Two Pennies

 I've established a relationship with a local athletic club, whereby once a month, I swing by to pick up donations for the nonprofit I work for.

More often than not, it's water bottles, sweatshirts, towels and bathing suits. Sometimes we get some t-shirts, once we got a men's suit and tie. In the end, I launder what we get, I throw out what we can't use and I bring the bags when I go back to work. 

This time, the contents were the same. A couple of bathing suits, a pile of goggles, some sweatshirts, a few pairs of shoes, and a backpack.

I liked the backpack - I thought it would be good for our Pop Up Shops when we go to serve those with housing needs.

Except that backpack was full. Stuffed to the point of hard to close. I opened it up, found three cell phones, a stack of papers, at least six tubes of toothpaste and some dirty work out clothes. I thought nothing of chucking the clothing in the washer, but wondered about the papers. My goodness, with these cell phones, wasn't someone missing this pack?

The papers and flyers pointed to a man who works here in town as a realtor. They dated back to late 2019 and early 2020. I thought "well, it's been there for a while, so that's why they finally donated it."

There was a prescription bottle. And an update on some routine bloodwork.

Hmm, this wasn't right.

Ok - so maybe I'll send a message to the contact at the athletic club, but something said to skip that step as I was already 7 lines into the email and it was coming out all wrong. The athletic club didn't look, they didn't care, it was out of their hands.

So I thought about googling the guy. I had his name, occupation and address...and sure enough, 30 seconds later, I found him! 

How cool! Ok, so I wonder if I could arrange to get his pack back to him.

But something didn't sit right. The bloodwork sheet had circles on it of elevated this and that. And it was from a local oncologist. Oh goodness, he hasn't sold a house in 2020 or 2021 and the market is raging right now. This isn't right.

How about I google his name and city - and in a hot second, there it was.

His obituary.

It spoke of his love of his daughters, his success as a realtor, his passion to help the animals at the shelter. He had a nice smile (all that toothpaste!) and a furry friend in his lap. The photo said a lot. He looked like a nice guy.

He wasn't survived by a wife, nor was one mentioned, but it did talk about two daughters. Several grandchildren and a great-grandchild on the way.

The daughter. I could start there.

\And yea, 30 more seconds revealed she worked for a bank here in town. 

I wasn't completely confident it was her. Her name was spelled uniquely enough that it should be, but it was plain enough that I found more women with her name all across the country. However, there was just one here in town.

A quick call to Hubs confirmed what I needed to do - I needed to place a call.

A short moment on hold and the woman on the other end picked up in a cheerful voice with a hearty "good morning, how can I help you?"

I responded with my name and place of work, stating I had a very odd question to ask her. Was it possible she was the daughter of the individual's name I had in front of me.

A tentative "yes...." followed - and I had to laugh. Did she think I was some long lost unknown sister? Was I a psycho? Crazy crap the internet tells us that happens all the time - I swore I wondered if that's what she thought.

"Well," I responded, "it's odd for us to get a backpack and I took the liberty of going through it. I noticed the cell phones and personal items and with an aging father myself, I thought if someone had found something of my dad's after he had passed, I'd want it back. Would you like to have it?"

You could see the smile on her face from 20 paces. "Ohmygoodness, yes, I would."

We chatted for a few more minutes, I said I'd be happy to get it to our office on Monday and that I was glad I took a chance to call some stranger out of the blue. How odd and how quick social media can work.

I hung up and went back to place all of his items in the backpack. As I lifted up the first set of items, I saw a little shimmer at the bottom...two glistening pennies. 

I snagged them out, packed the bag and grabbed a notecard from our stash. I wrote to the daughter that I was delighted to have found her....that I've always heard that pennies are good luck, and at the bottom of the backpack there were two. Two pennies, two sisters. Right there in the bottom of her dad's bag. It was meant to be. And I wished her heart peace.

*******

The kids came home early - it was a half day. And if the backpack was going to be ready for this woman on Monday, I had to get it over there right away. 

They listened so attentively - they shared in my desire to get it ready for this woman - they wondered about what photos might be on the phone. 

We wondered, we smiled - and we wished them all luck.

Tomorrow will tell - did she text her sister? Are they overcome with joy? Or maybe sadness? Perhaps both.

There will be countless donations to come in and out of our door...but this one will stay with me for a while.

May your memory be eternal, sir. 

Well, That's a First

 From me....to the principal, Speech Path and Counselor...

Good Morning, All,

A note of follow up from Monday - first, thank you so much for your generous offer of time. It is a commodity so scare for educators these days. I appreciated our conversation.

Second, Hubs and I had our conferences last night. It was obvious from the start of each meeting that the teacher was well-aware of specific challenges that Bubs may or may not have had as school started, or as he might transition to group work or a different activity. Each teacher knew, was aware and gave specific feedback on our concern. That would not have been possible without the diligence of Mrs. C and Ms. H. Further, Bubs seems to be starting off on an excellent foot. May I share with you that Bubs has never started off on a good foot at school? It would take until Thanksgiving or even second semester for him to feel comfortable and acclimated to his surroundings. He has not once come home in tears, he has not dissolved into a mound of fear, he's come home happy, enjoying school, liking his new surroundings and actually thriving. He has friends. This is directly correlated to your efforts to help him succeed and create an environment where he can be seen for who he is as a student.

When our final conference finished last night, Hubs and I almost gasped. This was unlike any conference feedback we've heard. This is our 11th year of 1st semester conferences and it was the first time we smiled. We're grateful for the time you took at the beginning of the year to help us sort out the best path for Bubs to succeed - please know....it worked.

Again, thank you for your time, we look forward to a productive and engaging second semester.

Jane Says

 Jane, my dear, dear, friend, says that writing is good for me.

She also said "this isn't the book you thought you were going to read, but this is the book you're reading and the page you're on."

I'm not sure I like the book I've got right now - two steps forward....two steps back, progress is hard to measure. 

But this is the book I've got.

Ugh.

Writing is Cathartic

 They say that writing is cathartic.

Who is this "they" - and are they right? I think they just want to be published or famous. But perhaps, they are correct. Getting out the words that bubble down deep inside seems to help make sense of all the noise.

All that noise in my head leads to stress - on my breathing, on my blood pressure, on my sanity.

Too much noise in my brain doesn't allow me to focus on the things I really need to right now. Like my husband, my children, that silly dog and the house. There is value in focusing fully on those people - and with all the noise in my head, all the stress I push down to work on those things - eventually, I need to complete that stress cycle and just get the stuff out.

But the problem is, I'm not sure how I am feeling - or moreover, how to put it into words.

How do I understand that people thought it was ok to storm the Capitol and do the heinous, vile things they did. In the name of patriotism and a misguided sense that our country was anti-democratic and socialist-leaning. I'm just trying how to figure out how to keep my anxious child from overwhelming himself, keep my husband firing on all cylinders as he takes on yet another role, albeit temporarily, keep the dog from chewing up things and my daughter from not falling apart if she can't get something to go her way.

And keep them informed, aware, doing better than I did or my parents before me...but yet keep them from having to process why a woman got shot for climbing through a Capitol window when she was never supposed to be there in the first place.

Oh, and deal with the neighbors who are railing so hard and so loud at the world right now - right at their bus stop. Which makes them quite uncomfortable.

I want to write - and get it out - and sound mildly educated and working towards a better country, county, town, neighborhood, street and home...

But I'm just not quite sure what to say.

The End

 The end is here - at least for 2020.

So many memes today about how the world seems to be ready to kick this year to the curb:

*Don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split ya

*Peace out, get out

and on and on.

They are hilarious and right on trend. I'm ready for the year to be done. I'm tired, weary, constantly under this overarching presence of fear, concern, worry, etc. Some days are great, some are not - and that's true in any year. But in the middle of a global pandemic where the sides of science and news and politics and emotions collide faster than I can keep up? Yea, that's where I chime in and agree with the adieu of the year.

I did make every attempt - twice - to focus my energy and spirits on things I was grateful for. Even when Hank died of this nasty virus. Even when I gave up trips and vacations...hugs and hand holding...when it took me to lows I didn't like experiencing. I tried to be grateful.

Perspective is good - like I have a warm home, plenty of food (or toilet paper!), access to funds and resources and high speed internet. 

But I also vocalized this year that just because I have perspective doesn't mean I am not allowed to be sad or bummed or depressed. I can honor that - and then hopefully put my big girl pants back on and keep moving.

(Great song: Move (Keep Walkin') by Toby Mac...

I know your heart been broke again
I know your prayers ain't been answered yet
I know you're feeling like you got nothing left
Well, lift your head, it ain't over yet, ain't over yet, so

Keep walkin', soldier keep movin' on)

So I keep moving. 

My word for 2021 is Forward. Keep moving forward. A heart rooted in forgiveness does not dwell in the past. Easier said than done, but perspective, gratitude and forward motion might make for a good way to greet a new year.

Many things went awry this year. Many things got cancelled or postponed or forgotten.

But love didn't - neither did kindness or compassion - certainly empathy and gratitude - those didn't go astray.

So when I watched the In Memoriam and said good-bye - I made sure to watch the triumphs that we still collectively shared.

And when the ball will drop - with nary a soul around on the ground - I'll still shout out Happy New Year and greet a new start.

Some Memories

There are just some memories that you can't take a picture of. Moments in time where you can't grab your phone or camera fast enough. And maybe they stay with you, and maybe they don't.

My husband is a little glum this morning. He feels the weight of Covid and 2020 differently and he is quiet in his own way.

One of the gifts I could give him is to allow him to sleep in and take care of the house until he felt like waking up. When he emerged with a smile, I played with the dog. Which made him grin, because he knows the dog and I have a love-hate relationship. 

And then I dog-piled on children, and we giggled and laughed and then decided to take our chaos to daddy. There was so much laughing and giggling and squealing even from the males in the family that I had a chuckle to myself. 

I laughed at a comic that my BFF sent me this morning of a mother quite literally shouting at her children "we will have a lovely Christmas memory, I will make you do it or I will ground you!" I actually didn't need to threaten anyone. It was natural and organic and crazy and chaotic and it brought smiles. Sometimes those best Christmas memories are the ones that don't require packages and bows. 

My Birthday Girl

 I am so happy to say that I no longer have children in the single digits. My youngest is now in the DDC - the double digit club.

A whole day, mid-pandemic, of celebrating the sweet little miss that drifted into my life one day before her scheduled arrival - because I had pleaded with God to allow her to be born before the December Twenties. He heard my cry then - as he does now - and every moment in between.

She's fun and feisty. She's strongly opinionated, likes to correct me if I'm wrong - or even thinking about being wrong. She's quick. Like super quick to come up with a reason for something, even if it might be a smidge off base.

She's also extremely compassionate, has big feelings and big tears. She feels all the big stuff -and the stuff that I think shouldn't matter.

She's a helper. Her teachers love her. She wants to please, and be right, and be first and be in front. She's a born leader.

It'll bite her in the butt from time to time, but I'm glad she's got it.

She's an extrovert, a snuggler, loves her stuffies, her dog and her brother. 

And I get to be her mom.

Here's to your next decade, sweet girl - can't wait to watch you grow.