Three large servings of humble pie, and five stars for aunts and Elkhart General

“I want to run away to Alaska and never help anyone again,” I told my aunt a few nights ago as I gnawed on a whole grain baguette at Panera Bread. “What’s wrong with me?”

A national election was raging, but other than the fact that I was speaking as rashly as candidate Trump had, it was barely on my radar. 

My aunt was kind enough to refrain from answering with an honest list. 

I’m still not sure why I was so incredibly grouchy. I was trying to escape the city for just a few minutes by meeting her and my cousin for a quick meal, but even as I headed out the door my neighbor came ringing, ringing because they had no food. They (she and her boyfriend) still hadn’t done the work they had promised before, which they could’ve done anytime in the preceding weeks, but now that they needed something they were back. I really did need him to plant my tulip bulbs, and he agreed to do it in the dark and cold by the light of my LED lantern. I told him that would make up for the promise to work. 

I knew they wanted something additional. I knew it wasn’t fair because they should have done the work earlier. Now they were just doing one job yet asking it to count for the previous payment plus asking for something more. But they both did sound and look sick, and they both are thin, and I didn’t think it was right to completely ignore the request. It seemed especially wrong since I was about to drive to Panera for warm soup and bread. I stepped back into my house in uncertainty.

“God, what should I do?” I asked. I looked in my wallet. There I saw my precious $15 Martin’s gift certificate from the hospital, precious not so much because of its value but because it was a nice token from my employer in a time when we don’t get too many gifts. I had gone shopping at Martin’s a few days before intending to use it, but I had forgotten until after I paid. 

“Don’t worry, they don’t expire,” the cashier had said. 

So I slid it out of my billfold and gave it because God was telling me to give it, and I told them I was giving it to them because they were my friends, but I did not give it because I was filled with charity and generosity and love. 

I offered them a ride to Martin’s which they declined. Then I headed to Panera, trying to drive away from the stress of the last few days. 

My grandma was doing better by this time but her procedure had had a complication requiring a second surgery after her first one. This had been stressful on all of us. In addition it was difficult for me to stay in my role as a family member in the hospital where I normally work. Plus we were hoping she would go home after two days and because of her complications it began to look like it would be much longer. Was this my fault for encouraging her to do a procedure that I thought would be easy for her?

Then, as I had been trying to do my statistics class homework at the hospital, I began to fail my statistics practice quizzes. I cannot fail this class, I thought. What will happen if I can’t pass the test? I have to go back to work soon. 

On top of all of this was the gloom that my running program was beginning to run amok. I don’t know why but a few weeks ago all of a sudden I was so tired I felt like I couldn’t go on. Even short runs it seemed impossible. Would I just have to completely skip the run? How embarrassing!

Oh and I didn’t feel like helping anyone ever again. Which must be the most un-Christian position possible. 

The fact that there was a national election going on barely crossed my radar. 

I was almost to Panera when my neighbor called me. This was another neighbor whom I had previously planned to meet. Her boyfriend and his friend have a construction business and are going to redo a ceiling in my house. They do fine work and so I was excited about meeting them. But when my aunt called I decided I just had to get out of the city for a second, and so I text my neighbor to tell her I could be home a little later than I had said. Unfortunately her phone died, and so the next thing I knew she and the two men who had driven over especially to look at my ceiling, were standing in the cold on my porch and I was not at home.

I felt terrible. I almost turned around but it would’ve taken me 10 minutes to get home. Finally I told her the code to my front door, which was fine because I totally trust them. And the one who speaks English spoke to me on the phone and asked me if I wanted crown molding, texture, and paint. 

I stumbled into Panera, much as my neighbor had stumbled onto my porch a few minutes before.

I couldn’t help thinking of our pastor’s sermon about attitude the previous Sunday and how I was completely failing. 

“I’m buying tonight so just relax,” said my aunt, after I ranted for a few minutes. 

Aunts are great. I really don’t know how she puts up with me. 

The next day I went up to the hospital again.

“Your grandma is so cute,” the nurses told me. She was up walking and eating now. 

But even though it was a role confusion for me, I couldn’t help but notice how comfortable and confident I felt in the care of the nurses and doctors I typically work with. They’re really good at their job, and they care. And I realized that even if they hadn’t know that it was my grandma, my confidence in them would still be there because they always do a good job not just if they know their patient is someone’s family member.

There was the nurse who admitted her after surgery who ran for vomit bags when she felt sick. There was Dr. Weirick who I met rushing back after a long day of procedures and office to help with her bleeding episode. There was Dr. Halloran who after he left the hospital after a long day, came back, and sat at my grandma bedside to make sure she wasn’t bleeding badly again. (He said she sang a song as she was going under to get the breathing tube again.)  There was the physical therapist who evaluated her walking and the respiratory therapist who took the breathing tube out. There was the nurse who put her embroidered pillow on her bed so she could feel more at home. 

I went home to cook and take my statistics test. Then I got a text from another aunt, who knew I was a bit stressed both about my grandma and my class.

She told me that my grandma definitely wanted this procedure for herself as a way to combat her shortness of breath.

“I am really impressed with the staff and all the kindness and skill and talent we experienced,” she added. “God has an overall plan for the good of all of us.”

Aunts are great. 

The next day I went back to work. I had passed my statistics class, and my grandma had moved to the step down floor. 

“Your grandma never complains,” our physician’s assistant told me. “Not even when she had that hematoma. We need more people like that.”

“Her granddaughter needs to be more like that?” I asked with a smile. 

“No, our patients need to be more like that,” she said, probably since it wouldn’t have been polite to agree.

Oh I didn’t tell you about another piece of humble pie I ate this week. I had finally concluded that my begging neighbors had stolen the box of snacks my sister sent me, since the company had said they should arrive a week before.

They arrived this week.

With a Bible verse about the goodness of the Lord.

Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?

As I was almost finished with this blog, my doorbell rang. I went to the door and there was my neighbor wanting work. She said she was feeling better because a man from church had given her a box of protein shakes. 

“Can I pull some weeds so that we have money to buy coffee and stuff?” 

I looked around at the beautiful autumn day.

“No I don’t have anything today,” I said, “It’s too cold. But I can get you some coffee if you like.”

I put some in a Ziploc and handed it to her. 

“It’s not decaf is it?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

 “That stuff doesn’t do anything for me,” she said. 

“Me neither,” I said. 

And as to the running program, I remembered that even at the beginning I knew I might not be able to run the entire 18 miles. From the beginning I told myself that if I had to walk part of it that would be fine. So if I have to walk part of it that will be fine.

And then I heard the news that a dear friend’s father just received a troubling diagnosis, and I was reminded how insignificant my complaints were.

So I canceled my flight to Alaska.

Just kidding. But anyway I suppose there are frustrations in Alaska too.