Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘friends’

Sheep pull toy, found at Worthpoint.com

Sheep pull toy, found at Worthpoint.com

Pablo Neruda’s essay, “Childhood and Poetry” tells the story of a gift that he remembered for the whole of his life:

One time, investigating in the backyard of our house in Temuco the tiny objects and minuscule beings of my world, I came upon a hole in one of the boards of the fence. I looked through the hole and saw a landscape like that behind our house, uncared for, and wild. I moved back a few steps, because I sensed vaguely that something was about to happen. All of a sudden a hand appeared — a tiny hand of a boy about my own age. By the time I came close again, the hand was gone, and in its place there was a marvelous white sheep.

The sheep’s wool was faded. Its wheels had escaped. All of this only made it more authentic. I had never seen such a wonderful sheep. I looked back through the hole, but the boy had disappeared. I went into the house and brought out a treasure of my own: a pinecone, opened, full of odor and resin, which I adored. I set it down in the same spot and went off with the sheep.

I never saw either the hand or the boy again. And I have never seen a sheep like that either.

That exchange inspired Neruda to make a life of writing poetry, which is similar to leaving gifts for strangers. Authentic gifts, unique and from the heart.

I’m always looking for a hand to come through a fence and give me something amazing. Other times I’m watching the ground in hopes of finding an arrowhead or a bluebird feather. Watching the ground is not much fun, though, and the best surprise gift is a story that lights up the room, or a shared laugh that flattens the walls. Here are a few of the stories that lit up my world recently: 

  1. My friend J. attended a celebratory luncheon at a Mexican restaurant. The attendees, including 90ish-year-old Granny D, lined both sides of a long table, and at each place setting was an individual bowl of salsa. During the clatter and clang of conversation while waiting for the food to arrive, J. looked up to see Granny D. drinking salsa from her bowl with a straw.
  2. J., M., and I were driving to lunch on Friday, and J. said she wanted to get her nails done. “I need a pedicure,” I said, “because my feet are in bad shape.” M. snorted. “Do you both have all your toenails?” she asked. J. and I admitted that we did, in fact, have all our toenails. “Sexy ladies,” M. said. She said no more, other than to claim that only one of her toenails is currently missing.
  3. J. (whose story-cup has been running over this week) told of a time when she was going through security at the airport. I believe it was an emergency trip; she had packed in a big hurry, and threw her makeup case into the suitcase without checking it for bottles that held more than 3 ounces of liquid, etc. She was stopped by a TSA agent who discovered, within the makeup case, a pen made from a deer antler with a bullet for a tip. A bolt-action ink pen! The agent did not confiscate the pen, but he told her not to bring it back through the airport, ever. “Why was it in your makeup case?” I asked, but J. had no answer for that.

These bits and pieces–and the many others that enliven my world–often inspire me to write poetry, just as they might have inspired Neruda. Unfortunately, the best I can do is an occasional limerick. Here’s one now! I call it “Proverbs.”

A sheep toy with no wheels means it’s real hard to pull it.
Don’t board planes with a pen if the tip is a bullet.
And if you find you can’t draw

Your salsa through a straw,
Well, it wouldn’t affect your toenails, now would it?

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

2012-12-08_21-01-36_760

My neighbor, Sharon, sent around a notice in early November that she was having a show of her handmade clothes for American Girl dolls. I decided to go and check out the goods, since my niece owns an American Girl doll. Anna received the doll last Christmas, and I figured she might be due for some new things.

I have never seen so many adorable little outfits in one place: snowsuits and sundresses and one especially beautiful white dress with a scalloped hem that Sharon made from a tablecloth. But ultimately I chose a pair of red-and-white striped pajamas with a matching pillow and gave them to Anna when we went to North Carolina for Thanksgiving. 

Anna said, “Thanks! This would be great with the American Girl wheelchair that I want.”  (Yes, they sell wheelchairs for dolls now. Or you can purchase an ensemble—a wheelchair, crutches, and a bandage for only $41.99!)  That was the end of it, because Anna didn’t have the doll with her. 

I had pretty much forgotten about the whole thing until about two weeks later—maybe three—when my sister sent me an e-mail saying that Anna had taken a photo and asked her to forward it to me. The picture is featured above. 

I forwarded the e-mail to Sharon so she could see for herself how her work was appreciated.

And that’s when the magic happened.

The next day, I got an e-mail response from Sharon:  “I’ve left something on your front porch,” it read.  I stepped out the front door. There, wrapped in tissue paper inside a brown bag. I found a red fleece doll-sized bathrobe and a matching pair of slippers.

Gratitude is a powerful force.

In the last couple of weeks, as I prepared to leave my job and move on to a new challenge, I have had an avalanche of kindness descend upon me—lunches, cards, home-cooked food, accessories, books, hand-crafted and carefully chosen items for my home, even  a surprise party with cake and testimonials!  And all the time I felt like I’d been enchanted, rendered speechless.  “There aren’t words,” I thought.  “There is no way I can ever express how grateful I am.”  The best I could do at the party was compare it to a Quaker funeral—which I intended as high praise, but may not have come out exactly right.

My friends gave me so much, that they even filled my need for words. One of my parting gifts—a book by Anne Lamott called Help Thanks Wow: The Three Essential Prayers—gave me some words I can borrow, for now, until I can get Anna to make me a handmade sign that shines with charm as hers does.

Gratitude begins in our hearts and then dovetails into behavior. It almost always makes you willing to be of service, which is where the joy resides.  … When you are aware of all that has been given to you, in your lifetime and in the past few days, it is hard not to be humbled and pleased to give back.

Most humbling of all is to comprehend the lifesaving gift that your pit crew of people has been for you, and all the experiences you have shared, the journeys together, the collaborations… the solidarity you have shown one another. 

To my entire pit crew of people: Thank you.  I am humbled, pleased to give back, and eager to be of service.  There is so much joy mixed up in all of these feelings, that it’s hard to know precisely where it does reside.  I expect it’s humming along the invisible, electric lines that connect us to one another.

Merry Christmas!

Read Full Post »