Two Ships That Passed in the Night

Thursday evening I sat in the endless line waiting for post-gymnastics pizza and cried and prayed

I wasn't crying for Ethan, although in a way I was.

My thoughts were for Corey, the young man I had just met at the gas station when I stopped to add a few gallons to my SUV because the gas gauge doesn't work correctly and I cannot trust it below a quarter tank.

I was just digging out my debit card to pay for gas so I didn't have to walk in and leave the two big Es in the car, when Corey passed by me in his pickup and pulled up to the other tank. I started around the back of my vehicle when Corey approached me with his cell phone in his hand and a note of desperation to his voice.

"Ma'am, can I ask you a favor?"

He was tall and lanky, his wardrobe thrown together in the way young men often dress with total disregard for what they're wearing, yet in a way that somehow works. You know the look, jeans and t-shirt, topped with a hoodie, a careless hat of some kind, and generally disreputable shoes. He had dark hair that his mom probably wishes he'd get cut, or at least comb.

"I shouldn't even ask you this, but I can't get my mom or dad on the phone, and I've gone as far as I can go. I'm out of gas and..."

"Sure," I said, because he was in so many ways Ethan. Still at that age of not quite remembering all the things it requires to keep a vehicle moving; not quite getting that whatever you plan on doing, put gas in the vehicle first. How many times had I heard that same lament from Ethan, about where he'd ran out of gas, had to walk, got someone to give him money?

I gave him a ten dollar bill.

Relief swept over his face. He wouldn't have to repeat the scenario, asking some stranger for money. He wouldn't have to deal with a lecture when he made it home late.

"Thank you<" he blurted.

"Can I give you a hug?" he asked, this tall, young man in the Hess parking lot.

I almost said please and I took his hug with all the longing my heart has for Ethan's.

He ran in to pay for his gas and when he came back I, having had time to think about the cost of gas, asked if that was enough. He said it was. I asked his name, told him I'd lost my son and he asked his name. He didn't know him. I told him I wanted to pray for him and to take care of himself.

We parted company in the parking lot, but he passed me again headed back out Rockford Street, weaving through traffic in that rushed way we all have when we're young.

I pulled into the Little Cesar's line and prayed for Corey, that God would protect him and lead him to better choices than Ethan, that his mom and dad could appreciate the wonderful miracle of their living, breathing son with all his mistakes and poor judgement, that he'd have the chance to be what he dreamed of being. I envied his parents, who might be hearing the tale of the woman who gave him gas money, and perhaps even learn that she had asked him name and told him about her dead son. I prayed for his mother that she could understand how wonderful it was to have him come home, that she never have to feel the way I've felt for the last two months.

This morning I said the same prayers again.

I also said a prayer for thanks for Corey, for the chance to reach out and remember that there are a lot of boys (and girls) still trying to make it, a lot of young men finding their way, a lot of families still with much to be thankful for.

I thank God for sending Corey and I to the same gas station. I thank God for Corey's hug.

Think Back Tuesday, What Brought Me Joy?

When I sat down at the computer to look back on the previous week, watching the birds still gorging themselves at the bird feeder and the "all you can eat" seed buffet in the snow-covered landscape, I thought, really, the last week hasn't been that joyful.

Peaceful, maybe, but not full of joy.

I didn't see the three Es for four days as the snow kept their daddy home from work for two days, then it was the weekend and they didn't make it to church Sunday. In fact, I've pretty much been home most of the last week, shrouded in a comforting blanket of snow that kept the world away.

Then I started thinking and there were actually a lot of random memories that brought a smile to my face.

1. The birds trying to work up the nerve to eat from the suet feeder while I was sitting in the sun just below them. This was after the snow, when the sun came out all bright and glorious and warm and I was in my shirt sleeves on the phone and had no intention of moving. The maple was aflutter with hungry birds who would swoop in for a landing, give me the eye and then flee without a bite.

2. The fact that I had my husband get two D batteries and still knew where the second one was at when the carbon monoxide detector started beeping. The other smoke detector and three crazed house dogs got me out of bed one night and I had put them on our weekly shopping list. Of course, the batteries come in a two-pack, so that wasn't the tough part. Actually knowing where it was at when the second one started beeping was the amazing part.

3. Snow. I dreaded the snow's arrival, but once it took over the landscape it was magical. It trapped me and my husband at home for a day without children or work. I decided it wasn't such a bad thing after all.

4. Going 24 hours without poop in W's cage. I keep W (no name to protect his identity) in my kennel all the time and he's this tiny, adorable little dog. Except he cannot go 8 hours without messing in his crate and every morning I'm greeted by the smell of dog feces. Sometimes, despite having been out a short time before, I'm greeted by that same scent in the afternoon or any other time I go back. When I went out Sunday morning, no mess. It was nice but it didn't last. Monday morning he had messed enough to need a bath.

5. Finally finishing Evie's turtle. Shortly after she was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder, and we began to talk about weighted lap blankets we came up with the idea of a lap pillow. She has always liked crocheted blankets, so a crocheted pillow might be good. She loved the idea of a turtle, but of course picked one that I could not find a free pattern for. So I made it up, it just took longer.

6. The younger woman at church who sees me as an "earth mother" and has given me the hippy name of Rainbow Sunshine. Her smile and hug at church are always welcome and make me smile in return.

7. Finally making it home Wednesday after having to drive in the snow for the first time in four years. I went to my daughter's home to babysit so the girls would not be out, but the snow came before my son-in-law got home, so I got to drive home in driving snow with all the other idiots out there. It was nerve wracking and I was so glad to get home.

8. Not having to drive in the snow after I managed to get home on Wednesday. Until four years ago, I've had to drive in the snow for 25 years because news doesn't quit when it snows. I was glad to sit at home and watch it snow and not have to worry about getting anywhere.

9. Grackles and skunks appearing on the landscape. The scent of skunks and the arrival of the grackles at the bird feeders, as unwelcome as they may be, are sure signs of spring. It's mating season for skunks and the birds have come back from wherever they spent the bulk of the winter.

10. My neighbors pushing snow. I could literally have hugged them both. One came by on a tractor pushing the road and then stopped to ask if I would like my driveway pushed. Absolutely. An hour or so later when I took a shovel out to dig out the cars, another neighbor stopped with a small loader and did the finer cleanup. I was left with very little shovel work and a lot of gratitude.

So take a minute now and think back on last week. What random things made you smile, even in the midst of all the less than joyful things that may have been going on around you? Snow cream? Safe travels? Unexpected time with family? Power that didn't go out? Pull those things out and treasure them and their memory to get you through the week ahead.

I dare you.

Thou Shalt Not Covet, But Sometimes I Do

It's one of the 10 commandments. It's the last one, which doesn't make it unimportant, but at least moves it on down the list. Right?

Thou shalt not covet. In other words, don't want what belongs to someone else.

Yet our society is full of coveting, if not what belongs to someone else specifically, then what we do not have. We're practically programmed by television to want more, better, different, to never be satisfied. Never mind that it goes against the basic ideas drilled into us from an early age in Sunday School. This time of year nearly every commercial break urges us to covet, to acquire, to want more and better. A good example are those in which someone gets a new car, but looks longingly at a different new car driving by. Seriously? If you give me a new car I will not complain, as long as I don't have to make payments on it.

I'm probably as guilty as a lot of people. But I don't covet someone else's husband, house or car. I wouldn't swap what I have for what someone else has with all the baggage that goes along with it.

I wouldn't want a bigger house with the monthly mortgage that would bring. Even if it were paid for, there's the increased cost of utilities, maintenance and taxes. Someone else's husband seems too good to be true; well, he probably is and mine is darn near perfect for me, thank you. And cars, well, I do miss having a convertible, but I wouldn't swap my paid for SUV for one I suddenly had to make payments on.

Often the things we covet, or desire for a more accurate term when we don't necessarily want a specific item, come with a lot of things we may not think about when we're doing the actual coveting. When we fall into that trap, we can make ourselves unhappy reaching for something that, when we have it fills us with regret or perhaps a long-term obligation like a hefty car payment or mortgage. No thank you.

What I find myself coveting is something so innocent and celebratory as a Facebook status. And I feel really bad when I do it.

After a hard week of tending dogs and children, facing a day of dog grooming and no real break in sight, I've found myself reduced to tears by someone else's plans for the weekend. It's a terrible reaction to their joy and how full my life is, but it still happens. Blame it on exhaustion and bad timing, but down deep it's still something ugly. It's jealousy and coveting, wishing my day was someone else's and their day was mine.

Often their status updates are something I once did and took for granted as they may do. Going out to breakfast and then a day of shopping, an evening out with the girls, or, heaven forbid, a trip to the beach.

I'll be honest, we have carryout food most every weekend for one or two meals. We go out to eat maybe once or twice a month. That's it. I miss not worrying about money and calories. Shopping is a trip for groceries or some serious time on Amazon or Ebay, it's not a recreational activity unless I'm wandering around Goodwill or its near equivalent. I cannot remember the last vacation we were able to take, but I know it was before I left my next to the last job, so lets say seven or eight years, minimum. It may have been a beach trip the fall we got married, which would put it at 10 years ago.

So, yes, I sometimes covet, but at the heart of it I realize it isn't their lives I covet, it's the life I once had. Yet, at the same time, I'm so glad to not have that life any more that those little bits and pieces that I miss are hardly worth the time it takes to miss them. And it's only during those really already blue moments that I even think of them at all.

When it comes right down to it, I know that my life is full of things that other people covet as well.

If I make it to my workout classes or even walk dogs or workout with a YouTube video in my living room, there are people who wish they were physically able to exercise, or had the motivation to do it.

When I post a picture of my grandchildren, there are a lot of people who wish they had grandchildren of their own, or who wish they were able to spend so much time with them and be such a big part of their lives.

If I brag or complain about my children, there are people who miss the children they never had, or the children that they love who are no longer with them.

Even ifI talk about a busy day in my kennel when I'm exhausted by everything I've had to get done, there are undoubtedly people who wish they were self employed and suffering the same exhaustion.

When I feel myself falling into that coveting mode, wishing for things I don't have, I need to remind myself of those facts, those things I still take for granted that are blessings many people don't enjoy. We might all take a minute to think of our lives and Facebook posts in that light sometimes. It may make us appreciate what we have a whole lot more.

I might also try to be sincere when I congratulate my friends on what they have, instead of mentally begrudging them the things I miss or still want. That part of the equation may take a little more work, and its success will probably depend on how tired and frustrated I am at any given time.

But it's a worthy goal and perhaps will help me turn my occasional covetousness into genuine gratefulness, for myself and those I care about as well.