State of Grace

Years ago, we hired a part-time nanny/housekeeper. Delia, as we’ll call her, started out strong, but things went south pretty quickly. Long about week three, she asked for a small loan – her car needed a few repairs. We had a vested interest in her having reliable transportation so we wrote the check. Before the first payment was made on the loan, Delia had another request – an advance on her pay. She needed cash for a family emergency. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, we wrote another check.

And then Delia disappeared. Didn’t show up for work the next week. Or the next. No phone calls to explain. Not a word. We weren’t surprised. Just disappointed.

But we were surprised when she rang a few months later. Yes, she needed money. Just a little. She was sorry for skipping out on us like that. Things were looking up, she would repay every penny.

You know what happened. Strike three. Yet she continued to call occasionally - there was no more money exchanged after that, we’re generous, not stupid – but we were always amazed at her gumption. How dare she expect more! Not long after that, we moved out-of-state and that was the last we heard from Delia.

Yesterday, I was at the MRT, just got off the train, was walking through the station. And a passerby ran into me. Hard. She had a big clunky bracelet on and it hit me right on the edge of that little bone on the inside of my wrist and reverberated up through my shoulder. She shot an ugly glance over her shoulder as she hurried on her way.

I started to cry like a baby. I’m not talking getting misty-eyed, or shedding a few tears. I mean a full-fledged, all out bawl. I dug through my purse for a tissue and my phone – I had to call Charlie and tell him how mean she had been.

Then it hit me. I’m still grieving. And grief has left me very fragile. I thought it was behind me, heaven knows I’ve had lots of tears for my dad. But I was confident the really hard cries were a thing of the past. Now, just like Delia, here was that greedy fellow, Grief, knocking at the door, expecting even more from me. How dare he.

I talked with Charlie, wiped my eyes, and climbed aboard bus 174 to continue my journey. There was only one seat open. A school girl, absorbed in her iPod, was closer to it. Just my luck, I thought. Then she glanced at me, loaded down with packages, nodded her head, and walked on, leaving the seat for me. I plopped down, dropped my bags at my feet, and smiled. It is amazing how much a little kindness can accomplish. My entire mood shifted.

As I sat there reframing, a mom and her two children boarded a few stops down the road. The seats beside me had since opened up, and they sat down, the little boy fussing terribly. The mom apologized – he was just hot and tired, she said. I assured her there was no need for apologies – I understood. We struck up a conversation – they are an American family here for a short-term assignment this summer, learning their way around. She was talking about the challenge of grocery shopping with no car so when I told her about the home delivery service offered free by most of the big supermarkets, she was pretty happy. I gave her my name and number, asked her to give me a call if I could help in any way, and exited at my stop.

Grief will still surprise me now and then – he can ask all he wants, but it’s mine to give, not his to take. You see I’ve relocated – to the state of Grace. Much harder for him to reach me there.

And, as I set out on this new day, I choose kindness – someone out there always needs it.