Milkin' It For All It's Worth

It ended with spilt milk.

It was so fitting.

A reminder that I need not cry over trials of any day. The Lord does provide in all situations blessings, angels, opportunities, and occasions of joy are all over the place today, in the midst of challenges. Truly Jesus Christ is Victor and King of All.

My day began with good signs. I arrived at my bus stop a bit earlier than usual. (I park at a Park N Ride, and take a bus to and from work each day.) I was able to complete my morning rosary on the bus, which is my normal practice, but I don't always get to finish it. Since I get motion sickness, I don't read or hardly look at my phone while on the bus. The weather was beautiful and I slid into my chair at the front desk well before opening the doors at 8:00.

Then the work began to become, well, work. A few people downline on my work flow have been behind in their work, and no amount of nagging, sweet talking, or threats from me and my supervisor have amounted to change in the situation. For the most part, none of it is my fault and I can't control it. I just keep asking for their work and then completing my end as quickly as I can. I think God is using the situation to sharpen my patience skills, and showing me that I can't control others.

With the delinquent work and a co-worker who had to leave early, I felt the tension in my head and shoulders increase as the afternoon whittled away. The closer it came to closing time, the more anxious I became. I wanted to resolve things as much as I could before I left work.

Five o'clock came and things felt unfinished. Normally I leave right at quitting time. I learned from previous jobs that the habit of staying and working off the clock can be destructive. I don't like to do this in my current job, and they don't expect or want me to. But I don't like loose ends.

It was my choice, and one I made deliberately, to stay for fifteen minutes to cross my t's and dot my i's. By the time I got back to my desk it was 5:03. If I don't leave by 5:02, I miss the 5:08 bus. So if I left at 5:15, I figured I might make the 5:19 bus. That would be cutting it close, but then there was another bus, the last one, that came at 5:38.

Sure enough, I didn't get the 5:19. No worries. I could wait among the others at the bus stop and watch the baseball fans head to the game. I would decompress from the stress of the day and enjoy the spring weather.

5:38 came and went. Perhaps the bus just hit bad traffic. That happens quite a bit around here. At 5:45 I was thinking perhaps I had become distracted and it had sailed on by without my notice, when I saw it down the street, turning the corner and heading my way. Super! I boarded the bus, commenting to the bus driver, "I thought I had missed you."

The bus ride was enjoyable and smooth enough that I was able to catch up with a dear friend. Pathfinder and I had not chatted as much in a very long time. Both of us dreamed of a time when our common, far-flung, Facebook friends would all come together for a camping trip. We vowed to make it happen. This whole exchange pleased me greatly and seemed to wipe away the all of the vestiges of the work day. Truly Pathfinder and I were put into each other's lives by God for many reasons, and I have no doubt that one of them was to be joy for each other today, in that moment.

I relaxed into the rest of the trip, daydreaming behind closed eyes of tents, campfires, roasted marshmallows, starry nights, and the best people in the world. It was a shadow of the escape that he and I yearned for. One day.

Then the announcement came for the next stop. Wait a minute! That's not one of the stops on my route. Did they change the route without notifying me? When the bus driver pulled to the stop and all the other riders rose to exit, I asked where he was going next.

Into town from whence we just came. Oh pooh. Not good.

"I thought you were going to my stop. Well, I'll get off here." I was familiar with the area, as I had once worked there, so I could grab dinner at a local restaurant and call someone to help me get home.

What had happened? Evidently I had misread the bus route posted, and the 5:38 to my park n ride no longer runs. When did this change happen? I don't know. No one told me.

I suppose I was still riding the high of the daydreamed camping trip and my chat with Pathfinder. I wasn't too worried about how I was getting home. Nor was I upset at the bus company or myself. Life's great adventures happen this way.

Once I was off the bus, a woman, who had exited before me and must have heard me say I had been hoping for the other stop, asked, "Do you want a ride to your stop?"

To be frank, I'm not a stupid woman. I know that there are predators out there. I know that not everyone is good. I know that bad things happen to good people. In general it is not good to accept rides from strangers. I did not know this woman, had not seen her before.

I also know, believe with all my being, that we have to take risks, reasonable risks. In fact, it was just yesterday that I told a new friend who will probably be taking a job in my part of the world, that when we take reasonable, moral risks God blesses us. She's taking the risk to move to a new part of the US, and God is clearing the path for her with a job opportunity that surpasses what she was looking for. God loves to lavish us, but it only happens when we are open to it.

So when this woman asked me, "Do you want a ride to your stop?" I did think for a moment that it was foolhardy to get in a car with a stranger. (I grew up on the children's book "Never Talk With Stangers.") That moment passed. It was a reasonable risk. We were familiar riders on the busses. We both worked downtown. We were both female, and about the same age. She was taking the same risk in offering that I would be taking in accepting. If I listened to the advice of that book my whole adult life, I would be missing out on some of the grandest opportunities, adventures, and people.

"Are you sure? Are you going that way?"

"I can. It's not far at all, and I can go to the store after I drop you off."

So I accepted. Please and thank you.

I climbed into her SUV for many reasons. I needed a ride. I was happy to not have to bother a friend or family member to pick me up. Also I wanted to give her the chance to be an angel for me.

During our ride, Maria and I exchanged first names, where we worked, and both commented on how you can't do what we were doing just anywhere in the US. Not in Miami, where she is originally from. But you can here.

Our ride was short. It only takes about five minutes to go the few miles between that stop and mine. In the back of my mind, I tried to figure out what I could do for her as payment for the kind thing she had done. I could give her a few dollars, but I found that idea repulsive. She wasn't using up that much gas, and the act of trust and friendly offer meant more than a few dollars. I promised her that I would pay forward the act of kindness in some way. That idea seemed to please her, as she said, "I wish more people would do that-- pay it forward."

After many thank yous, I got in my car and went the short distance home. I prayed that God would bless Maria abundantly, not just spiritually either, for her great faith. I took my bags into the apartment building, retrieved my mail, and settled in at home. I got dinner started by warming up some leftovers. I was mulling over these events, asking God what more He wanted me to know from the day's events.

I concluded that the best gift I could have given Maria was certainly not money, and not even the idea that I would pay the kindness forward. The best gift was the opportunity for her to do something Christ-like, something Christian. I know from the times that I have been given the opportunity to be an angel for someone, to help them out in some manner in their hour of need, I have felt blessed by that. It brings me joy to think that the fruit of Maria's kindness is the same experience of joy I have had. I hope that Maria finds that thank you gift to be the best one I could give her. What greater joy is there than the knowledge that you have been Christ for another? There is no superior honor.

I also concluded that I had not missed my bus at all.

As I was musing over this marvel of how the Holy Spirit moves in my life, I went about setting my dinner on the table and arranging my laptop so I could write this blog. I opened my almost empty half-gallon of milk and smelled it. It was the only dinner drink I had besides water and wine. The expiration date was April 25. Four days past. Surely it must stink, Lord! It might be sour, but one can't always go by smell on that, so I poured a bit. A tentative taste indicated it was perfectly fine. I poured the rest and set the big mug on the table. Just a few more things to set up.

And wouldn't you know it? In my excitement to be writing about these revelations of the day, I knocked over the whole mug of milk. I stared at the floor as my already matted carpet soaked up the spill. Then I laughed with joy.

There was no reason to cry over the spilt milk.

There was wine. Happy Easter!

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.”― Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods