I Believe
I believe in the kindness of strangers. I'll admit my belief had been waning amidst angry city drivers and news stories as of late, but recently during the depths of frantic motherhood, my faith in humanity was renewed because I was open to the possibility.
Sneaking in a yoga respite prior to the hectic after school schedule, I confidently walked home expecting to find my boys eating a snack at the kitchen counter after school, having arrived safely on their own. Mindfulness can be difficult, especially when my elementary school children are trusted with responsibility and my iPhone is in the shop. Hustling home, I found only my 5th grader devouring chips and managing his homework with the utmost pride. "Where's your brother?" I inquired. "He wasn't on the bus," my son explained, clearly enjoying some time alone in our typically chaotic house. Sheer panic ensued as it had been a full half-hour since school let out and needless to say, my mind was no longer Zen.
I love being 'unplugged', especially on the beach, but when my child is missing and I'm without an iPhone or home phone, I am caught off-guard seemingly helpless. Thinking quick, I grabbed my keys to head to school, first deciding to check my laptop email to see if my husband had received a call and emailed me. Sure enough, my husband wrote that my 2nd grader was waiting in the school office, having missed the bus for the first time. A full 40 minutes had transpired now since school let out, so I frantically jumped in the car and quickly drove to school in an Oregon deluge of rain.
Arriving without a parking spot nearby, I turned the corner in a panic and veering into a parking spot I heard a loud thud. I figured I bumped a garbage can as my car didn't jolt. Unfortunately, the damage was much worse and I burst into tears. I was shocked to find the bumper of the parked car behind me had sliced a perfect razor scratch the length of my minivan's passenger side. 'Idiot', I thought to myself, just what I needed! To think I was worried about my 14-year-old approaching driving age. How would I ever explain my stupidity?
Despite the buckets of rain, a couple approached me from across the street with smiles on their faces, worried I had popped a tire. Clearly interested in what had transpired, I pleaded with them to watch for the owner of the car while I rescued my child from the principal's office. I was a blubbering mess of unattractiveness as I jogged to the elementary school.
I don't recall the last time I was teary in the school office but relief to see my 7-year-old seemed like ample justification for my lunacy. Apologizing for my tardiness, my son, who was now crying out of sheer confusion for his mother's behavior accompanied me back to the scene of the accident.
The lovely couple, still smiling, took my information, as it was fruitless to leave my contact on the vehicle in a downpour. The wife offered me a cup of hot chamomile tea 'to go' and the husband insisted on repairing my vehicle, expecting nothing in return. Apparently he had worked in an auto detailing shop. They assured me the marks would rub off the other vehicle, which just looked dirty anyway. Was I in the Twilight Zone? Why would anyone want to help me, I inquired skeptically to myself, my CIA spy intuition always aware. Noticing the church on the coffee cup I was handed, I surmised their religion prior to 'Googling' it and finding their Southern Evangelical Baptist Church.
Accepting their offer of grace and trusting their good intentions, I arrived the following week with homemade cookies in hand to assure them I was actually a capable mother, clearly put together by now. Despite the couple's attempts to find the driver of the other car, it vanished without a trace. We figured my car had endured the brunt of damage anyway. Maybe things were going my way?
Sitting down to another cup of tea, Jennifer asked me if I was a 'Believer'. Here we go I thought, my antenna alert from having lived in the evangelical capital of Colorado Springs where Focus on the Family and New Life Church are located, I tried not to display any preconceived notions of our conversation. A Christian myself, I embraced the family's generosity and kindness, keeping it light on religion as best I could while their dog 'Reverand' sniffed me with a keen interest. Spotting and assessing, I can totally do this I speculated to myself, thanks to my CIA training. Learning about the missionary family who recently relocated to Portland, Jennifer explained that her husband Patrick, a minister, had a calling to start a church in the Pacific Northwest. After a few theistic questions, I stealthily assured Jennifer there was nothing to develop or recruit by way of mentioning our progressive church and ambiguously directing the conversation to lighter topics of children and the crazy Portland housing market. Meanwhile, Patrick buffed every mark out of my minivan over the course of the hour to perfection. Thanking them profusely for their generosity, yet feeling somewhat awkward I couldn't pay Patrick for his time, we departed with the promise of future playdates and my heart full of gratitude.
Acceptance of humankind in lacking is society today, I tell my children, encouraging them to spread love and tolerance. For this I am grateful to Patrick and Jennifer, and for the opportunity to trust their good intentions. What a blessing to have been open to the possibility while embracing an opportunity to receive grace and kindness from strangers. I believe in such humanity and have a renewed faith in society as a result of our encounter. I am hosting a playdate with one of their six children at my house this afternoon. It's the least I can do in my attempts to 'pay it forward' in my community.
Sneaking in a yoga respite prior to the hectic after school schedule, I confidently walked home expecting to find my boys eating a snack at the kitchen counter after school, having arrived safely on their own. Mindfulness can be difficult, especially when my elementary school children are trusted with responsibility and my iPhone is in the shop. Hustling home, I found only my 5th grader devouring chips and managing his homework with the utmost pride. "Where's your brother?" I inquired. "He wasn't on the bus," my son explained, clearly enjoying some time alone in our typically chaotic house. Sheer panic ensued as it had been a full half-hour since school let out and needless to say, my mind was no longer Zen.
I love being 'unplugged', especially on the beach, but when my child is missing and I'm without an iPhone or home phone, I am caught off-guard seemingly helpless. Thinking quick, I grabbed my keys to head to school, first deciding to check my laptop email to see if my husband had received a call and emailed me. Sure enough, my husband wrote that my 2nd grader was waiting in the school office, having missed the bus for the first time. A full 40 minutes had transpired now since school let out, so I frantically jumped in the car and quickly drove to school in an Oregon deluge of rain.
Arriving without a parking spot nearby, I turned the corner in a panic and veering into a parking spot I heard a loud thud. I figured I bumped a garbage can as my car didn't jolt. Unfortunately, the damage was much worse and I burst into tears. I was shocked to find the bumper of the parked car behind me had sliced a perfect razor scratch the length of my minivan's passenger side. 'Idiot', I thought to myself, just what I needed! To think I was worried about my 14-year-old approaching driving age. How would I ever explain my stupidity?
Despite the buckets of rain, a couple approached me from across the street with smiles on their faces, worried I had popped a tire. Clearly interested in what had transpired, I pleaded with them to watch for the owner of the car while I rescued my child from the principal's office. I was a blubbering mess of unattractiveness as I jogged to the elementary school.
I don't recall the last time I was teary in the school office but relief to see my 7-year-old seemed like ample justification for my lunacy. Apologizing for my tardiness, my son, who was now crying out of sheer confusion for his mother's behavior accompanied me back to the scene of the accident.
The lovely couple, still smiling, took my information, as it was fruitless to leave my contact on the vehicle in a downpour. The wife offered me a cup of hot chamomile tea 'to go' and the husband insisted on repairing my vehicle, expecting nothing in return. Apparently he had worked in an auto detailing shop. They assured me the marks would rub off the other vehicle, which just looked dirty anyway. Was I in the Twilight Zone? Why would anyone want to help me, I inquired skeptically to myself, my CIA spy intuition always aware. Noticing the church on the coffee cup I was handed, I surmised their religion prior to 'Googling' it and finding their Southern Evangelical Baptist Church.
Accepting their offer of grace and trusting their good intentions, I arrived the following week with homemade cookies in hand to assure them I was actually a capable mother, clearly put together by now. Despite the couple's attempts to find the driver of the other car, it vanished without a trace. We figured my car had endured the brunt of damage anyway. Maybe things were going my way?
Sitting down to another cup of tea, Jennifer asked me if I was a 'Believer'. Here we go I thought, my antenna alert from having lived in the evangelical capital of Colorado Springs where Focus on the Family and New Life Church are located, I tried not to display any preconceived notions of our conversation. A Christian myself, I embraced the family's generosity and kindness, keeping it light on religion as best I could while their dog 'Reverand' sniffed me with a keen interest. Spotting and assessing, I can totally do this I speculated to myself, thanks to my CIA training. Learning about the missionary family who recently relocated to Portland, Jennifer explained that her husband Patrick, a minister, had a calling to start a church in the Pacific Northwest. After a few theistic questions, I stealthily assured Jennifer there was nothing to develop or recruit by way of mentioning our progressive church and ambiguously directing the conversation to lighter topics of children and the crazy Portland housing market. Meanwhile, Patrick buffed every mark out of my minivan over the course of the hour to perfection. Thanking them profusely for their generosity, yet feeling somewhat awkward I couldn't pay Patrick for his time, we departed with the promise of future playdates and my heart full of gratitude.
Acceptance of humankind in lacking is society today, I tell my children, encouraging them to spread love and tolerance. For this I am grateful to Patrick and Jennifer, and for the opportunity to trust their good intentions. What a blessing to have been open to the possibility while embracing an opportunity to receive grace and kindness from strangers. I believe in such humanity and have a renewed faith in society as a result of our encounter. I am hosting a playdate with one of their six children at my house this afternoon. It's the least I can do in my attempts to 'pay it forward' in my community.
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