Guest Post: Wednesday's Woman

Several weeks ago, Kimberly over at Sperk* approached me about writing an upcoming post for her weekly feature "Wednesday's Woman."  Flattered, I jumped at the chance to do some extra writing and then set out to choose my "victim."   

Follow me through this link to Sperk* to read about and show your appreciation for a real life role model: my good friend (and maybe yours), M. Kendall Ludwig. 

Kendall and Kristin

Coexist

"Are you saying I can not return these Islamic stamps, which you told me were Jewish stamps, when I am a Christian?"

"Miss, I do not care what you believe in."

"I do!"


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Today I am linking up with the weekend Trifecta writing challenge, Trifextra:

For the weekend prompt we're asking for exactly 33 words of dialogue.

My entry this week was inspired by a previous post.  You can read it here.


To read the other entries, click on the button below.  I highly recommend it.  Plus, each one is only 33 words...

Fortuitous Forty

Tapping the Stephanie Plum novel against my bare thigh, I paced around the library parking lot, my eyes intently scanning the blacktop. The plastic book cover occasionally held fast to my damp skin and crinkled upon release. I was sweating, both from the heat and because of what I had lost.

Was this ridiculous, yet hilarious, "beach read" worth my morning's wages?  Hardly, but it was beginning to look like I would be spending $40 in cash to borrow a library book.  For some equally ridiculous, yet not hilarious reason, I had chosen to slip the twice folded 20's under the rolled down waistband of my athletic shorts.  Apparently, I then leaped around the library property with such enthusiasm for reading that they had become dislodged somewhere.

Smelling like french fries and sticky with snow cone flavoring that, no doubt, speckled my t-shirt, I combed the library next.  After retracing my steps, I approached the help desk a bit wound up.  Forty dollars was a small fortune to me and I had essentially allowed it to fly away after all morning at the swim club.  I am certain many midday library eyes were on me, my voice wavering with emotion as I presented my plight.

Two library patrons, perhaps a middle aged daughter and her mother, sweetly and positively suggested I try the parking lot again.  Afterall, it was a breezy summer day, a rarity with the humidity we often have.  Perhaps the bills had blown into the bushes that ran along the road.  Weaving through a small group of children, I hustled back outside.

Just as I had given up, resigning myself to the fact that my foolishness would not pay off, I looked up to hear one of the ladies from the information desk call to me, "Sweetheart!  Over here!  We found your money next to our car.  It must have blown this way." 

I quickly jogged over sputtering something similar to, "What?  You did?!?  Oh my goodness, I can't believe it."

The younger woman handed me two twenty dollar bills neatly folded twice together just as I had described them and arranged them earlier myself.  I took the tiny treasure with both hands, my book and keys now under my arm. 

"Thank you SO much.  What a relief!  I just can't believe it.  This is so great.  Thanks again!  Take care!" 

Racing back to my car without waiting for their response, I placed the money in the cup holder and headed home.  Once there, I removed my wallet from the glove compartment and unfolded the precious 20's to finally set them secure.

I froze.  These were freshly minted bills, printed with the new design.  Jackson's now-extra-large chiseled face glared at me.

I knew my boss had handed me "old" 20's from the register; 20's that were well worn, and featured the president's bust like a cameo, small and neat within the oval.  Instantly humbled, I began to process that the cash had come from their own pockets.  They had played it off as a serendipitous discovery to save my pride.

I have told everyone I can about the kindness of these women. Nearly 15 years later I still feel overwhelmed.  Perhaps, to them, the money was just a drop in the bucket; a simple gesture to relieve the malaise of my immature missteps.  But to me it was much more.  It was a life lesson in love.  They taught me that just a bit of in-the-moment, conscious care can fill someone right up.

remember these?  I certainly did that day.  I lost two of 'em.

my fortuitous forty was in two of these babies.

   

I may be an idiot, but so is the lady at the post office

Thursdays mornings have become my favorite part of the week.  My simple, little world gets even closer and quieter at these times.  I take Z to preschool and have four delicious hours alone with G.  Unlike Tuesdays, we have no obligations or prior commitments and can spend Thursday mornings how we want.  Often, I run a few errands, but instead of whisking around and struggling to have one by the hand and one by the hip, we take our time.  I let G toddle down the sidewalks and up the steps.  She uses her still-pudgy hands to help me put items on the belt and in the cabinets back home.  We converse uninterrupted.  We discuss what we see out of the window, how the puzzle fits together and how crunchy the goldfish crackers sound. 

One Thursday morning, I drove G through a quaint downtown area and to the post office.  Many of the storefronts were decorated and holiday banners hung from the streetlights.  It was a warm day and we held hands into the building.  As usual, my beautiful girl caused a few to pause along the way.  People stopped to notice her blond hair and bright blue eyes.  The lady behind the counter did the same, even complimenting her winter coat.

"How can I help you today?"

"I would like to purchase three sheets of seasonal stamps please.  Whatever you have."

"We are fresh out of holiday stamps, ma'am."

"Oh, well, um, what stamps do you have?"

"We have these pretty crimson ones with gold trees.  They are Jewish winter greeting stamps."

As she said this, she laid the sheets of stamps on the counter.  They were lovely.  I had been hoping for Christmas stamps, but these looked wintery and I was happy to buy them.  Before long G and I were making our way back to the car.

After we were buckled and settled, I turned on the car and took out the stamps to read them, "Eid Greetings."  Curiosity set in.  I had never heard this phrase before and wanted to learn its meaning before I sent it off to all my family and friends.  My smart phone is so smart.  In seconds I learned that Eid Greetings is not Jewish (or seasonal) at all.  In fact it refers to the end of Ramadan, the month during which devout Muslims fast during daylight.  Eid al-Fitr is "The Feast of Breaking the Fast" an enjoyable time for Muslims families to celebrate the end of the long month of Shawwal.  I also learned that these stamps had been in circulation for 11 years.

I hesitated for a moment, but then decided to exchange the stamps for more generic ones.  There was no way I was going to let my dad or uncles call me out on this one.  Plus, I was still in the parking lot; no harm done.  With toddler on hip, I waltzed right back into the post office and up to the counter where the same lady greeted me.

"Hi, it's you again.  I recognize her coat."

(Smile) "Yep, I'm back.  I would like to exchange these stamps.  Turns out they are Islamic, end-of-Ramadan stamps."

(Stern face) "There are no returns or exchanges on postage stamps.  Read your receipt."

"Oh, I had no idea.  I guess that makes sense, but can you please make an exception?  I just bought these and they are not what I want.  You told me they were Jewish stamps."

"No."

"But, look how cute she is?" (cheek to cheek with G)

"Your baby has nothing to do with this.  There are no exchanges on stamps."

"So you're telling me you are going to stick me with 60 Islamic stamps, which I thought were Jewish stamps, when I am a Christian?"

"Jewish stamps or Islamic stamps, what is the difference?"

"Are you really asking me the difference between Judaism and Islam?  Really?!?  I was fine with the Jewish stamps.  I uphold the Judeo-Christian tradition!"

"Ma'am I don't care what you believe in."

"Well, I do!'

This was point at which she simply stopped talking to me and rudely asked to help the next person.  So, I just stood there.  I stood at the post office counter with my back to her, my daughter in my one arm, and the stamps under the other.  I am also positive I looked grumpy.  However, no more than a minute passed when another lady approached me from behind the counter, a lady I know for certain witnessed my entire exchange with the first, and who simply took the stamps from me, banged a few buttons and then handed me 60 flag stamps in exchange.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Part of me wants to apologize to the postal worker.  I was a bit short with her.  No doubt, especially at this time of year, she works hard on her feet and deals with more than her share of mail-related grief (and probably male-related grief, too.)  Part of me wants to apologize to my little girl.  I did not represent us well this day.  Not that she understood me exactly, but I'm sure she could tell mommy was being a bit naughty and not as nice as she should.  The rest of me wants to apologize to Mr. Goethals, my high school religion teacher.  I have not embraced life-long learning in the subject of world religion even though it interests me and is pertinent to promoting peace.  Perhaps my world has gotten a little too small these last few years.  I still have my textbook from his class and (as a result of this event) a self-designed reading assignment for over Christmas. 

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I am linking up with yeah write again this week.  I really enjoy hanging out over there and I think you would too.  Click the button below and read the other submissions along with me.

Joy to the world

Because we ALL need more gospel music in our lives:

Aretha Franklin sings Joy to the World

Neither of my girls nor I can keep from grooving when we hear this fantastic version of the Christmas classic.  We listen to it at least eight times in a row every day.  And it brings us true joy 100% of the time, every time.

We wish you JOY!!!

For keep's sake

The other night I hit the mall with my gorgeous and glowing 37-week-pregnant friend who is expecting her fourth girl.  We hit Chick-Fil-A for shakes, Nordstrom for sales and the Hallmark store for stocking stuffers.  It was there that we saw this:

My reaction: He's in a bikini!
My friend's reaction: I think he's poorly representing a bumble bee
Your reaction: ?