Change is the end result of all true learning. (Leo Buscaglia)
I am in the locker room at the Y after a water aerobics class. I hear disconcerting voices around me. They seem loud—too loud.
“You wouldn’t believe…” comes one voice. “It was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” states another.
I sigh while the spinner absorbs chlorinated water from my swimsuit. Getting the machine started takes some muscle since I need to stand on tiptoe to press the top down, but once the whir begins the excess water disappears within seconds. I can surmise a situation in the same amount of time, with or without all the facts.
Was it really the worst thing that ever happened to you? Or is this statement meant to be exaggerated..? I’m glad my thoughts don’t appear out loud because I haven’t heard anything about this person’s story, not really. And it isn’t my business anyway.
One woman is talking to another as the two prepare for the next water class, a slower moving one. She complains too, or at least that is my first impression. She injured her back and I expect her to give all the details. She catches my eye.
“I did, too,” I say. “Spinal stenosis. Nothing serious. I have exercises that help. I’ll get through it.”
She gives me her name and I give her mine. But the surprise comes as I pick up my bag to leave and she walks toward the pool. “I’ll pray for you if you will pray for me.”
I can’t turn down that offer, so I ask her to add our Ella to her list.
“Wow!” she says. “That sure puts a perspective on things. Such a little girl having open heart surgery like that.” She takes my hand. I’ve never met this woman before and yet she treats me as if she has known me for years. I feel blessed. The pain in my back weakens, at least for a while.
The next time I return to the Y my companion is present again. We greet one another by name.
“I remembered to pray for your granddaughter,” she says.
I wince. I offered a ten-second prayer for her. But, I know I can and will do better. Then, as I reach into the locker I wince again, from a stretch that felt a little peculiar.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Yes. Really. I am.”
“You have an incredible smile,” she tells me.
I thank her. She has given me another gift, one I hope to remember. Today I have an agenda, a to-do list that becomes easier as I think about other people’s needs, not only my own, and hum the song I wrote and recorded for my granddaughter when she had her first open-heart surgery. She was only a few months old and confined to a giraffe bed in a neonatal intensive care unit then. Her underdeveloped system needed all of its energy for survival. It could not handle extra sounds. I don’t have the facility to transfer the song to this website, but a click on Ella’s Song leads to an older page I no longer maintain.
Finding the good in life, sometimes hidden under a lot of misunderstanding, challenge, and plain old-fashioned self-imposed garbage remains one of my goals. Our little girl has come a long way. I hope to follow her spiritual lead even further as she grows into year six, a few months from now.
Peace upon all.
terrypetersen 