There are a few things that people might not know about me. Some funny, some odd; some not. When I was a junior in high school I earned my first degree black belt. At the time it was one of the more difficult goals I had ever achieved; and certainly, at seven years in the making, the longest. When I was in college I played Volleyball and by the time I graduated I had improved my skills to match my physical abilities, and at 6'4" I tried out for a North American team that would travel to China for a summer to play in international tournaments. My team's focus was to, if "asked," discuss our personal beliefs in God. For those processing, yes China is and was at the time, a communist country.
You see, I believe in God. Even with my evolution accepting, research oriented mind, I don't see how one can deny the existence of an omnipotent being. With the beauty and diversity existing in our natural world, along with the absolute perfection of the human body, for me denying the existence of a God is like calling gravity a liar. You simply can not.
I, like many others, have struggles in my faith (insert a book's worth of notes here). And what I find absolutely amazing about human consciousness is how despite our struggles and doubts, in times of stress we revert back to our faith. Like an innate need such as food and water, our faith helps to heal pain when there is absolutely nothing left for us to do but turn to God in a plea for help. Like a reservoir built for water, our faith is a place to retain that pain and heartache. Which then seems to let up, even if it’s just a little bit.
A loved one has recently been diagnosed with a terminal cancer; certainly a time to turn to prayer for peace and comfort. Of course I pray for the patient; but also pray for the family members be it sons and daughters, his wife, and his grandkids. When it’s the family of a dear friend, I feel that sense of being once removed. I seem to watch the situation unfold, but from the second row. I can feel it; I sense it- the anxiety, the anticipation and the nervousness. I’m there even though it’s not my Father that’s ill. It acts as a reminder to count my blessings and to forgive and forget all the things I once deemed so appropriate to spite over. Suddenly, I remember just how mortal we are, and how quickly disappointing news of an end in sight can cross my path on any given day.
As I watch from the second row, this seemingly movie like story continues to unfold. I know the ending, we all do; I just don't quite know how it will unfold. Either way, I know it’s going to hurt a lot, and I can't make sense of why it all has to be this way. After receiving word of his condition, as a gesture, I wanted to send something to him in the hospital. Being a seventy-nine year old man, flowers seemed lackluster, as did a teddy bear or any sort of "get well" message. Instead I sought after something that I knew about him. He is a thinker, a man of current social understanding and awareness. When we cross paths (often in the summer) he saves the daily paper for me. He knows me well enough to understand I like to catch up on what's happening, but frankly, too cheap to pay the 75 cents myself. This man, despite being a "retired professor" still finds time to write grants for his former employer in addition to working at Border's during the holidays. Of course! I need to buy him some magazines and a book or two!
I quickly called the downstate hospital and was transferred to the gift shop, where I recall the conversation.
"Hello - gift shop"
"Hi, um do you sell magazines and stuff?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry no we don't, all we sell is flowers" she reported.
Disappointed yet accepting I said, "Okay... thanks anyways" and I hung up.
I then started calling a few books stores in the vicinity only to find out they don't deliver. But then my phone rang, and despite being a number I did not recognize, it had a downstate area code so I answered.
"Hello" I cautiously greeted.
"Hi, yeah. um… my name is Beth.. and I work at the gift shop in the hospital, and someone just--"
I cut her off to assure her it was I that she recently spoke to, hoping to save her from her self-inflicted awkwardness.
She went on, "Yeah, okay, well after I hung up I got to thinking and I went down to our coffee shop, ‘cause they have magazines, so I asked and found out I could take your card down there and purchase them, and then I could go deliver them to the room for you."
Yes, at this point I paused and thought scam for merely a split second. After all it’s what we have become accustomed to think in this media driven, fear based society; but then I smiled and thought this is awesome. Beth went on to read the dozen or so titles of the magazines she had taken the time to write down, so that I could indeed pick out just the right magazine my friend would enjoy.
"Let’s go with Time, Newsweek and This old House" or something to that effect.
Beth responded "okay, there are some smutty ones too if you wanted?" Her voice elevated at the end of the question, signaling doubt in her thought to offer them.
"Um no thanks, he is 79” I chuckled, “I think he is good with Time."
I went on to ask about the flowers she sells. It was Sunday and they were well picked over she explained. But we agreed that an assortment of a few daisies in a blue vase was as masculine as flowers were going to get.
Beth took my credit card information, the whole while I stood in my kitchen grinning. Here is this person who had it in her heart to take the time to problem solve for some stranger. A half an hour before closing on a Sunday evening, this young woman hustled down to a neighboring business, jotted down all the titles, because in her heart she felt compassionate towards the situation. It's truly a study on the human soul; maybe Darwin would say it's genetic, but I simply have my doubts.
As for God, he intervened. In addition to the magazines and flowers, I also ordered some hard candy for my friend. She began to rattle off a few candy selections, before I interrupted her and said I don't know, just pick whatever. We squared up the sale, and that was it. Just another receipt for the store, but so much more for those involved.
Beth, I don't know if you will ever read this. But the fact that you picked out the sugar free candy really scored me some points. My friend is diabetic and at the time it didn't register to me to get that particular kind. He said I must really know him well. I sheepishly admitted to his son I didn’t
exactly pick out the candy myself. That’s also when I found out this terminally ill patient's wife had read the Time magazine that was sitting on his bed stand one evening. While he slept, she read an article towards the back of this month's issue; it's on handling greif and understanding it.
I feel the need to resist summarizing my intentions in telling this story. There simply is nothing sweeter to say, and nothing I could do to make this any better. There is still grief to be had and a path that must be walked by this family; but by God Beth, did you ever help us all out. You helped him in passing time during an uncomfortable and at times lonely situation (with a little bit of candy too I might add), you helped his wife out in a time of need and you certainly helped me out.
I still can’t seem to do justice to my thoughts and emotions with all of this. But I'm confident this story will mean different things for different people.
February is coming to a close, and I have to say, it's been a rough one. I have been dragging my feet on updating the blog due to the fact that I simply can't just write another post after the subject matter of the last one. I've since lost a friend, gained a lot of support and have found out society is a lot better than I once thought. Still, it is a loss, and to know the heartache others feel over losing a Husband or a Father or even a Grandfather... well... it just sucks.
