People Are People

Enter De Peche Mode keyboard playing in the background for full effect...

Boy, I'll tell you what.  I continue to be humbled by my journey here.  From the birth of Charlotte, which didn't exactly go as I envisioned.  She was sunny side up, my placenta got stuck which led me to the O.R., I lost a tremendous amount of blood, etc.  To my post partum depression and issues surrounding nursing.  Or lack there of.  And now, my knee is jacked up, leaving me with limited work out options.

The message God is sending me is clear:  Slow down.  Be in the moment.  Pay attention.   What worked for you in the past, will not work for you this time.  It's so frustrating.  But humbling.

I think it's comical how I continue to think I'm in control of my life.  I just keep getting broken down.  I feel like I'm the Six Million Dollar Man...without any strength.   Or maybe I'm  the Bionic Woman...without the cool sound effects, and kick ass jumping ability.  But one thing is for sure:  I'm being rebuilt.  Emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

So I had this big light bulb moment today.  People are people.  Everyone has a story, and all of our threads intertwine in some way.  But it's up to us to make this united tapestry beautiful.  The only way we can do that, is if we stop being caught up in US, and instead,  pay attention to others, and what they may need in that moment.

So, I'm in line at Trader Joe's and the woman in front of me starts asking about Charlotte.  You know, all the typical Q and A...how old is she, what's her name, is she your first child (that's my favorite question, by the way).  I just love to see people's reaction.  It's like money every time.

Anyways, so she and I are talking, and all of a sudden, she looks at my dead on, and says, "Is your name Michelle?"

I usually get sorta nervous when people ask me that, cause I start racking my brain, thinking, "Oh dear God, what illegal act did this innocent bystander watch me commit?"

She continues, "I played basketball against you in high school.  I went to Mitty."

Talk about a small world.  I mean, we played basketball against each other, TWENTY years ago.  But not much has changed.  Here I was, in line at TJ's, without any makeup, hair up in a pony, donning my workout gear.  I was shocked she recognized me and knew me by name!  So our threads are still connected.

Right before Christmas, the girls went to the shelter with my aunt to hand out candy, and basically, blow some Christmas sunshine up you know where.  I accompanied with the baby in the sling, not really knowing what to expect.

Here's what I saw:  people that looked the same as you and me.  A mother and daughter who were dressed well.  Another woman who had just gotten a job at Target.  A young black man with clean clothes, and big guns...and I'm not talking about weapons.  Dude looked like he just got done working out at the gym.

As I walked by the folks in line, waiting for dinner, many inquired about Charlotte.  Babies are just so darn approachable.  And think about it.  No matter who we are now, we were all as small and helpless as Charlotte at one time.  Their eyes lit up as I walked past them.

But the highlight was watching the girls do their "work" joyfully.  You know how you wonder how your kids behave when they leave you?  Well, they forgot I was there, and just went about their bizness.  And it was such a pleasure for me to watch them LOVE helping out.  Again, an example of  the threads being held together.

As I waited at Kaiser to have my knee X-rayed, I realized I had never been surrounded by so many folks that were injured.  One guy said out loud, "Just give me the cortisone shot."  He didn't WANT to know how bad off the damage was in his knee, and I could totally relate.  Another woman, who sat across from Abby and I, had broken BOTH wrists when she fell off a balance ball at the gym.  Think about that scenario...both hands.  She was left not being able to feed herself, wipe herself, or clean herself.

I won't lie.  I had myself a little pity party when the doc showed me the list of activities that I couldn't do:  NO running, NO lunging or squats, NO hills, and absolutely NO dancing on any kind of bar while intoxicated.  But I had a choice in that moment:  focus on what I couldn't do, or focus on what I COULD do.  I chose the later, because seeing those folks who were more severely injured than me, put it in perspective.

While out on my WG jaunt today, I encountered Lou, a woman who's home I have passed for the last 10 years.  Her kids are grown, and she's just a positive, loving lady.  I asked, "How was Christmas?"  She answered, "We've had better.  My daughter was held up at gunpoint at her work on Christmas Eve."  We stood there entranced, as she explained the details, assuring me that her daughter is "okay, but changed, from the experience."  Lou said, "Gee, aren't you sorry you asked how my holiday was?"  I said, "Not at all!"

Because truth be told, if I was running today, Lou and I wouldn't have had that conversation.  Sure, we would have waved at each other, and hollered hello, but that would have been about it.

So I'm glad that I was forced to slow down today.

Because we all have a story.  More often than not, we just want someone to listen to it.

I wish you could experience what I am hearing first hand as I blog this very moment.  My loudly, snoring husband in the bed beside me.  And Charlotte whistling through her gums like an old drunk lady, in her bassinet while she sleeps.  Am I being in the moment if I watch them while they slumber?  How my baby is the color of porcelain?  And how my husband has his fingers clutched over his chest as it rises and falls.

Life is good.  Even if I can't run right now.