Five Really Short Stories
1. While I waited for a friend, I sat at a tiny bistro table, with a cup of cinnamon-plum tea. Two women sitting close to me were talking. One of them said to the other, “you really have a servant heart.” It was expressed so simply. She didn’t say, “you give so much that you should consider taking a break” or “why are you acting like you have to be a servant to other people?” What I heard in that simple (and incredibly complex) sentence was, “God is working through you to create beauty, to heal, to lift up, to love. You are a blessing.”
2. It’s 2:18 am. I should be asleep. I’m exhausted, but rest doesn’t come easily to me. Words, on the other hand, bombard my mind, slamming into each other so fast I can’t keep up with them: authenticity, eccentricity, hypervigilance, insignificance, contaminating, invigorating. They go on and on, ping-ponging off each other, noisily fighting for space in my limited brain, demanding that my imagination form them into something of significance. I concentrate on breathing. I silently scream a well-remembered prayer, then I add a heartfelt petition for sleep.
3. A car was out of commission on the road. The driver stood outside his vehicle, hood up, traffic creeping by, horns being honked. Some people must think that blowing a horn at a vehicle broken down on the road will make that car magically move out of the way. Others seem to think that screaming, “you’re an idiot” or “move your car”, might help resolve the problem. Maybe there’s an assumption that the person, whose car isn’t moving, is deliberately trying to ruin everyone’s day. Maybe, we need a course in humanity (or anger management)?
4. There were no magazines to read, no Muzak, just the sound of the air conditioning unit humming as I sat in a medical office waiting room to pick someone up from a procedure. New faces would appear and then disappear. The space was too small to get up and walk around. Time was moving as slow as molasses being poured through holes in a salt shaker. I people watched, checked my email, tried to write. I started to yawn, then stopped myself—it seemed “wrong” to doze off while waiting for someone who was experiencing physical pain.
5. In one of my many dreams, I was paralyzed—scared of immobility, unwilling to hear about the millions of people who live full lives while being in a wheelchair. I was inconsolable and didn’t believe that I could create a life filled with joy. Analyzing the dream, I know what it was telling me: I sometimes feel paralyzed by fears like “what if I don’t accomplish enough, can’t be enough, don’t do enough?”, “What if I fade from this world without creating a footprint that leaves a mark?” I get stuck, so often, in the muck and mire of the human condition.
We all have stories.
We all have journeys.
Those stories and journeys are unique like us.
That’s how it’s supposed to be.
My Dear Readers,
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Thank you for your comments, questions and, especially, support.
I am blessed to walk with you,