Here Among Us

"Just to be is a blessing.

Just to live is holy."

~ Rabbi Abraham Heschel

I was standing at the gas pump earlier this week, my attention turned inward. I was worrying about all the usual stuff that can weigh on me like a wet, wool blanket. You know that "stuff." It's scratchy, too heavy for the weather, and smells damp and stale. You're kind of tired of worrying about it, but you don't have the energy to slough it off either. Sometimes the discomfort of that blanket distracts from important things. I stop smiling at people on the street; I forget to engage my Trader Joe's cashier in conversation; I don't notice the way green grass is finally poking through the tired, grey last-year's grass; I am not really present when my kids are talking to me.

As I was filling my gas tank Monday morning, wrapped in that heavy blanket of worry, a man walked up to me and said he liked the color of my shirt. It was just an ordinary T-shirt, sort of a goldenrod color. To be honest I think it makes me look kind of pale and sallow, but he was very enthusiastic about it. He said my whole outfit went together so nicely. He smiled like he'd just seen an amazing sunset or a double rainbow. Then, with true warmth and sincerity, he said, "have a better than imagined day." I lit up at this, smiling back and telling him to do the same. 

Then he was gone. So was that wet, scratchy blanket of worries. And I was left with the challenge of re-imagining my day.

I began to consider the possibility this day carried with it. And I was reminded how sometimes it hardly takes any effort at all to bring someone joy. Because this stranger told me to have a day that was better than I imagined, I was determined to try. I realized the Monday I had imagined up until that point was pretty dull and flat. The day I had been imagining wasn't much more than a schedule and a to do list. Where was the music and color in this day I had imagined? Where were love and connection found in my Monday schedule?

I decided the best thing to do when someone gives you the gift of fresh perspective is to pay attention. Later that morning I was riding the city bus with one of my students. A woman with a small child got on the bus. There were no seats and she was trying to hang on to the child and the bus with some difficulty. A young black man was on the bus too, the kind of young, black man so often maligned in our society. He was wearing a somewhat tattered backpack and was burdened with two unwieldy shopping bags. Still, without hesitation, he stood and offered his seat to the woman and her little boy.

That afternoon I was walking at the harbor with a student who wears leg braces. Walking is challenging for her so we were arm in arm. She also doesn't talk, but she squeezed my arm really hard every time she saw something that delighted her: a wave breaking, a seagull, a flag blowing in the breeze. Each squeeze tuned me in to the every day beauty I might otherwise take for granted. Then, as we were maneuvering through tourists along the sidewalk, we crossed paths with a man wearing a leg brace. He smiled at me appreciatively and put his hand on my shoulder, just for a second. The kind intention of his touch stayed with me long after he passed.

Though I still had my worries and complaints tucked away in my back pocket, my better-than-imagined day carried on throughout the week. On Thursday I was with a student who uses a wheelchair. We had just arrived at her job and were about to say good morning to the security guard. He always greets us warmly and usually has a friendly remark for me or my student. Well, today he stopped me. He said he wanted to tell me how much he appreciated the work I do. This is not unusual. When you work with people with disabilities, people often say nice things about the work you do. But today, this big, line-backer of a security guard actually got choked up talking about how moved he was. He made grand assumptions about me that I could not possibly hope live up to. And then, with tears in his eyes, he kissed me on both cheeks!

The things this man said were so kind and flattering, but what touched me was HIS capacity for compassion and his heart felt expression of it. This big, sweet man needed to tell me how moved he was. He could not contain the love in his heart. That says a lot more about him than it does about me. I was just glad that I was present for it, really present. It warmed me right up! People with love and joy to share are right here among us. They're like the angels in the Wim Wenders' film, Wings of Desire. They look just like ordinary people. I'm learning that if I'm receptive to it, there's a lot of goodness and love to be found in the ordinary people I cross paths with every day. And when I let that love in, I'm better able to give it away.

Almost every evening during this week of better-than-imagined days, I sat down with my kids after dinner, wherever they happened to be doing their homework. I put off the dishes and the laundry and the million other "shoulds" clamoring for my attention, and just sat with them. Amazing things happened. My conversationally challenged teenagers started talking to me! In fact, we had some of the best conversations we've had in a really long time. And all I had to do was show up!

I paid attention. I showed up. I let love in. I gave some way. All while going about my ordinary life. Wow. ~ May YOU have a better than imagined day.