Spring is in the Air

Tags

blossoms, Blues, Buddy Guy, butterfly, Chevy, coffee, Garden, gardening, humour, Latin lover, Mailbox, morning, pretend, Spring, Swing, veranda

Many of you have been writing about the ‘signs’ of spring.

You’re raking the remnants of autumn’s leaves, planting seeds and drinking coffee outside.

Your photos capture daffodils, budding trees and cute kids in pink sweatshirts playing in the yard.

You are painting such a beautiful picture of spring – I can almost smell the blossoms!

(Insert sound of needle being scratched across a record)

Out my window I see a blanket of white and although our temperatures peak above freezing (slightly above) and mostly during the workweek, our weekends continue to bring snow.

However, instead of complaining I’m going to revert to something I did as a child when things weren’t going my way…

Pretend

~

The warm breeze pushes past my drapes and caresses my face.

My eyes flutter open and I breathe in the perfumed scent of blossoms.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I glide out of my four-poster bed

(well I am pretending, remember?)

and walk to my clean kitchen (p-r-e-t-e-n-d-i-n-g)

where the coffee has brewed (gotta love those timer thingies)

I pour myself a cup and head out the French Doors of my modern kitchen to the veranda (that wraps completely around my house) and sit myself down on the porch swing.

I take in the glorious view while the birds sing sweetly by the quaint wooden bridge and the old oak tree by the stream. (again, I am pretending so why not?)

The mailman nods as he delivers my mail into my mailbox.

(you know the old-fashioned kind that kids knock over with baseball bats when they drive by? Yeah that kind)

He’s probably delivered a notification of a trip I’ve won.

I look toward a plot of ground recently tilled and contemplate a day of gardening.

Yes…

this is the life

I can already smell the life-sustaining soil and am relishing the thought of digging my hands into it.

I hear the rumble of an old  truck and frown.

“What the…?

Who is messing with my perfect morning?”

Annoyed, I walk around my veranda (the one that wraps around the house) and my frown turns into a smile.

It’s Juan.

My Latin lover.

And I think to myself

…the fecking gardening can wait. 😉

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

Here’s a little something to keep you warm until spring is in full swing…

The Mailbox

Tags

alone, caring, Christmas, daughters, Diana Schwenk, family, generosity, kindness, love, Mailbox

I know, I know – Christmas is three months away but this story isn’t really about Christmas. It’s about an act of kindness that I will never forget as long as I live.

Let me take you back to Christmas Eve 1993.  I was the single parent of a beautiful one-month-old daughter who just happened to be colicky and not sleeping well at night. Obviously I hadn’t been sleeping well either.

It was almost midnight and my sweet baby would cry every time I tried to lay her down.

When I tried to lay her down for the umpteenth time that night, she began crying again. I was tired and needed a break.

So I walked out of her room, grabbed my journal and pen and slipped out my apartment door.

I sat on the stairs in the hallway and opened my journal. I began to write while my baby cried.

I asked God – no – I begged him to let my baby and me sleep. My tears fell on the page and smudged my words.

What was I going to do? I was struggling financially and was worried about how I would pay the rent and buy supplies.

I felt like a failure. I felt incompetent and foolish. But worse yet, I was too proud to ask for help. Our situation was hopeless.

I had this little person to take care of and I wasn’t doing a very good job. What kind of mother was I?

I couldn’t remember a time when I felt more desperate and afraid.

About twenty minutes had passed and my little girl was still crying ,so I dried my eyes and slipped back into our apartment.

I picked up my baby and rocked her.

“Please little one, sleep,” I pleaded.

Eventually she fell asleep and I plopped down beside her in my bed and fell asleep.

~

When I woke up it was 8:00 am – we had slept almost eight hours!

I tip-toed out of my room, leaving my girl asleep on the bed and poured myself a coffee.

“Check your mailbox,” said this voice in my head.

Maybe I should I thought, perhaps my parents sent a card with money in it. (They often did this when I needed money the most – it really was quite remarkable – as if they knew).

But no, I reasoned with myself; it’s Christmas Day, there won’t be any mail.

But the nagging voice wouldn’t stop so I grabbed my key and went out into the hallway, down the stairs, to the mailbox.

My mailbox is a typical apartment mailbox.

There are only two people who can unlock it – me and the Mailman.

I took a deep breath and opened the mailbox.

Inside, I saw a white bulging envelope.

At first I just stared at it, not believing it was actually there.

I reached in and took it out.

Written on the outside of the envelope was: Merry Christmas Diana and Michaela.

Nothing else, no address, no stamp.

I locked the mailbox and ran up the stairs back to my apartment. Once inside, I sat down and opened it.

There was a Christmas card inside and about $400.

Tears streamed down my face as I began to read the card. It said something like:

Dear Diana, I know you’re scared. I know that you feel like you’re alone. But believe me when I tell you – you are not alone. And I want you to know that everything is going to be okay.

Merry Christmas to you and Michaela

I love you, Jesus

Friends, I don’t know who sent this card.

I don’t know how, or if they bribed the mailman.

But their kindness and the love that motivated them to reach out to me was nothing less than a miracle.

Do you have a story about how someone touched your life with kindness?

Or a story where you made a world of difference for someone else?