Daffodil Day

One day a week I have the morning off to run errands, catch up on housework, schedule doctor and dentist appointments and generally take care of things. That day I go to work at noon then stay for the evening shift, leaving me a full glorious morning to myself.


Its a good system and I appreciate having time to breathe a bit. This morning, as Drew was getting ready, in between hustling him along, I planned my day. If I'm careful and organized, I might be able to squeeze in a number of errands I have been putting off due to the extra medical procedures and unusual activities I've participated in.

I mapped out the day according to locations of places I needed to visit. First, drop off some music at my sister's, drop off more music at the church, hit the bank, go home, load laundry and while it washes, clean the kitchen and living rooms. Flip the laundry into the dryer, get to the YMCA, then the hospital with paperwork and followup on the bone biopsy. Then make a dentist appointment to finish a root canal started last fall (yikes!), on the way home stop at the grocery store for a few items needed, go home, finish the laundry, make lunch for Kiel and I, and dash off to work.

Crazy but do-able. I was happily loading laundry when my downstairs neighbor peeked into the laundry room. Startled by my presence, she said, "Oh! I'm so used to being here alone I didn't realize anyone else was around." She and I have exchanged pleasantries before, but I don't know her very well. I glanced up from stuffing clothes in the washing machine, and my heart sank.

Clearly written on her face was a plea, an invitation, a desperate cry for someone to chat with, someone to hear her story. All I needed to do was ask the question. My mind actually began calculating the cost of asking the question that I knew would lead to deep topics. Maybe if I worked it right, I could get away with just an hour of talk time. Immediately, I berated myself for even thinking such mean and selfish thoughts.

Obviously, this was a divine appointment that needed to happen. Shut up, mind. God will make a way for you to get your list done. Get your priorities straight and ask the question. "How do you come to be home alone all day?"

I might as well have just tapped a nail right into her pain. The dam burst and she couldn't have stopped herself if she tried. Here was a woman who used to be a top flight executive for a major corporation pulling down a comfy six figure salary. Suddenly, she was unexpectedly blindsided by health issues, and two years later she is barely able to pay rent on a dumpy apartment.

Her whole self esteem has disappeared. She feels worthless. She begged her husband to leave and start over without the health issues dragging his life into the toilet too. The tears washed down her face and puddled on the floor as she sobbed in agony.

I listened, nodded in understanding, hugged repeatedly and let it come. Mentally, I ticked task after task off my list until there was almost nothing left. She finally took a deep breath, realized how much she had bared her soul to a complete stranger, apologized profusely, and backed away. I reassured her that it was OK. If you can't talk to your neighbor, then who can you talk to?

After she left, I flipped the laundry into the dryer and recalculated my list. I still had time to run to the hospital with the paperwork for there and check on the biopsy progress. While waiting in the director's office for the finance person, I noticed pots of cheery daffodils everywhere throughout the facility.

I looked at the poster displayed prominently behind the receptionists' desk. The flowers were being sold to support cancer research, a worthy cause if ever I have heard one. Then it came to me. It was perfect for my neighbor - bright and yellow and cheerful AND it helped others, the one thing she longed to be able to do again.

After I concluded my business (the biopsy story I will tell you another time), I found the place where they were selling the plants and selected a particularly heavily budded plant, carrying it carefully to the car. I tucked a little note of consolation in the green stalks and quietly set it in front of her door. Perhaps it will bring a smile and for a brief moment, lift her heavy burden.

Meanwhile, I shall have to plot how to continue to encourage her when opportunity arises. AFTER I get my list done!