Humbled

This nine-year mark was the first that I didn't head north for the day, although it has been so good these last few years to have our joyful place to go to, rather than the place of the tragedy.

This was the first year I was able to think, "Can you afford almost 300 miles roundtrip in an unreliable car? Does not going bother you? Enough to charge the gas? Maybe borrow a car? Could you find peace on this day wherever you decide to be?" And finally, without guilt, I realize that I can find the spirit of my friend any time I am quiet, at any place of refuge and reflection. I have been feeling so very broken lately - alone and lost, scarred beyond repair at times, bitter beyond reach. Driving off to find greater self-pitying solitude, believing that no one could 'handle' me today, would not do me a shred of good.

"I no longer expect things to make sense. I know there is no safety. But that does not mean there is no magic. It does not mean there is no hope. It simply means that each of us has reason to be wishful and frightened, aspiring and flawed. And it means that, to the degree we are lost, it is on the same ocean, in the same night." ~ Elizabeth Kaye

I accepted the invitation to spend the day with Jean - my loving & adventurous friend who sailed that river ocean with me, year six. Seven miles enroute to her house, my car broke down. On a day such as this, I expected to fall apart. And that's not to say I wasn't feeling emotionally depleted, or that I wasn't disappointed in the financial depletement that I knew was coming, or that I wasn't more than a little embarrassed. Instead, I sat in my car, stalled amidst traffic on a freeway off-ramp, and thought - why did God want me here today? I could have stalled up north, where I'd be truly alone in the wilderness and in a T-Mobile "dead zone." Two weeks ago, I could have paid off my student loan with the contents of my savings account - but instead I had saved it for just one more month.

I could have broken down in a place where 16 people would NOT have stopped to offer assistance. (We won't talk about the 2 cops that passed by without so much as a glance, or the third who only slowed long enough to ask, "Will you have this out of the way soon?" We're all a little jaded, but really?) I could have let frustration win, instead of laughing at the inattentive antics of drivers on their phones as they stopped behind my car, failing to notice the hazard lights, the odd park job, or the woman sitting across the street in the shade with her cell phone and her latte. I could have had a girlfriend who dates a jerk and may have refused to come so far to pick up her friend. That girlfriend might not have had AAA, and wouldn't have been able to gift her friend with a free tow.

The repair shop could have sucked, but I had the best experience with car repair I've ever had as a woman. Jean, Matt, and I ate Chinese and shared an entertaining evening, and they gave me a 35 mile ride home after all that craziness. Tuesday, Lorrie came 32 miles out of her way to provide a ride to work, followed by Karen taking me to lunch and providing a 27 mile ride to pick up the car. The shop gave me a discount on the repairs.

The car broke down again the next day. Jean came 34 miles to pick me up, brought me 16 more miles to Forest Lake for my dad's 59th birthday. My parents offered me their spare car, but thanks to my friends I didn't need it. Thursday, Lorrie made the 27 mile trip to bring me back to the car shop a second time - where they didn't charge me a second time for the diagnostics.

I got an e-mail that night from Sharon Juliahna, a friend who helped clear a path to my heart's healing so long ago, sharing that some blood tests had shown the possibility of leukemia. And I wondered: why do we ever get upset about things like cars, like money, like missing work? So I asked for even more help from my friends, to pray for my dear friend, a friend they don't even know. When her diagnosis was confirmed the next day, my friends continued to pray, leaving supportive messages, loving her vicariously through their love for me.

I watched my father perform the research tests yesterday, the painfully slow decline of ataxia more apparent every year. And I was heartbroken, but I was reminded of friends who've already lost or are estranged from a parent. I was powerfully reminded that this university is the one I want to attend and perhaps even work for someday. Work may be the bane of my existence, but ever so often, like last night, I work with a partner who sees life as I do, and makes the right decision: to not rescusitate a hospice patient, even though the family could not locate the DNR order. A clear protocol violation which angered FD, and we'll surely be reprimanded - but we granted our patient his final dignity, and the family's tearful gratitude has already negated the lecture.

"To the degree that we are lost, it is on the same ocean, in the same night."

I have been humbled this week - by losing freedom in transportation, by realizing resources many don't have, in possessing comparatively solid health, and in never being as alone and unloved as I convince myself I am.

I am not riding this ocean alone. Thank you, all. You make my life.