February 24, 2010

• It had been two months since I had made my rounds. On my January driving day the sky was snowing cats and dogs, and thus the Senior Center was closed. So today I was looking forward to returning to my routine, which has grown to a 52-mile round trip.

  It surprises me that I’ve grown attached to my friends. A quick meeting at the door or just inside, a hand-off of their hot lunch, and a few words of greeting and concern do not allow much relationship-building time. But I can’t dally because the lady at the end of my route gets irate when her lunch is late. She says hotly, “I’ve been doing business with these people for twenty years, and you can be late on someone else’s time!” There’s no point in protesting, “But Mrs. X, this isn’t a business! It’s a service provided to you, and I’m just a volunteer who is giving up my morning to bring your lunch to you, hot and fresh.” Mrs. X expects her hot lunches to be on time, and so Mr. Y must do without sharing a long-winded explanation of his latest ailment.

  Does this sound like I’m complaining? I am decidedly NOT. In fact, I say it all with a smile, for I have learned to appreciate their quirks (even Mrs. X’s grumpiness) and just really want to meet their needs. It is such a little bit of help to them, but it is truly a blessing to me to be able to do this. Every time I drive, I feel immeasurably uplifted and rewarded. (And I feel just a tiny bit justified in driving our big, gas-guzzling SUV when I can use it for the good of others.)

  Today, though, was different. I’m not sure why, but my eyes (read: heart) were open just a bit wider….or my level of understanding was a notch higher. Perhaps it was missing last month and knowing that a harsh winter is harder on these folks than on me. For some reason, I was seeing things in a different, more honest light.

  The sacks of empty beer cans on the tumbledown porch of the malnourished, addled alcoholic who is intent on drinking himself to death were more pathetic than ever. The lank, unwashed hair of the woman old beyond her years pricked my womanly pride. The sweet hug of the lady who thinks I’m so special was almost sweeter than I could bear. So I should have seen it coming.

  She was bald when I first began to bring her meals, and some days the chemo left her so weak she couldn’t make it to the door. The added burden of advanced MS causes her to fall often, and today her face was bruised and battered from a recent tumbledown. But her smile was in place, even as she came to the door apologizing for being in her nightgown so late in the morning. She just hadn’t been able to get dressed yet. I said I hoped she could get outside just a bit, to enjoy the sunshine, and she replied she had hoped to go to the post office for her mail today…it had been a week… but just didn’t think she’d better attempt to drive. It might not be safe, and she sure didn’t want to hurt anyone.

  It was so obvious….I could pick up her mail and bring it back to her. Such an easy, peasy thing for me to do, with my full tank of gas, nice, dependable vehicle and (mostly) limber legs to haul me in and out of it. So I took her box key, finished my route and picked up her mail. Such a simple thing, really.

  Forty-five minutes later, when I drove back to her trailer and handed her the mail, she in turn handed me an envelope and shyly said, “It’s just a thank you note. I really appreciate you getting my mail. You don’t know how much it means to me.”

  
  We said goodbye, I climbed back into my car, and as I drove away, I opened the envelope and found this note.

                      

  And that was when I had to stop again, as the tears that had threatened all day brimmed over. Here I was, trying to bless her, and I wound up being the blessee. You just can’t out-give God, can you?

  • 10:54 am
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