at Pine Ridge Hollow (I highly recommend the buckwheat pancakes with lemon and ricotta) for a dear friend, R, who turned 50. R had invited a dozen or so women that were dearest to her to celebrate this milestone with her…and it was an honor to be included in that number.
As she welcomed us, she told us a story. Fourteen years ago this week, R had been at a party with friends from high school, celebrating the birth of a baby of one of their classmates. After a wonderful evening of food and friendship, someone suggested that they gather every year to celebrate. Someone then asked, “What would we celebrate the next year?” R’s best friend since high school, suffering from advanced cancer, leaned over and quietly spoke in her ear, “We can celebrate life. We can celebrate being here.”
R’s best friend lost her battle with cancer, and died less than a month after saying that.
So, remembering that,, R had gathered the women most important to her, and said, “So, today we celebrate life. We celebrate that we can be here. We celebrate that we are here.”
It reminded me of an experience I had many years ago, when I attended FAME (First African Methodist Episcopalian) church in South Los Angeles. It is a place of heaven in the midst of an area that was at the time, being challenged by gangs and socio-economic issues of enormous magnitude. The pastor opened the service with a booming prayer that was spoken with power, “Thank you Lord, that we awoke in our right minds this morning.” The people around me murmured their assent with this prayer…in the crime riddled neighborhood, just being able to awaken alive was something that was truly treasured. This was no idle prayer spoken offhandedly…these people were grateful for life and breath in a way that I take for granted.
I went for a walk this morning, admiring the greenery, the trees, the flowers, the life of cyclists and runners and babies in bike trailers. I was alive, and I was grateful. And life is good. The hassles and realities of life still exist, but my perspective has changed, and they move from the foreground to be replaced, front and center, by an appreciation of life itself.
Have a day of feeling alive. Revel in breath and life. Celebrate that you are here.
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