Money Well Spent

Dang, I sighed dramatically under my breath as I stood outside the Hotel Pacific in the early morning darkness.  I had been standing outside on the tiled front steps in the cool morning air since 4:45 am.  The private driver who would be taking me to the airport for my flight to Alice Springs was scheduled to pick me up around 5.  In my rush to shower, dress, and pack, I had completely forgotten to grab my two bottles of water and packages of cookies that I had placed in the small refrigerator in my room the night before.  I didn’t even think about the water and snacks until I was already standing outside and a large, white van was coming up the long, curved driveway towards me.  I told myself it wasn’t a big deal, but I had been carefully watching my cash ever since I had arrived in Australia a week ago.  I still had ten days left on this adventure and I didn’t want to run out of money.  Although most places accepted credit cards, I needed to use cash to buy simple things like drinks and snacks.  I also needed tip money to offer to all of the various employees at different establishments to thank them for their wonderful service.

As far as cash was concerned, I had followed the advice of my travel agent.  When I had asked Ken how much money I should bring with me to Australia, he had suggested, “Just take about a hundred to a hundred and fifty dollars with you for drinks and tips, and then charge everything else.”  His reasoning was very valid.  According to Ken, people make the mistake of exchanging hundreds of dollars and don’t realize the high fees they have to pay.  If people don’t use all of the money in Australia, they have to pay another fee to change the cash back to American dollars.  Plus, Ken told me that a lot of people call the travel agency to complain that they still have Australian dollars when they return to America, and the travelers usually get upset when the agency can’t do anything to help them get the full value of their money.  “Besides,” Ken had continued, “cash can be lost or stolen, and it’s gone.  Your credit cards can be easily canceled and replaced.”

Ken’s financial recommendation had made perfectly good sense to me, so I decided to exchange just 160 American dollars for Australian cash at the Los Angeles airport before I caught my flight to Brisbane.  At the time, I had felt secure about following Ken’s advice but now going into the second week of my expedition, I wasn’t as confident.  I really felt that I had to watch every dollar (American and Australian) for the rest of my journey.  So leaving behind the bottles of water at 2 dollars each and packages of cookies for 3 dollars each seemed like a really big deal to me.

Everyone in Cairnes, Australia, had been so incredibly sweet and friendly that I was sure the hotel staff would let me back into my room if I told them that I had forgotten something.  But now, it was too late.  The driver had stopped the van directly in front of me and was climbing out from behind the wheel.  As the man walked over to me, I whispered a good morning and was surprised to receive only a rushed and hushed grunt in reply.  I decided not to say anything more as I settled into the back seat and fastened my seat belt.  The driver quickly stowed my luggage into the back compartment of the van, and effectively slammed the door before walking around to the driver’s seat and climbing in behind the wheel.  He silently started the engine and drove away from the hotel.

As the man maneuvered the van onto the highway, I quickly reached into my purse and pulled out a five-dollar bill.  I wanted to make sure I was ready to tip the driver as soon as we arrived at the airport.  I knew it was customary to tip my private drivers but I had made an embarrassingly bad mistake on my first day in Australia.  On August 26^th, I had arrived in Brisbane, which was my first stop in Australia before I traveled onto Cairnes, Alice Springs, and Sydney.  I felt like I was in a movie as I walked off the plane, and there was my driver holding up an ipad with my name flashing across the screen.  That driver had been incredibly polite and informative as he drove me around the city to the Hotel Meridian.  As we wove in and out of traffic, the man told me about his trips to America and pointed out all of the amazing Brisbane sites.  The drive was enjoyable and comfortable until we arrived at the hotel.  The driver had stopped the car, opened my door, and then pulled my suitcase out of the trunk.  Then he stood on the sidewalk with me for a few minutes as he pointed out the different shops and restaurants that were located close to the hotel.  It suddenly dawned on me that he was waiting for a tip, but I had one small problem.  I had received only 20-dollar bills when I exchanged money in LA and then had walked right off the plane and into the waiting car with my driver when I had arrived in Brisbane.  I had no available change on me to tip the driver and I didn’t think it was polite to ask for money back on a tip.  So, I just awkwardly stood on the sidewalk outside the Hotel Meridian and responded with “Wow,” and “That’s great” as my private driver kindly continued to act as my personal tour guide, too.  Finally, he must have realized that there was no tip forthcoming and yet he continued to behave kindly towards me.  He shook my hand and wished me a great trip while I profusely thanked him for his kindness…but I still felt terrible!  The man had been so nice to me, and I had stiffed him on a tip.  I swore then that I would never allow that situation to happen again.  I told myself that I would kindly give to the drivers and all of the people who were helping to make my Australian journey a once in a lifetime experience.

And now, here I was on my way to the airport for my early morning flight contemplating whether I should give my current driver any money.  I didn’t want to be inconsiderate and yet at the same time, the man was somewhat rude as he continued to drive in silence and blatantly ignored me.  Of course, I wasn’t upset about the initial service.  The man had only been hired by my travel agent to get me to the airport and that was exactly what he was doing.  I was grateful for his assistance, so he did deserve the tip in that regard.  However, I just wasn’t sure at this point how to approach the man.  He wasn’t friendly.  He really didn’t seem to want anything to do with me.  Would it be awkward for both of us if I tried to give him a tip?  I had kept the five-dollar bill gripped in my hand as I contemplated the issue on the drive to the airport.  I had finally made up my mind that when we arrived at our destination, I would say a polite thank you, but not push the issue any further.

I was just about to shove the money back into my overstuffed bag when the van suddenly came to an abrupt stop.  I leaned forward and gazed out the large, clean window.  After a tense journey, we had arrived at the domestic flight terminal of the Cairnes airport.  The driver exited the vehicle, walked around the side of the van, and swung open the door by my seat.  Then, as I unhooked my seat belt and climbed out, the driver walked around to the back of the van, and retrieved my luggage for me.  He walked towards me and placed the suitcase down by my feet.  I said, “Thank you” as the driver nodded his head but didn’t say a word.

And then, before I realized what was happening, and without thought, I raised my right arm and held out my hand.  And suddenly the man’s hand was brushing against mine as I pushed the five-dollar bill towards him.  I hadn’t planned to do this, but for some reason, in the moment, I felt a sudden need and urgency to give him the tip.

Then, the driver stared directly into my eyes as he held onto the cash and, by chance, my hand as well.  I suddenly felt as if, in the pale darkness, I could clearly see him.  He was an older man, probably in his mid-60s.  He was very tall and so thin that his crisp, white, button-down shirt and black slacks seemed too big for his slight build.  The driver had a skinny, white mustache that lined his upper lip.  Both of his hands suddenly wrapped around my fingers as I stared into his eyes and noticed the deep, sad lines that were etched into the rough skin of his face.  I noticed the thin, gray wisp of hair that rested across his forehead.  Then I suddenly saw into this man’s soul as he said to me in the softest of voices, “Oh, no, you don’t really need to do this.”

“No, please,” I answered, “it’s okay.  Please, take it.  I want you to have it.”

And suddenly, as the day was slowly beginning to brighten with the sunrise, I could see the tears coming into the man’s eyes as he whispered to me, “Are you sure?  Are you sure you want to give this to me?”

And of that moment, I was absolutely positive about the situation.  “Yes,” I honestly told him, “I really want you to have the money.”

“Thank you,” he whispered as he gave my hand a gentle squeeze and tears started to careen in crooked lines down his face, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” I answered.  “Thank you for the ride.”

He smiled at me then as he wished me a good flight.  He let go of my hand and I watched as he walked around the van and got back into the driver’s seat.  As he drove away from the curb, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked into the terminal with my mind and heart full of gratitude.  I was so thankful to be in Australia.  I was so happy to be going to see Ayer’s Rock.  I was so grateful to the driver who got me to the airport on time.  And I was so thankful that I had followed my heart and gave the man the five dollars.  I don’t really know what had prompted me to offer the tip to the driver.  I usually tended to shy away from people who are difficult or intimidating.  But there was something about this man that even in his quiet irritation was good and kind.

I thought of the way the man had held my hand with tears gleaming in his eyes as he accepted such a small, simple token of my gratitude.  It was five dollars…just five dollars…and yet it had made such a big difference to another person.  For some reason, that small gesture had completely changed the man’s attitude.  I guess it is true that no one ever knows the private battles other people are facing.  We never really know what another person is going through.  It’s sad sometimes that we just always respond to the current moment.  We get angry if we think someone has been rude to us.  We forget that sometimes people are rude because they have just lost a job or a loved one; maybe they haven’t had a chance to sleep, or eat, or they haven’t been feeling well.  Our minds sometimes don’t always stretch to think about what another person is going through.  If we all could just touch one person in some small way when the opportunity arises, especially when we have the chance to offer hope to someone who may be suffering in some way we don’t understand, what a great world this would be.

This man was a good soul and maybe he was just having a bad morning.  That doesn’t make him a bad person.  In my mind, I know, my silent driver deserved to be treated with respect regardless of his initial attitude.  Hopefully, my simple gesture of gratitude had helped turn his day around.  It amazing how we have the power to affect each other in a good and blessed way just by being kind.

After checking in at the counter and receiving my boarding pass, I walked over to the food court to buy breakfast and some coffee.  I no longer worried about spending money.  I felt so blessed as I thought about the man and the five dollars I had given him.  As I sipped my coffee, I smiled.  That tip was the best five dollars I had ever spent.

 

 

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The Perfect Holiday Gifts!

I really wasn’t trying to be difficult.  I wasn’t trying to be argumentative.  I wasn’t trying to cause stress or anxiety.  Instead, I was being completely honest.  Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I always gave the same truthful answer.

“Nothing,” I always said to all of my friends and family members whenever they asked about Christmas presents.  There honestly wasn’t anything I wanted.  I already had everything I needed to be happy.  I have good food, clean water, safe shelter.  I have books and music.  I have clothes, a job, a car.  I have my five senses—and, many times, a sixth.  According to a lot of people, I have an overabundance of emotions…and they are probably right!  I consistently laugh, cry, and love without boundaries.  I have family, even though I may get on everyone’s nerves sometimes.  I live with three dogs who love me, and a cat that is still on the fence but is slowly getting used to me.  I have friends who may not always be in my life but are always there for me when needed.  I have freedom for adventure and travel.

What more could I possibly want, especially on the holiest day of the year?

As I have gotten older, the traditions of Christmas have changed for me.  For the past several years, I haven’t decorated trees, or put up wreaths and holly, or accepted presents.  I usually like to spend Christmas alone in meditation.  Some people find this unusual but for me it is the best way to honor the Savior without the distraction and stress that usually comes with the holiday.  I enjoy simple pleasures.

For example, I woke up at around 2 am on Christmas morning.  I climbed out of bed and walked into the living room.  I had a strong desire to look out of the big picture window and stare at the dark night sky and gaze at the stars.  But instead of darkness and stars, I find a night white with quietly falling snow.  I sat snuggled up in a blanket on the living room couch as I leaned towards the window and watched the snowflakes magically dancing across the front lawn.  I prayed, meditated, and sang songs Christmas carols to myself.  My mind also kept swirling around the events of the day.  The afternoon of Christmas Eve, 2017, was spent going out to lunch with my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew.  The day was full of laughter as my brother and nephew tried to “out-funny” each other.  I tried to compete with them, too, but I couldn’t keep up with their quick wits and sly one-liners.  I’m usually laughing too hard at their comedic challenge to think of anything funny to say.  But that’s okay, because I have since become one of the best laughers around.  This afternoon was no different; the event ended again with my brother mockingly yelling to his son, “You’re grounded for being funnier than I am.”  And again, I found myself laughing joyfully before I finally got up from the couch and went back to bed to snuggle warmly and contentedly under the covers.

When I awoke again on Christmas morning, I carefully drove my car across the dusting of snow on the side streets to the local Quiktrip.  I parked in a narrow space at the far end of the small lot.  I grabbed my purse and climbed out of my vehicle.  As I walked toward s the entrance, I noticed a young woman holding the door open for several people who walked into the convenient store.  Her back was towards me so all I could see was her long, dark blond hair that flowed over the collar and down the back of her black and white checked winter coat.  I approached the woman and circled around in front of her to get to the door.  I reached out my hand to take the door from her, but she pulled back away from me before swinging her hand towards the entrance.

“No, please, go ahead,” the woman said to me as I now saw her sweet face and beautiful, big smile.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said to her.  But then I stopped and smiled at her as something my brother, Tony, always said to me.  Whenever I refused gifts or tried to be defiantly independent, Tony would tell me, “Don’t deny other people the right to be good to you.”  So, now, I smiled at this young woman and realized that she was giving me a gift.  Kindness, the willingness to do simple things for other people, is a dying art lately.  So, now, I looked at this woman and said, “That’s very sweet of you.  Thank you so much.”

As I walked through the door the woman held open for me, she happily shouted out, “Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you.  You, too,” I said back as I stepped into the warmth of the crowded store.  I couldn’t help laughing as I looked around at the other patrons.  Everyone was wrapped up in a heavy coat to ward off the winter chill.  And yet, underneath the coats, everyone was wearing cozy, colorful, flannel pajamas or tattered, comfortable sweats.  I have found my people, I thought with a laugh.  I, too, had just slipped on an old jacket over my sweats before leaving the house.  I love people best at their natural quirkiness.  I love people who are just as comfortable walking around in nightwear as they are in business suits.  And, of course, today was a day like no other as everyone politely dodged around each other as they whispered, “Excuse me,” “No, you first,” and “Merry Christmas.”  I listened to the joyful, happy voices as I paid for my coffee and walked back out to my car.

I spent the rest of Christmas day in quiet contemplation.  I was feeling blissful and at peace, just the way Christmas is supposed to be.

So, see, there wasn’t anything I needed for Christmas.  But I had received the best gifts of all: laughter, kindness, peace…and once again, I had received from God and the Savior the perfect Christmas holiday!

 

 

 

My Perfect Roses

Last Sunday, my thoughts were just as drab and boring as the world I had been walking through.  I felt trapped as I made my way down the main aisle of the backroom of my workplace.  I was surrounded on all sides by dull, concrete floors, light gray steel beams, and plain brown cardboard boxes.  But then just like in the Wizard of Oz when black and white scenes suddenly blossom into brilliant color, I noticed something crimson red shining just to my left side.  I turned around and gasped as I caught my breath.

“Oh, those are beautiful!”  I sighed as I came to a complete dreamlike stop.  I suddenly forgot why I had been in such a hurry as I focused on the long stem roses that were lying in a blue basket.  The black handle of the square basket was resting across Bernard’s left arm.

“Do you want a rose?” the assistant manager asked me.

“Really,” I smiled.  “I can have one?”

“Of course, you can,” he answered as he offered the basket out to me.  I thanked him profusely and grabbed the stem of a large blooming red rose.  I pulled the luscious flower from the basket and held it up to my face to breath in the delicious scent of the petals.  “Okay,” Bernard said after I had been completely intoxicated with the sweet aroma.  “You have to let me take your picture now.”

That’s when I noticed that Bernard was holding a digital camera in his opposite hand.  I’ve always been very uncomfortable in front of cameras.  So, now, I shook my head.  “No, thanks,” I told him.  “I’ll have to give you the rose back.”  I started to place the beautiful, perfect creation back into the basket.  Refusing the picture was actually a graceful way out for me because I had suddenly realized that the roses actually had a special purpose.  The flowers were for Mommas.  I had completely forgotten through the course of my busy workday that it was Mother’s Day.  I don’t have children of my own and my mother had passed on seven years ago.  So, of course, I don’t really have a reason or a right to celebrate Mother’s Day and, honestly, it is a holiday that makes me really sad.  I sighed wistfully as I placed the rose back into the basket.

“No, it’s okay,” Bernard told me.  “You can have a rose.  Go ahead and keep it…and I won’t force you to have your picture taken either.”

I just shook my head no and slowly began to back away.  I didn’t deserve the flower.  “Thank you, Bernard,” I told him.  “I do appreciate it but I’m not a mother.  I don’t have any children.  These roses should go to mothers today.

Bernard just laughed then and said, “It doesn’t matter.  You can have a rose, too, if it makes you happy.  Come on.  Take one.”  He held the basket out to me again.

I couldn’t stop smiling now as I grabbed hold of the stem of the flower I had just returned and pulled it back out of the basket.  “Thank you,” I told him.

“That’s fine,” Bernard answered.  “Just enjoy it.

And I did.  Holding the rose and running my fingers over the red, feather soft petals made my day a little brighter.  I was really missing my mother and the rose made me think of her.  I thought about the rose bush my mother had planted and carefully nurtured in the corner of our backyard when I was a child.  But then, thinking about my mother who had sacrificed so much for me, I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty.  I wondered if I had taken a rose away from a woman who was much more deserving than I could ever be.  Did I just steal a rose from one of the many gracious women who went through the pain of childbirth and suffered sleepless nights taking care of sick children?

Honestly, I would have loved to have been one of those women.  But certain life situations and health problems such as ovarian cysts and uterine tumors prevented me from feeling worthy of a rose.  But I also had to admit that the flower and Bernard’s kindness, the way he included me in this simple tribute, made me smile and brightened my day.

A week later, Sunday, May 20, 2017, I was back at work and having a rather bad day.  I kept repeating to myself New Age affirmations to help me make it through my work hours.  “A good or bad day is just my perception.”  “I can use my power of positive thinking to make this a better day.”  But nothing seemed to help.  I spent the day struggling with even the most minor tasks.  I just couldn’t seem to adjust to the stress of the day and my frustration was pushing me to the point of tears.

As I struggled to pull myself together that afternoon, I suddenly heard someone calling out to me.  I turned around to see  Charles standing behind me.  “Here, this is for you, Jamie,” he said as he held out his hand to me.  “Take this and hold onto it until your day becomes better.”  I stared down at the small, red rose resting in his palm, and my heart suddenly filled with hope and gratitude.  I was so touched by Charles’s sweet gesture.  “Thank you so much,” I answered.  “That’s so sweet of you.”   I reached out and took the rose from his hand.  As Charles walked away , I pinned the rose to my shirt and immediately began to feel much better.  What an amazing blessing that gift was!  And now, after all of the positive thinking I tried to force on myself, that simple rose made me feel so much better.

I thought now about both roses I had received over the last two Sundays and I realized something.  Though I regret not being a mother, though I am ashamed of myself for not handling my frustration better, people still cared about me.  I don’t have to be anything in particular or do anything special for people to think of me.  I had no reason to feel inadequate or ashamed or lacking in my life.  I don’t have to have a great job or a lot of money.  Instead, all I had to do was be kind and have a good heart and there will always be people to support and help me.

My coworker’s kindnesses reminded me of the love Jesus Christ holds for all of us.  He knows our regrets and our failings and yet He continues to love and support us anyway.  He continues to help us grow strong and beautiful and blossom into special spirits….just like my beautiful perfect roses.  I am so blessed!

Thank you so much, Bernard and Charles, for your kindness…and my roses!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tiny Dog Security Team–Episode 1–Independence Day

Usually, during rainstorms, our three dogs go crazy whenever it thunders.  They run through the house with their little paws slapping frantically against the hardwood floors.  They scratch impatiently at my door until I finally let them into the room.  Then, they scoot quickly under the bed and hide until the storm is over.

Because of the dogs’ response to thunder, I was concerned how they would react to the fireworks on the 4^th of July.   I imagined that the dogs would be running around in circles and barking hysterically once the fireworks began.  However, to my surprise the dogs were holding it together much better than I was.

Once the fireworks started, I jumped in surprise every time I heard the loud sizzles, cracks, pops, and rumbles that echoed around the neighborhood.  It has been 25 years since I have experienced a Kansas 4^th of July holiday. For the last 11 years, I had been living in the deserts of Southern California.  Personal use of fireworks is illegal there due to the dryness in the region.  Fireworks are a huge fire hazard in such an arid environment and can only be used in professional displays like at baseball games and theme parks.  While I lived in California, my Independence Day celebration was quiet and calm.  I wasn’t used to hearing the constant explosions happening all around me now and was growing more unnerved as the loud booms continued late into the night.  Every now and then, I ran to the front door to peek outside.  I wanted to see exactly how close the fireworks were to the house.  It sounded like the explosions were happening right outside the front door.  I worried for a moment if I needed to move my car to a safer location.  Was the house secure?  Of course, I was worrying needlessly but the deafening roars of the fireworks continued to unnerve me.  I apprehensively shut the front door.  The light from outside flickered about the dark room and made me feel anxious.  I walked back into my bedroom, shut the door, and took some long deep breaths.

And then….

Oh, goodness, I could hear the dogs thumping down the hallway to my room.  Then, of course, they were soon scratching at my door.  “Okay,” I sighed.  “The dogs are freaking out now.”  I got up from my seat at the desk and opened the door.  The dogs didn’t run into the room, though.  Instead, all three dogs stood in a straight line on the threshold and stared up at me with concern in their eyes.  Then, they came slowly into the room.  But instead of scooting under the bed, they circled around me and looked at me hopefully.  I walked back to my chair and sat down heavily.  To my surprise, the three small dogs surrounded me and stood at attention.  I suddenly realized then that the dogs weren’t looking for comfort; they had come into the room to protect me!  Had they sensed my anxiety?  Did they realize that I was uncomfortable?  Could these three small, incredible dogs actually read my emotions?  They had come into my room not to hide but to unselfishly take care of me.

Once I began to settle down, Cowboy and Friskie returned to the front room.  Only Starburst remained in the bedroom with me.  Starburst is a tiny, older, furry-all-over, white-and-brown female mutt who usually is very calm and low key.  Tonight, however, she stayed on alert.  Though she began to spread out and relax under my chair, whenever I jumped due to another loud crack of fireworks, Starburst would leap up on her four stubby little legs and walk around my chair; she marched around the room as if she was on patrol.  She growled and hissed at any noise that threatened my sense of well-being.  Slowly, she would settle back down beside me again.  She would relax until the next boom occurred just a few seconds later.  And then once again, “Officer Starburst” was back on patrol.  Starburst stayed with me for most of the evening.  She only left my side when I finally turned off my computer and got up from my chair.  After telling Starburst thank you for taking care of me, I closed my door after I thought she had gone back into the living room.

A few minutes later, I opened my bedroom door as I was getting ready for bed.  Oh, my gosh!  To my surprise, I found all three dogs standing sentinel in front of my doorway again.  I was so amazed that the dogs were still protecting me throughout the night.  Little Starburst seemed to be the commander of the Tiny Dog Security team.  She remained stretched out in front of the door as if she was blocking entry into my room.  She looked alert—poised and ready to attack any threat to me.

I suddenly laughed out loud as I got down on the floor.  I happily wrestled and played with the dogs for a few minutes before assuring them that I was fine now even though the fireworks continued.  Though Friskie and Cowboy wandered back off to their bed in the living room, Starburst remained with me throughout the night.  Starburst is Friskie’s mom and I guess when she thought I was scared, her mother instincts took over.  She was, for that night, my protector and defender.  Friskie and Cowboy also continued to check up on me throughout the night.

So with Starburst remaining outside my door, I settled down into bed.  And though the fireworks continued to rage outside, I fell into a peaceful, calm sleep, knowing that I was protected by pure kindness and unconditional love.

Angels on Earth

The most amazing thing happened to me today.  No, I didn’t get engaged or win the lottery.  Something much better than that took place.  I left work at 3 pm and started to drive to the gym.  I really wasn’t feeling too well.  I had a terrible, throbbing headache that made me feel a little dizzy.  I think I was just feeling tired and overwhelmed, but, whatever the case, the headache convinced me that I probably needed to take a break.  So, instead of going directly to the gym like I normally do after work every day, I  decided to go to the local McDonalds, get a cup of tea, put my feet up, read my book, and allow myself at least a half hour of relaxation.

Fifteen minutes later, my plan had gone into effect.  I had a cool cup of iced tea on the table, my book opened in front of me, and my body slouched down in a booth at the back of the restaurant.  Thankfully, no one else was around.  It was quiet and peaceful and I was able to concentrate on my reading.  I felt my whole body relax as I started to take deep breaths.  I was beginning to feel a little better, but my head continued to pound.

I had only been hunkered down in the booth for about fifteen minutes when a group of young girls suddenly walked into my tiny private oasis   The four girls appeared to be about thirteen-years-old.  They were dressed in colorful tank tops and cotton shorts.  Each of the girls had her red or blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.  Well-worn baseball caps were perched on the top of their heads.

Of course, being young kids, they were prone to running, yelling, and laughing hysterically over nothing at all.  The girls giggled innocently whenever boys’ names were mentioned and they shrieked with excitement as they pushed and tickled each other.  It was a little difficult to tune the girls out.  They were sitting in a large booth directly across the aisle from me.  Surprisingly, though, all of the noise didn’t bother me.  I guess I was so relaxed that the clamor didn’t really disturb me.

But instead of staying focused on my book, my mind drifted back to something that had happened a few months ago.  Again, I had been relaxing with my book at McDonald’s when two young boys came into the restaurant.  The boys were loud!  They screamed and yelled and cursed each other rudely.  I had to literally bite my tongue not to respond.  I was especially irritated when one of the boys kept purposely sliding across the floor making a loud screech sound that sent my nerves jangling.  I tried to overlook it but the “tennis-shoe screeching” was impossible to ignore.  I started to pack up my books and get ready to leave even though I had only been at the restaurant for twenty minutes.  But suddenly I came to a sliding stop before I had scooched all the way off the bench of the booth.  I was brought to stunned silence as one of the  boys began to sing.  His voice was deep and rich and absolutely beautiful as he sang the words to a gospel hymn.  I don’t know what had inspired the boy to start singing out loud, but I found myself smiling and taking long deep breaths.  Then I settled back into the booth, opened my book again and completely relaxed as the boy continued to sing.  Once he finished the song, he smiled brilliantly and the two boys left the restaurant.  They  left me in peace and feeling calmer and more inspired than I had been a few minutes before.

So now, I took a deep breath as the young girls laughed and played around me.  Suddenly, one of the girls got up from the table and walked towards me.  I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she approached my booth.  I started to panic for a moment as I began to wonder how much cash I had on me.  I thought at first she was going to ask me for money or that she and her friends were selling Girl Scout cookies and wanted me to buy a box.  I couldn’t think of any other reason why this young girl would suddenly be standing directly in front of me.  I remained sitting in the booth as the girl stared down at me.  I slowly pulled my eyes away from my book and looked up at her.  Then the girl smiled brightly at me and said, “Hi.  How are you feeling today?  Are you having a good afternoon?”

“Yes,” I said, shocked by her politeness.  “I’m having a really good afternoon.

“Good,” the girl answered, “I just wanted to check.”  And then she turned and walked away.

“Thank you,” I called after her.  I was completely touched by the girl’s kind gesture.  “That was so sweet of you.”

The girl just turned and smiled at me before joining her friends at the table where the girls again behaved exactly like thirteen-year-olds normally do.  I continued though to wonder at the girl’s behavior.  Why would a young girl out with her friends even bother with an “old” woman like me?  I had just been sitting there reading my book.  I couldn’t imagine what had ever inspired the girl to talk to me.  But it didn’t really matter.  My headache was gone!  And I couldn’t stop smiling as I turned my attention back to my book and sipped my iced tea.

Twenty minutes later, I decided I was ready to go to the gym.  I got up from my table and walked over to trashcan which was next to the young girls’ table.  “Have a good afternoon,” I said to them as I threw away my cup.  “Bye!  Bye!” the girls started screaming in their excited, high-pitched voices.  I turned around and walked across the restaurant to the door.  I stepped outside and thought about those young girls as I walked to my car.  I said a silent prayer that God would bless and keep the girls safe.  I thought about what the future held for those girls who probably didn’t know yet that they were experiencing some of the best moments of their lives right now.  They were young and silly and happy…and that’s what I hoped life continued to offer to them.

I got in my car, started it up, and backed out of my parking space.  I drove towards the exit but came to a sudden stop when I saw the young girls skipping across the parking lot.  I stopped to let them safely walk to the grassy area on the other side of the lot.  Suddenly, one of the girls looked at me and smiled.  She shouted “Bye” at me as she enthusiastically waved her hand towards me.  This movement got the attention of the other girls as they all now excitedly waved to me and called out good-byes.  I waved back as tears stung my eyes.  Such beautiful young girls…I prayed once more for their protection as they walked across the grass towards the houses on the other side of the street.

So, see, something wonderful happened to me today.  Four young girls were kind to this “old” woman and it made my head and my heart feel so much better.  This is another moment in my life that I will hold on to and bury like treasure deep inside my soul.  For even though I have had so many momentous occasions in my life, it is these random acts of kindness that create my most precious memories.  And the fact that this moment was created by thirteen-year-old girls gives me great hope that the world will continue to experience kindness in the midst of so much chaos.  There are angels still on this earth…I meet four giggly, happy,  silly  ones today!

Memorable Moments

When I started writing my blog last year, I had actually planned to write a travel journal.  I thought I would be writing about my expeditions around America, my travels overseas, and my day trip excursions.  However, over the past year, my blog had morphed into something entirely different.  I am writing instead about out-of-the-blue experiences that happened to me throughout my ordinary days.  Instead of writing about traveling, I am writing about everyday life lessons.  I am recording the sudden insights and moments of joy that occurred during the quiet moments of my life.  So instead of writing about my recent trip to Vegas, here again is a surprising moment that occurred in my life last week.

I had just finished instructing my morning class at 11:30 am on Thursday, May 28, 2015.  I was happy it was Thursday.  This week was the first week of a new term and it had been exhausting.  I decided that I needed to get off campus for a while and decompress before my next class began.

I just went across the street to a small restaurant.  It wasn’t until I had received my glass of unsweetened iced tea and immersed myself in the pages of the latest novel I was reading that I finally began to breathe and relax.  I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath until this moment.  Yes, the week had been very stressful and I’m afraid my appearance had put my exhaustion on display.  I was dressed in a pair of old black slacks, a red sleeveless shirt, and a pair of blue flip-flops.  I wore very light makeup and my large purple plastic framed glasses tilted sideways across the bridge of my nose.  I had been too exhausted all week to put contact lenses into my eyes.  I knew my hair had been tossed around by the wind when I left campus just a few minutes earlier but I didn’t stop to brush it again.  The sad thing was that I just felt too exhausted to care.  (Hey, I’m not writing a fashion blog for good reason!)

It felt good to relax especially since I would not be heading back home until 10:30 pm when my night classes were over.  I decided to take full advantage of this moment.  I was just going to sip my tea, read my book, and not worry about anything.

A few moments later, however, a movement at the front of the restaurant caught my attention and I glanced up over the top of my book.  I watched as a very small, adorable, elderly woman entered the restaurant.  The woman was dressed as eccentrically as I was.  She wore a pair of old jeans, a purple long-sleeved knit shirt, and a pink puffy vest even though the end of May temperature outside was approaching 100 degrees.  A little, beige, knit cap covered her short, dark, curly hair.

I know it’s not polite to stare but I watched as she shuffled slowly up to the front register and placed her lunch order.  Then the woman slowly turned around and ambled over to a table in the back right hand corner of the room.  I was a little concerned about the elderly woman.  She had a small hump at the top of her back that caused her head to hang a little lower than her shoulders.  Her neck was slightly bent in order to keep her eyes up.  Her legs seemed to be a little wobbly as she moved slowly between the tables to the booth.

I watched her for a moment as she settled into her seat.  When the clerks called out the number of her food order, I started to stand up, but relaxed back down in my seat when one of the workers left the counter and carried the tray of food over to the woman’s table.  The elderly woman, however, refused to be helpless.  As the clerk placed the tray on the table and walked away, the elderly woman stood up and shuffled over to the condiment counter.  I know that I shouldn’t have been staring, but the gentle rocking motions of her gait was like an intriguing dance, a shamble of endurance and grace.  As the woman picked up some napkins and hot sauce and started walking back to her table, I turned my attention back to my book.  I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable because I had been watching her.

I read just a few words before I was distracted.  A slight movement caught my attention.  I looked up to find the elderly woman now standing beside my table.  I smiled up at her…and then nearly fell out of my chair!

The woman looked at me and said, “You are so pretty!”

I stared at her with my mouth hanging open in surprise.  “Th-th-thank you,” I stuttered.  I was shocked.  I didn’t know what to say.  I took a breath and stated, “So are you,” for I was stunned by the woman’s incredibly deep blue eyes and smooth shiny skin.

The woman waved her hand at me before saying, “No, not me.  But you are really pretty.  Your skin is so smooth…”

Again, I could only stammer a “th-th-thank you” before the woman continued.  “I am 91-years-old,” she stated.  Ninety-one?!?  This woman with the bright blue eyes, treating herself out to lunch all alone, was 91-years-old?!  Before I could make any comment, the woman continued, “I am 91.  At my age, I have seen many beautiful things.  I know beauty…and you, my dear, are beautiful!”

And with that finally pronouncement, the woman turned away from me and ambled back to her table again.  Her head seemed to be held up a little higher and her gait suddenly seemed to be a lot lighter as she moved away from me with an amazing amount of dignity and elegance.

I tried to turn my attention back to my book after this encounter but I couldn’t concentrate.  I suddenly felt myself changed by this moment and I was too excited to sit still.  I got up from my table and refilled my tea cup.  Then, as I walked towards the exit, I detoured over to the woman’s table.  I thanked her again for her compliments and wished her a great day.

“Oh, you, too, my dear,” she answered as her right hand waved joyfully.

I left the restaurant and walked over to my car.  I sat for a few minutes and contemplated what had just happened and the connection I felt to this elderly woman.  I glanced around the parking lot for a moment wondering where the woman came from.  Did she drive herself to the restaurant at 91 years of age? How amazing! I knew then that God had once again sent another person into my life to bless me.

I know that this moment may not mean anything to anyone else.  I know it’s not adventurous or overly interesting.  However, I know that these out-of-the-blue moments, these sudden connections with kind strangers are the elements that gives meaning to my life.  I know that I will always remember the times I’ve driven cross-country or traveled overseas.  But will I always remember random acts of kindness?  I write about these events because random these are the moments I really hope to remember.  I know that random acts of kindness are the moments that make my life extraordinary!

Human Chain

Last Monday, during a two-hour break between my classes, I decided to drive over to Clark’s, the local health food store and grab some healthy snacks.  I really enjoy shopping through all of the bulk bins that are at the front of the store.  I grabbed several plastic bags and began to fill them up with sesame sticks, blueberry granola, and unsalted peanuts.  Once I had chosen my snacks, I walked over to the registers and got in line.  A few minutes later, the clerk was scanning my purchases while I searched in my wallet for my credit card.  Suddenly, I heard a voice loudly saying to me, “What are you going to do with all of these peanuts?”

I glanced over to see my bag of peanuts suddenly dangling in front of my face as I heard a deep rumble of laughter.  At first, I was a little aggravated.  I don’t like to have my grocery selections questioned or my food touched.  I don’t always like strangers shouting at me, mocking me, or teasing me.  I never know how to respond.  So, yes, I could feel myself becoming irritated.  I looked up from my wallet and suddenly found myself looking into the face of a young man with the most dazzling, happy smile I had ever seen.  The smile was so kind and endearing, I couldn’t be upset.  I stared at the man whose eyes behind his thick glasses were slightly crossed and the look of Down’s syndrome graced his face.  The young man was wearing a green Clark’s apron.  The nametag on the apron had the word “Volunteer” stamped on it.  How cool!

Suddenly, I heard the female clerk’s voice laugh as she said, “Well, she is going to eat them.  What did you think she was going to do with all those peanuts?”

I started to laugh now.  “Do you like peanuts?” I asked the volunteer.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “I like them.”

“I do, too,” I answered.   “I think they’re really good.”

“Yeah,” the volunteer answered, “that’s why you have a whole bag of them.”

“Yeah,” I laughed at his observation, “you’re right.  I guess that’s why.”

The clerk interrupted us then as she ran my credit card and asked if I wanted paper or plastic.  I told her I didn’t need a bag at all.  The clerk turned to the volunteer then and smiled, “She doesn’t want a bag, Mike.  Just hand her the items.”

But the volunteer still seemed fascinated with the bag of peanuts.  Suddenly, his face lit up.  “Hey,” he said then, “I know what you can do with all these peanuts!”

“What?”  I asked him as the clerk listened in on his suggestion.  “What should I do with all these peanuts?”

“You can make peanut butter!” he said triumphantly.

The clerk and I laughed then, “Yes,” I told him.  “That’s a great idea!  I just might do that!”

The volunteer handed me the plastic bags of peanuts and sesame sticks as I told him thank you and have a good day.  He smiled at me and wished me the same.  I walked out of the store and started walking over to my vehicle.

As I reached my car, I suddenly noticed a middle aged, blond woman in a silky short black dress and high black heels walking across the parking lot.  The woman was taking very small tentative steps as she pulled at her dress.  She continued to fret with the skirt of her dress, awkwardly pulling it down her legs to her knees as her fingers slipped and tangled in the loose flowing material.  I watched her for just a moment.  The woman walked a little sideways on the balls of her feet as if she was afraid she was going to fall.

As the woman approached me, I smiled and called out to her.  “You look really nice.”

The woman stopped and stared at me for a moment.  Then she smiled as she blinked several times as if to block tears.  “Oh, thank you so much,” she said.  “You look so nice, too.”

I smiled and blushed a little at her words.  I was wearing what I normally wear when I teach my classes.  I want to be comfortable so I wear a long skirt, simple shirt, and flat sandals.  And though I do think the woman was only trying to be nice to me, there was a hint of sincerity and kindness in her words that I don’t usually hear from a lot of people.

I smiled at the woman and said “Thank you.”  I was grateful for her kindness.  The woman stopped walking for a moment as I stood by my car door.  She hesitated as if she was going to say something more to me.  I waited, but she just stood awkwardly still, looking at me with a shy smile as her fingers tugged at the hem of her skirt.  We smiled at each other for a moment more before I said, “You have a great day!”

“Oh, thank you so much,” the woman said as she began to take awkward steps again.  “You, too.  You have a great day.”

I got into my car then and watched as the woman shuffled her way across the parking lot and then stepped inside of the sliding front doors of Clark’s.  As I watched the doors close behind her, I smiled as I thought of all the unusual, amazing people God had brought into my life that day.  I had the greatest feeling that the people I had encountered were in my life for a reason.  Just these brief encounters made me feel incredibly blessed.  I hoped that I had been an inspiration and blessing to other people as well, too.

I drove back to the campus feeling incredibly connected to the Oneness that bonds all souls.  I thanked God for allowing me, in some brief way, to be a link in His amazing human chain.  I don’t want to be the weak link in this chain!  I want to love and be kind to people.  It is always return to me. It comes back around.  For I love myself the most when I love other people.

Coffee Talk

Last Monday, I received a phone call from a close friend of mine.  “I really need to talk,” she had said.  “Can we get together this morning?”

I eagerly agreed.  I didn’t have anything planned and I thought it would be fun to spend the morning talking with a friend over a cup of coffee.  We agreed to meet at 10:00 pm at a local McDonald’s.

I got to the restaurant about half an hour early but that was okay.  I had my books with me and would just relax and read for a while until my friend arrived.  I was really surprised, though, when I walked into McDonald’s.  The place was packed.  Every table was taken and a line of people waiting to order stretched across the lobby.  Wow!  Why was the place so busy this morning?  As I looked around at all of the people, it suddenly dawned on me.  Coachella Fest!  All of these people were on their way home from the big music festival that had taken place last weekend in Indio, California.  Instead of being aggravated as I took my place in line, I found myself smiling.  I am a notorious people-watcher.  I loved seeing all of the young, excited, dusty, dirty, colorful, beautiful people that were gathered all around me.  It was difficult not to get caught up in their excitement and peaceful happy exhaustion.

It took me a few minutes before I was finally able to get my hot cup of coffee.  HHhhhmmm….now to find an empty table.  Just then, a table right up front by the counter became available and I ran over to claim it.  I sat down and glanced around.  I wasn’t really happy at this table.  It was too close to the front where people were walking back and forth to the counter.  In between reading pages of my book, I kept glancing around for other open tables.  Oh, another table just became available closer to the back of the restaurant.  I grabbed my coffee cup and books and raced over to now claim this table as my own.  I sat my books on the table and then sat down.  Okay, this was better but I was in the center of the room, which usually makes me a little uncomfortable.  Over the pages of my book, I kept my eyes focused on the booths around the sides of the room.

Just then a young woman walked by me.  She was about 20 years old with pretty, waist-length long, dark hair.  Black plastic glasses were perched on her small nose.  She was dressed in respectable khaki shorts and a black Coachella Fest T-shirt.  The woman was carrying a tray of food over to a table beside the large picture windows.

“Excuse me,” I heard her say to the elderly woman who was already sitting there.  The older woman had been quietly reading the newspaper and sipping from a coffee cup.  “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

The elderly woman glanced up from her paper for a moment and stared at the girl over her silver wire-framed glasses.  The girl then explained.  “All the other tables are taken.  I have nowhere to sit.  Do you mind if I share your table so I can eat?”

The elderly woman now smiled at her and started to stack up the scattered sections of the newspaper that had been strewn across the table.  “Oh, that’s fine,” she answered.  “Please, sit down.”

The young woman said a pleasant “Thank you” and took a seat as the elderly woman turned her attention back to her newspaper.  They were silent for a moment and then the older woman began to gather the pieces of the newspaper again.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the young woman responded.  “Am I in your way?”

“Oh, no, no,” the older woman answered.  “I was afraid I was in your way.”

“No, you weren’t,” the girl responded before she giggled.  Suddenly, the two strangers stared at each other and then started to talk like old friends.  I turned my attention back to my book but I could hear a few scattered comments about Coachella Fest and visiting Palm Springs.  I felt tears burn my eyes as I thought of the two women and wondered why both of them had been alone in a restaurant filled with groups of friends and family members.  Strange that they had found each other and seemed to make a peaceful connection.

After a few minutes, the elderly woman stood up from the table and said good-bye to her momentary companion.  The young girl smiled and said a shy good-bye as her “friend” walked across the restaurant and out the front door.

Both women had been so kind to each other, I felt particular touched that I had witnessed this interaction.  Suddenly, the young woman stood up and walked passed my table on her way to the soda fountain.  After refilling her cup, she started to walk back to her table…

And that’s when I made my mistake.

As the young woman passed by my table, I called out to her.  “Excuse me,” I said, “I know it’s none of my business, but I thought you were very sweet to that woman at your table.  You were very kind.”

The young woman started at me for a moment as if she didn’t quite understand my words.  Her face didn’t register any expression.  Then she just mumbled “thank you” and returned to her table.  Man, I’m an idiot!  Why did I say anything to her?  It was not my place to say anything, and, in fact, I think I may have embarrassed the young woman.   She didn’t expect any praise for her behavior.  In fact, she didn’t need my comments at all.  I should have kept them to myself.  Without comment, without praise, without pretension, without congratulations…that young woman is just who she is…and who she is beautiful…but she doesn’t need me to tell her.

A few minutes later, my friend arrived.  She walked over to me and we hugged each other warmly.  As she sat down, I felt blessed to share my table with someone.  I said a silent prayer of thank you to God for blessing me with so many people who came into my life that day for either just a brief moment or long enough to enjoy a hot cup of coffee with me.

Valentine’s Day

Due to family obligations and work situations, a good friend and I had not had the opportunity to connect for a few months.  Last Wednesday, I sent her a text message.  I asked if she would be free to have lunch together soon and catch up on our lives.  My friend, Olga, answered me by texting that she was free on Saturday.  I excitedly let her know that Saturday would work for me as well.

The next day, Thursday, however, I suddenly realized that Saturday was Valentine’s Day.  I had completely forgotten about the holiday and wondered if my friend would have plans with her family.  I sent her another text message to remind her about the holiday.  Would Saturday still work for her?  Olga quickly answered back.  Yes, Saturday was still good.  She had no other plans.  Is Saturday good for me?  Yes…unfortunately….I had no other plans for Valentine’s Day either.

So I woke up early and went to the gym.  After my workout, I showered and quickly got dressed for the lunch appointment.  On the way to my friend’s house, I impulsively decided to stop by Wal-mart to grab a few small Valentine’s for her children.  I picked up small heart-shaped boxes of chocolates and sticker books for both of Olga’s little daughters, Jolie and Valkyrie.  Before I got to the register, though, I thought about the fact that Olga usually had several of her nieces and nephews staying at her home.  Since this was a holiday, I would feel awful giving to Olga’s two daughters and leaving the other little kids out.  I quickly tried to add up in my head how many nieces and nephews Olga had.  I quickly grabbed several more candy boxes, sticker books, and boxes of Transformer trading cards.  I paid for the items and then ran out to my car.  I drove over to my friend’s house.

I parked in front of Olga’s house, grabbed the Wal-mart bag, and climbed out of the car.  I walked up to the front door.  Before I could knock, though, the door opened and Olga’s sister, Lucy, stepped outside.  We shared a quick hug before I walked inside the house.  Lucy’s little daughter, Jay, was waiting inside the door.  The child suddenly threw her arms around my legs and gave me a deep hug.  I was surprised that she remembered me.  It had been several months since she had seen me.  I pulled out a candy box and a sticker book and handed it to her.  “Happy Valentine’s Day!” I told her.  Jay shrieked with excitement, grabbed the items, and ran down the hallway to the back bedroom waving the book and candy box over her head.

“Say thank you,” Lucy was screaming out to the little girl.

At the end of the hallway, Jay stopped and turned around to look at me.  “Thank you,” she squealed before turning and running through the far right door.

“Go on,” Lucy told me.  “Everyone is in the back bedroom.”

I walked down the hallway and entered the same doorway Jay had disappeared through a few seconds before.  Jay stood by a small table showing three other small children the treasures she had just received.  The children looked away from their coloring books and stared at the heart-shaped box of candy that Jay held out to them.  I didn’t want the other children to think I forgot about them, so I quickly pulled out of the bag the other boxes of candy, books, and trading cards.  I was surprised how thrilled the little kids were with these simple treasures.  They excitedly hugged the heart shaped boxes to their chests and giggled delightedly!  And they wouldn’t stop climbing on me!  They held my hands and wrapped their small arms around me for hugs and kisses.

After a few minutes, Olga was ready to leave.  I handed the Wal-mart bag to Lucy and let her know that the rest of the candy and sticker books were for the other small nieces and nephews who were not present at the time.  Olga and I left the house then and went out to a local Chinese restaurant.  We spent the next three hours sitting together, talking, crying laughing, sharing.  The whole experience was a reconnection of our friendship.  A beautiful 10-year friendship that is as fresh and clean today as it was when we had first meet in 2004.  My friend and I have been through a lot together.  Relationships, marriages, breakups, pregnancies, children, moves, job changes, emergency room visits, spiritual awakenings, deaths.  Though a few months can go by before we see each other again, I have never doubted her friendship and kindness.  After 3 hours, we left the restaurant and headed back to her house.

I walked with Olga up to the front door of her home.  The door opened and Jay pulled into the living room.  I stood in the kitchen and played with the kids.  I laughed with Olga’s children, Jolie and Val.  I held hands and teased with her nephew, Junior.  I watched Lucy’s small baby, Javin, stumble across the living room while he laughed uproariously.  I watched Jay perform endless tumbling routines around the house.

Finally, I told Olga and Lucy I needed to head back home.  Jay responded by wrapping her arms around my legs as I tried to walk to the door.  “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered as she held tightly to my legs.  She turned her head back to look at her mother.  “I don’t want her to go.  Her has to stay.  I want her to stay.”

“No,” Lucy told her.  “Jamie has to leave now.”

“I go home with her,” Jay stated.

I laughed then.  “Oh, I don’t think you want to come home with me,” I told her as I bent down to give her a hug.  “You don’t want to come home with me.  I’ll make you do the dishes and clean the bathroom.  You’ll have to do the laundry.”

“I’ll do it!  I’ll do it!”  Jay screamed as she jumped up and down excitedly.

“Oh, she will do it,” her mother laughs.  “She tries to do half the housework around here.”  Oh, so I guess that threat wasn’t going to work with Jay.  It usually keeps me away from home.

I laughed then and watched as the children continued to run and dance through the house, all of them holding the small, heart-shaped candy boxes.  After a while, I told Olga I needed to head home.  Before I was able to make it to the door, I was buried underneath a flurry of little bodies all hugging and kissing and screaming for me.  I hugged each of the children good-bye before I was finally being able to step outside of the house.  I walk over to my car, climbed in, and headed for home.  As I drove along Ramon Road, I thought of the stories, secrets, and emotions my friend and I had shared at lunch.  I thought about dancing and playing with all of the beautiful children.  I was amazed that simple heart-shaped boxes of chocolate could create so much excitement.  I suddenly realized then that I had just had one of the best Valentine’s Days of my life.

You’ve Got Hate Mail

I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me.

A few weeks ago, I opened up my Twitter account and looked at the trending topics. One of the top three was the Miss America pageant that had just taken place the night before. I didn’t watch all of the pageant. Honestly, the production bored me so I flipped between channels for a while before finally deciding to watch the pageant’s talent portion and final crowning. The whole process seemed outdated and just plain sad.

But now, here I was on Twitter reading through some of the tweets that had already been posted. I “favorited” the comments that complained that the pageant did not represent minorities. I completely agreed. Maybe that’s why the pageant had seemed so tedious and obsolete to me. I decided to leave a post of my own.

I quickly wrote, “What year is this? Is America still really doing this? Pageant needs some serious updating! Lack of diversity is disturbing.”

I posted the tweet and didn’t think anything more about it. Though I was sincere in my words, it was just the Miss America pageant, after all. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen next.

About a half hour after my tweet, I received a direct message. “Are you Jewish?”

What?! I was completely confused by this message. “No. Why do you ask?” I answered.

I was shocked by the answer I received. “@JamieZunick Can’t understand why you hate White people and are White.”

What?! I took a closer look now at the profile picture. Oh, no! It was an emblem for a white supremacy group! I didn’t want to get any more involved in this. I ignored the message and refused to answer. Over that afternoon, three more messages, each getting progressively more aggressive, showed up on my Twitter account.

“@JamieZunick The Preamble to the US Constitution says: “for ourselves and OUR Posterity”. This means USA is for Whites People!”

“@JamieZunick Diversity is a code word for White geNOcide”

“@JamieZunick Anti-White piece of shit! The USA is for Whites The Preamble to the US Constitution says: “for ourselves and OUR Posterity”.

I ignored all of the messages. How could an innocent comment about a pageant inspire so much hate? I now understood the purpose of the “Are You Jewish” message. This person must have seen my picture on my account, and assumed, since I am white, my comment about diversity must be due to religion.

Though the messages made me angry, I again choose to ignore the situation. Again, I was probably just naïve. I didn’t predict what would happen next. Over the next few days, more direct messages appeared on my Twitter account.

“@JamieZunick must stick up for minorities no matter what the circumstances”

“@JamieZunick typical liberal white woman. Can’t think for herself.”

“@JamieZunick shut the fuck up”

“@JamieZunick man you’se a cracka! You ain’t BLAK !”

“Coloreds and Marxist Filth in Rabid Rage Over White Miss America… hey @JamieZunick hating UR White race is DISTURBING”

I began to realize what happened then. The original “conversation” had been retweeted among other extremist groups. The whole thing seemed ridiculously bizarre. I would open up my Twitter account to find the little “twitter bird” happily proclaiming, “You’ve been retweeted!” “You just got favorited!” “You have a direct message!” I would then open my page to find incredibly hateful messages.

It was a little upsetting but I knew that extreme people were always looking for extreme responses. Be calm, I told myself. Don’t add more fuel to this situation. I made no response. I didn’t even move to block or report the messages. I was not going to show any weakness…but maybe, I wasn’t showing any strength either.

The next day, in my classes at the college I shared the situation with my students. I thought this would be a great learning experience for all of us. As I described the situation, some of my students began to laugh. “Why are you laughing?” I asked them. “Why is this so funny?”

“People are weird” was the overall comment. “Just one simple comment you made created this whole mess?” they questioned.

One student responded with, “I can’t believe that you didn’t respond to them. I would have answered every one of those comments. I would have loved to argue and fight with them. But that’s just me. Believe me, I wouldn’t have walked away from this fight.”

One student told the class, “A few months ago, I had someone send me a series of hateful messages calling me all kinds of filthy names. It was really mean.”

I asked her who had sent the messages and why.

“You know that show Catfish?” the student replied. Well, they had one woman on there who was really cruel and hateful. She was ripping people off. I sent her a message asking her how she could be so mean to everyone. And she responded by calling me all kinds of horrible names.”

“Were you upset by her response?” I asked her.

“Oh, no,” my student answered as she smiled, “I was just excited to get a message from someone who had been on TV!”

The whole room was silent for a moment before dissolving into laughter. Ah, the power of the media!

Though the situation finally began to dissipate over the next few days, I still felt dirty, disgusted, and confused. Did I do the right thing by not responding? How could I argue against people so filled with hate? But by not engaging, did I make a mockery of my own beliefs? Did I deny the power of my own convictions? But if I did respond, what would it have proven? What would have been accomplished? I would have just gotten caught up in an endless web of hate. Would I be able to keep my own sense of fairness and compassion? Or would I have been just as detestable and cruel as those who harassed me?

That’s when a thought occurred to me. I don’t need to fight anyone to testify to my beliefs. If I want to prove my convictions, I must live my convictions. I need to continually treat all people with respect and kindness. Violence doesn’t stop with more violence. The only thing that stops violence is love. Instead of fighting, I hoped that this experience would help me love more, have more patience, and see each person as an individual worthy of respect and kindness.

So, to all of my “haters”, the ones who have told me to shut the fuck up and identified me as a Anti-white piece of shit….thank you. Thank you for showing me that I will always choose kindness and consideration. Thank you for showing me that my life is filled with goodness, respect, and compassion. God bless you.