Care for Everything We Touch

Last Sunday, the deacon at our church talked about caring for everything we touch and touching it reverently.  As she stated those words, I thought of the man who had washed my car the day before.  I admittedly don't wash my car very often, but that day, I was struggling to see out of the windshield, so I knew it was time to wash off some of the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the summer months.  I headed to a local car wash where it is part automated and partly done with the human touch.  The man who washed my car that particular day was new to me.  I must say that I have never had someone wash my car so carefully (not even when I do it myself).  I watched from inside the car as he methodically, carefully, slowly and meticulously wet down the vehicle's exterior, scrubbed at the windshield, headlights and front grill, and turned the mirrors inward so that the slapping of the whirring cloths wouldn't disturb them.  After my car traveled through the automated portion of the cleaning process, the gentleman was there to meet me, towels in hand to wipe the car dry.  Again, I watched how carefully, reverently he cleaned every surface of my vehicle, using his fingers to carefully extract some pine needles that just wouldn't wash away from the depths of the area where the windshield wipers lay.  This man lived our deacon's words: caring for everything we touch and touching it reverently.  This gentleman came into my life over Labor Day weekend.  What a shining example he was of taking his labors seriously and touching everything he did with reverence.  My car has never been washed quite so kindly.

Elbow Grease

Over Labor Day weekend, Larry and I decided to act on the short home-project list that had been assembling over the summer months.  We visited a local large store where we knew we could get the supplies we needed.  Once we had the tools, we knew that all we required was our own elbow grease and the tasks would be done quickly.  Such large stores often bewilder us because there are so many items and so much space in which to place them.  Knowing that it would take us forever to find what we needed, we approached a group of three gentlemen who worked at the store. One responded right away to our question and not only told us where to find all of what we needed, he personally guided us to each location throughout the store, expertly weighing the pros and cons of each product to help us match the most cost-effective solution to our obvious lack of experience and skill.  We monopolized his time, bombarding him with questions; yet, he didn't act hurried or impatient.  Instead, he kindly explained things to us in terms we could understand, making suggestions not only about products and implements, but also how to best use them.  When I asked him how he got to be such an expert about so many home projects, he explained that he used to be a handyman.  He was humble in accepting thanks and compliments from us.  He simply replied that he likes helping people.  As I reflected about Labor Day and what it means to have the blessing of work, I thought with gratitude about this man who was the epitome of customer service.  Through his labors that Labor Day weekend, he was graciously being a blessing to others.

Fleeting Thoughts

My friend Kitty is wise and eloquent.  In a recent email, she shared her insights about the temporary nature of life.  Truly, most things are temporary, possibly nearly everything but love.  I got to thinking about how the days can seem long, the day-to-day changes small.  Yet, when looking back, one can see with new eyes the rapid passage of time and the changes that happened perhaps without our even noticing them.  Such thoughts of the fleeting, temporary nature of life make me redouble my efforts to appreciate each moment, live in the present, give of myself with generosity, and let go of the perplexities, worries and fears that can mar my day (or at least my thinking part of the time).  Instead, I will fill those fleeting moments with joy, gusto and appreciation.  At some point, we may have the opportunity to look back on the entirety of our lives.  If and when I have the opportunity to do so, I want it to be a review of all that was good and giving, fully aware that each fleeting moment, each fleeting thought was a gift of immeasurable value.  I am reminded once again of my late mom's favorite Bible passage:  "This is the day that the Lord has made.  Let us rejoice and be glad in it."  So be it.

Angels Watching Over Us

As I went to bed the other night, I noticed two small white moths perched on the outside of our bedroom window.  The light from the moon and the backyard security lights illuminated them as they rested on the center pane of the large three-pane glass.  They were so still and so lovely that I called Larry to the window to observe them with me.  The two of us took turns studying the delicate, little creatures, their opaque wings, their minuscule bodies.  Larry is not one to utter religious or even spiritual talk, so I was quite surprised when his last words of the night before we closed our eyes was that the moths were there as angels to watch over us.  With those gentle, affirming words, I ended my day, watching the two white moths on our window until my eyes grew heavy and my awake-thoughts were transported away.  I fell asleep smiling, happy with my place in the world, grateful for my gentle and kind husband by my side, and secure in the thought of having two angels watching over us.

Out on a Limb

A few Sundays ago, my husband Larry and I had the fun of traveling to the eastern side of the state to attend the 80th birthday party of my aunt.  I hadn't been with my family since my mom passed away nearly two years ago.  I was pleased to spend the day in celebration of a momentous birthday, but I was also celebrating that I would get to be with family for the greater part of a day.  As a now parentless, childless, only child, I have learned that there can be a loneliness in such a distinction.  I've found that I increasingly crave the experience of being with those who are part of my family tree.  That day, I no longer felt the rather isolating feeling of being out on the small limb.  Instead, I was enveloped by the much larger branch, surrounded by loving people who are a part of me and I a part of them.  I believe it is a common human experience to want to be part of a greater whole.  That day, I found that experience, that greater whole to be just what I needed.  I'll make sure that I foster continued and more frequent interaction with all of those lovely and loving people who I have the privilege of calling Family.

Rest from Labors

On this Labor Day, I reflect on work and, specifically, the work I have done this summer. Last Friday, I completed a 12-week, limited term position with Sauk County government.  I was sorry to see it end, for the experience was challenging and educational and the people kind and caring.  It was as if my summer was a time of discovery and exploration, learning new things and being with new people in a new setting.  For the past four months, I have been recuperating from many years of constant work that were dotted with personal trials of illness and loss.  While a difficult choice to make, last spring I chose to leave a rewarding position that I had held for 12 1/2 years.  By doing so, I gave myself the almost unheard-of gift of time to refresh and start along a new career path.  We rarely have the luxury of making time to examine ourselves, learn what is really in our hearts and minds, and then embark on a new direction to suit the people we realize we have become.  That has been my summer -- learning and growing while freelance writing, volunteering for our Baraboo Big Top Parade and working at Sauk County.  I thank the good people of Sauk County government for helping me with my exploration and giving me invaluable insights as I chart new waters.

Weight/Wait of Life

Our pastor spoke of the weight of life one recent Sunday.  I thought about the term and then thought of how it could also be the wait of life (same pronunciation, different meaning).  Either way, each of us likely has experienced the weight or wait of life.  In the first instance, we are bent -- or sometimes broken -- by the weight of our responsibilities, sorrows, worries, fears and challenges.  In the second instance, we are plagued with impatience as we wait for news, be it good or not.  I think of the times when I have been ill and waiting to find out if the diagnosis was cancer or not.  Those were times of the weight and wait of life.  Lately, I've been experiencing the latter, as if I'm in a holding pattern, waiting for the right thing, the clearer path to be revealed to me.  While the weight of life can be unbearable, I've found the wait of life to almost be the opposite.  When I let go and trust, there is no weight in my wait.  There is only goodness, growth and gratitude to be found along the journey.