Tuesday morning I needed to get to work 45 minutes early because I was donating my blood for a research study. So of course I couldn't sleep the night before because I was so worried I was going to oversleep or miss the early bus. Well, if you've ridden the bus before , you know that toward the end of the loading, people stay back because they don't want to have to sit so closely to someone. But I couldn't care less, so I make a dash for it and hop on to catch the last seat. Tuesday morning didn't go so well. The line of people stopped loading on the bus, so I went up to squeeze on and boy did I piss some people off. Two older men were about ready to jump me, but they looked as if they wanted to wait for the next bus. Thankfully a woman said "you really want to get on that bus don't you?" I said yes, I'm running behind I need to be up there for a study. She so kindly said "Go on sweetheart, I don't mind." and once the grumpy old men settled in their comfy seats, they were much nicer.
When I was walking up to catch the bus home on Tuesday, there was a woman waiting for the bus at my stop, who was shooting daggers with her eyes from a mile away. As I approached the stop she starts blatantly looking me up and down and rolling her eyes at me. She quickly moved into a different position so she could face me and starts asking me why I walked up the street to get the bus. I said it was because this was my bus stop. She went off on me saying "us people," from my work are out to get her and have her phones tapped. She scolded me for about ten minutes telling me how she knows what I'm up to and it's no good. When the bus arrived, I quickly hopped on while trying not to laugh hysterically because the woman refused to get on the same bus as me.
Can you say paranoid?!
Wednesday's bus rides went well, but oddly enough I sat across from two people, on two different busses with dreads that we're laying on the bus floor they were so long. Short dreads don't bother me, even Bob Marley's dreads won't bother me now after seeing floor length dreads. Not that they aren't dirty enough, but letting your hair sit on the floor of the bus?
That's sick....
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
Medved Mania
When I was driving home from the bus stop today heading to job #2, I realized I needed to get gas. I drove past the gas station with a sick stomach. $4.10 for ONE gallon of gas? Are you kidding me? I am not sure why I didn't get gas, because I knew I was going to have to get it at some point today.... but I guess I just wasn't ready to face it. My work pays for a large portion of my bus pass every month. I only pay $14 a month, while $14 will only buy me 3.5 GALLONS of gas... that's about a quarter tank for you trying to do the math. I have never been so thankful to be a bus rider!
On to a completely different topic... I posted on facebook today that my family was selected to be the 2012 First Family of Sports Award sponsored by the Tacoma Athletic Commission! This is such an incredible honor. My dad is #8 of 12 kids... 9 boys and 3 girls to be exact. My grandparents and each of the children are being honored at a banquet in June, which I am already so excited for!
I looked up on the Tacoma Athletic Commission's website today what they said about the award and this is what I found:
The First Family of Sports Award recognizes the contributions of parents, foster parents, or guardians who instill and help maintain athletes' successes.
From the "Hi Mom" TV wave at a sports event to more formal acknowledgement of family interest in and encouragement of sports from generation to generation, athletic achievement, whether in team or individual sports, is fostered by and also can nurture family life.
Playing a sport was sort of mandatory in my family growing up, which was no problem for my brother and I.... but my sister HATES working out. So this didn't thrill her at all. Like my grandparents, my parents knew that playing sports was about much more than playing the sport. It was about learning the rules, FOLLOWING the rules, working as a team, keeping good enough grades to PLAY a sport, and of course, how to win! And if there was a rare occasion of a loss, to learn not to be a sore loser. :)
Proud doesn't even begin to explain the feeling and emotion my grandparents would feel. I wish so badly that they were here to receive the award, along with my uncles Tom and Pat, who were also great athletes who have passed away. But don't worry, there won't be a shortage of Medveds at the event... Shortage and Medved are two words that don't come together very often. I have 11 uncles and aunts and around 30 first cousins.... JUST on my dad's side.
My dad's oldest brother, Ron, played college and professional football, and his son played professional soccer. He played on the Sounders before they were cool. My dad's youngest brothers, who are twins, both played college football, while my aunt Karen played college soccer. All of the rest of the siblings and most of the grandchildren played sports as well.
And you wondered where my competitiveness came from?
On to a completely different topic... I posted on facebook today that my family was selected to be the 2012 First Family of Sports Award sponsored by the Tacoma Athletic Commission! This is such an incredible honor. My dad is #8 of 12 kids... 9 boys and 3 girls to be exact. My grandparents and each of the children are being honored at a banquet in June, which I am already so excited for!
I looked up on the Tacoma Athletic Commission's website today what they said about the award and this is what I found:
The First Family of Sports Award recognizes the contributions of parents, foster parents, or guardians who instill and help maintain athletes' successes.
From the "Hi Mom" TV wave at a sports event to more formal acknowledgement of family interest in and encouragement of sports from generation to generation, athletic achievement, whether in team or individual sports, is fostered by and also can nurture family life.
Playing a sport was sort of mandatory in my family growing up, which was no problem for my brother and I.... but my sister HATES working out. So this didn't thrill her at all. Like my grandparents, my parents knew that playing sports was about much more than playing the sport. It was about learning the rules, FOLLOWING the rules, working as a team, keeping good enough grades to PLAY a sport, and of course, how to win! And if there was a rare occasion of a loss, to learn not to be a sore loser. :)
Proud doesn't even begin to explain the feeling and emotion my grandparents would feel. I wish so badly that they were here to receive the award, along with my uncles Tom and Pat, who were also great athletes who have passed away. But don't worry, there won't be a shortage of Medveds at the event... Shortage and Medved are two words that don't come together very often. I have 11 uncles and aunts and around 30 first cousins.... JUST on my dad's side.
My dad's oldest brother, Ron, played college and professional football, and his son played professional soccer. He played on the Sounders before they were cool. My dad's youngest brothers, who are twins, both played college football, while my aunt Karen played college soccer. All of the rest of the siblings and most of the grandchildren played sports as well.
And you wondered where my competitiveness came from?
Monday, March 19, 2012
The no shame game
There is nothing funnier than seeing people running in their work clothes trying to catch the bus. I realize how mean this is, but I think I feel okay saying it because unfortunately I have become one of those people. You learn quickly to have no shame. I mean would you rather be 20 minutes late for work or run like a champ and make it on the bus. A fellow commuter once told me if you miss the streetcar, whatever you do, don't try to run to the next stop to try and make it. And i learned the hard way because as slow as it looks like its moving, you are not fast enough. Maybe if I had on running shoes and not a massive purse I could make it. Thankfully the streetcar runs every 15 minutes (most of the time), but missing it by literally one second can make you 20 minutes late for work. So, when I see the streetcar stopped at the spot, I will sometimes literally sprint across the street to get on it. Today, I did that and almost got hit by a car, but I wasn't going to miss that damn streetcar..... Well, I missed the damn streetcar. And I could see everyone's faces on the trolley looking at me with pity, because they have likely been in that position many times before. But thankfully that was the EARLY trolley, so I walked down a few blocks to get a coffee & enjoy the beautiful morning.
There have been many times it hasn't been a beautiful morning and I have missed the last trolley to be on time for work. Those mornings I HATE. Not just for the rain, but for being late, but for being too stubborn to stay for the next trolley that will arrive 20 minute later. Out of frustration I tend to walk and take shortcuts because I can't stand standing there waiting for 15 minutes when I could be walking toward work in hopes of beating the next trolley.
If you live or work in Seattle you know about the construction going on on Mercer Street. Roads blocked off, lights hanging down, and no sidewalks. And this makes it that much more difficult when you're trying to walk to work in the pooring down rain because you missed the trolley. One day I was running late leaving my house because I couldn't figure out what shoes to wear. I had just picked up my newly altered pants from Nordstrom (which are tailored for me to wear with flats). Part of the dress code requires my feet to be covered and I didn't have time to dig for the appropriate socks or pantyhose(yuck), so I threw on a pair of clogs. Fast forward an hour and a half to me running across Mercer street.... On the wrong side of the street where the cars are getting on and off I-5, with a backpack on, high waters due to clog wearing, and bright purple socks. The people in their cars who were gracious enough to let the homeless looking child across the street probably thought I was insane for bolting across the street.... But they didn't understand how badly I didn't want to be late for work!!!!
I have no shame.
There have been many times it hasn't been a beautiful morning and I have missed the last trolley to be on time for work. Those mornings I HATE. Not just for the rain, but for being late, but for being too stubborn to stay for the next trolley that will arrive 20 minute later. Out of frustration I tend to walk and take shortcuts because I can't stand standing there waiting for 15 minutes when I could be walking toward work in hopes of beating the next trolley.
If you live or work in Seattle you know about the construction going on on Mercer Street. Roads blocked off, lights hanging down, and no sidewalks. And this makes it that much more difficult when you're trying to walk to work in the pooring down rain because you missed the trolley. One day I was running late leaving my house because I couldn't figure out what shoes to wear. I had just picked up my newly altered pants from Nordstrom (which are tailored for me to wear with flats). Part of the dress code requires my feet to be covered and I didn't have time to dig for the appropriate socks or pantyhose(yuck), so I threw on a pair of clogs. Fast forward an hour and a half to me running across Mercer street.... On the wrong side of the street where the cars are getting on and off I-5, with a backpack on, high waters due to clog wearing, and bright purple socks. The people in their cars who were gracious enough to let the homeless looking child across the street probably thought I was insane for bolting across the street.... But they didn't understand how badly I didn't want to be late for work!!!!
I have no shame.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
If you're going through hell, keep going. ~Winston Churchill
This week I had my new employee orientation, just one month after my first day. I thought it was a little delayed, but I met some new friends who had been working for 3 MONTHS and finally were at their new employee orientation. The orientation talked about a lot of guidelines that will protect us and that we need to follow. We went over all of the perks and (minimal) downfalls.
I learned a lot about the organization that made me a proud employee. I mean our #1 business goal is to cure cancer... how awesome is that? It's funny when I tell people about my new job, they all respond with "Oh, that must be so sad..." or "Wow how depressing," or "What are you going to do when they actually cure cancer?" But if you know me at all, you know this is my ideal organization to be a part of, so those who know me responded in a much more positive manner.
Part of the orientation consisted of a patient and caregiver panel, which is the part where they break your heart and remind you why you're there. To make the lives of these people as simple as their lives could possibly be under these circumstances. Every smile, door opened, question answered, or "normal," look, not a look of pity, is what THEY are thankful for. The patients are doing everything in their power to feel strong and normal. They have their moments of weakness, as we all do, but their lows hit miles deeper than ours, and they take every small moment like we do our big moments.
Having several family members go through this journey, some fortunate enough to have won the battle, some who lost, I feel drawn to them. I understand that being a caregiver can be just as hard as being the patient. You are with them every step of the way and you have to pick them up and carry them when they can't carry themselves. Console them when they're scared and celebrate with them when they reach their milestones. Hearing the stories of these patients and caregivers puts your life into perspective. Everyday we wake up, we get into our morning routine and go on with our day, while these patients wake up thankful to be alive another day, thankful to have found a match for a transplant, thankful to not have to be admitted.
The patients seen on my floor are SICK, very sick. They are blasted with chemo and radiation, their immune systems are hardly existent, and are receiving bone marrow transplants, in hopes that it will take. You can only receive a handful of bone marrow transplants (3 I believe, but don't quote me on that, I'm still learning). Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. Even those that work can cause complications down the road. It is very important for these patients to stay away from those who are sick because it is very easy for them to quickly turn down a bad road by coming in contact with one doorknob touched by a person recovering from a cold. It is EXTREMELY important for me to NOT come to work if I am feeling sick. Even if I am feeling SYMPTOMS of something, I am NEVER to come to work. One flu bug could kill a patient.
Boy oh boy, after hearing Infection Control's speech at the orientation I have turned into a complete germaphobe. They handed antibacterial soap/purell to every other person at the table and had them shake hands with someone who didn't receive the soap. THEN they walked around with a black light to show you how many germs were ALL OVER YOUR HANDS. It was DISGUSTING. Let me just say to all of you who are grossed out by public bathrooms, guess what, I guarantee you your toilet at home is full of more germs than public bathrooms. Public bathrooms are cleaned daily... many of them are cleaned multiple times a day. Cell phones, work phones, doorknobs, keyboards, and computer mouses are the DIRTIEST and most germ filled things we use everyday.
And seeing how many people walk out of the bathroom with their phone in the hands makes me pray to God that they washed their hands with some extreme friction before grabbing a hold of their cell phones and put them to their faces.
Interesting fact from Infection Control: Antibacterial soaps like purell are better than using regular soap. Regular soap washes off the germs but does not kill the germs, while antibacterial soaps kill the germs.
Three big lessons this week....
1. WASH YOUR HANDS after you do anything you can think of :)
2. Be thankful for your life you have :)
3. Tell the cancer survivors you know that they kick ass... and those who didn't make it, you can still tell them they kick ass... they'll hear you :)
I learned a lot about the organization that made me a proud employee. I mean our #1 business goal is to cure cancer... how awesome is that? It's funny when I tell people about my new job, they all respond with "Oh, that must be so sad..." or "Wow how depressing," or "What are you going to do when they actually cure cancer?" But if you know me at all, you know this is my ideal organization to be a part of, so those who know me responded in a much more positive manner.
Part of the orientation consisted of a patient and caregiver panel, which is the part where they break your heart and remind you why you're there. To make the lives of these people as simple as their lives could possibly be under these circumstances. Every smile, door opened, question answered, or "normal," look, not a look of pity, is what THEY are thankful for. The patients are doing everything in their power to feel strong and normal. They have their moments of weakness, as we all do, but their lows hit miles deeper than ours, and they take every small moment like we do our big moments.
Having several family members go through this journey, some fortunate enough to have won the battle, some who lost, I feel drawn to them. I understand that being a caregiver can be just as hard as being the patient. You are with them every step of the way and you have to pick them up and carry them when they can't carry themselves. Console them when they're scared and celebrate with them when they reach their milestones. Hearing the stories of these patients and caregivers puts your life into perspective. Everyday we wake up, we get into our morning routine and go on with our day, while these patients wake up thankful to be alive another day, thankful to have found a match for a transplant, thankful to not have to be admitted.
The patients seen on my floor are SICK, very sick. They are blasted with chemo and radiation, their immune systems are hardly existent, and are receiving bone marrow transplants, in hopes that it will take. You can only receive a handful of bone marrow transplants (3 I believe, but don't quote me on that, I'm still learning). Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. Even those that work can cause complications down the road. It is very important for these patients to stay away from those who are sick because it is very easy for them to quickly turn down a bad road by coming in contact with one doorknob touched by a person recovering from a cold. It is EXTREMELY important for me to NOT come to work if I am feeling sick. Even if I am feeling SYMPTOMS of something, I am NEVER to come to work. One flu bug could kill a patient.
Boy oh boy, after hearing Infection Control's speech at the orientation I have turned into a complete germaphobe. They handed antibacterial soap/purell to every other person at the table and had them shake hands with someone who didn't receive the soap. THEN they walked around with a black light to show you how many germs were ALL OVER YOUR HANDS. It was DISGUSTING. Let me just say to all of you who are grossed out by public bathrooms, guess what, I guarantee you your toilet at home is full of more germs than public bathrooms. Public bathrooms are cleaned daily... many of them are cleaned multiple times a day. Cell phones, work phones, doorknobs, keyboards, and computer mouses are the DIRTIEST and most germ filled things we use everyday.
And seeing how many people walk out of the bathroom with their phone in the hands makes me pray to God that they washed their hands with some extreme friction before grabbing a hold of their cell phones and put them to their faces.
Interesting fact from Infection Control: Antibacterial soaps like purell are better than using regular soap. Regular soap washes off the germs but does not kill the germs, while antibacterial soaps kill the germs.
Three big lessons this week....
1. WASH YOUR HANDS after you do anything you can think of :)
2. Be thankful for your life you have :)
3. Tell the cancer survivors you know that they kick ass... and those who didn't make it, you can still tell them they kick ass... they'll hear you :)
Sunday, March 11, 2012
A Blazin' Friday Morning
When I started this blog, I originally had the idea I would write about all of the good, bad, and ugly experiences on the bus. But then I freaked out wondering if I would have enough material to write a blog... well, anytime I think about writing about normal life, something on the bus happens that trumps all my other ideas. So, you have to bare with me and my random posts.
Last week was a pretty calm week until Thursday. On my bus ride home I thought the man sitting 3 rows behind me was going to hack up a lung on the woman in front of him. It was that awful coughing, followed by gagging, followed by gasping for air. Everyone was looking around uncomfortably wondering is this person still alive or what?! The bus driver even asked, "Is everyone ok?" And when no one responded, he said under his breath, "Aw hell no, this shit ain't happenin on my watch." He glanced back to see the man was still in fact alive, but just barely. The reason we all knew he was alive was because that horrible coughing, gagging, gasping continued for the first 20 minutes on the bus, which led to me gagging and my eyes filling up with tears for the next 20 minutes. I can handle diaper changing, blood, puke, snot, you name it... but the sound of gagging makes me gag in the most unladylike manner.
Picking your seat on the bus reminds me a lot of picking teams in PE class in middle school. You size everyone up and try to avoid the chatty ones, the stinky ones, or the downright WEIRD ones. And the same when you're in your seat, waiting for the person who sits next to you. It's amazing how many people have said to me since I started my new job "Ooooh, maybe you'll meet someone on the bus!!" Clearly they have never ridden public transporation.... EVER!
Friday I climb up on the bus and am looking for who I want/have to sit next to. I sit next to a man, who was sleeping, and I was hoping he would sleep the whole time to avoid awkward stranger conversation at 6:30 AM. All of the sudden, the man starts to lean over to me and in my mind I'm thinking is he going to ask me for a piece of gum, which he later did after accusing me of bringing weed on the bus...
He spits out: "Did you bring weed on the bus?"
Me: "Uh no, do I smell like I did?"
Man: "Yes."
Me: "Well, I didn't. I can't even smell anything."
Man: (in an accusing tone) "Well, I can smell it and it smells strong...it's just weird, I mean it's a little early for weed don't you think?
Me: "Yeah, well obviously it's not too early for some people."
Maybe it was the way I was clutching my purse that made him think I was hiding some goods? Or maybe it was my cardigan, cordoroy pants, and dansko clogs that screamed to him STONER!?!
Last week was a pretty calm week until Thursday. On my bus ride home I thought the man sitting 3 rows behind me was going to hack up a lung on the woman in front of him. It was that awful coughing, followed by gagging, followed by gasping for air. Everyone was looking around uncomfortably wondering is this person still alive or what?! The bus driver even asked, "Is everyone ok?" And when no one responded, he said under his breath, "Aw hell no, this shit ain't happenin on my watch." He glanced back to see the man was still in fact alive, but just barely. The reason we all knew he was alive was because that horrible coughing, gagging, gasping continued for the first 20 minutes on the bus, which led to me gagging and my eyes filling up with tears for the next 20 minutes. I can handle diaper changing, blood, puke, snot, you name it... but the sound of gagging makes me gag in the most unladylike manner.
Picking your seat on the bus reminds me a lot of picking teams in PE class in middle school. You size everyone up and try to avoid the chatty ones, the stinky ones, or the downright WEIRD ones. And the same when you're in your seat, waiting for the person who sits next to you. It's amazing how many people have said to me since I started my new job "Ooooh, maybe you'll meet someone on the bus!!" Clearly they have never ridden public transporation.... EVER!
Friday I climb up on the bus and am looking for who I want/have to sit next to. I sit next to a man, who was sleeping, and I was hoping he would sleep the whole time to avoid awkward stranger conversation at 6:30 AM. All of the sudden, the man starts to lean over to me and in my mind I'm thinking is he going to ask me for a piece of gum, which he later did after accusing me of bringing weed on the bus...
He spits out: "Did you bring weed on the bus?"
Me: "Uh no, do I smell like I did?"
Man: "Yes."
Me: "Well, I didn't. I can't even smell anything."
Man: (in an accusing tone) "Well, I can smell it and it smells strong...it's just weird, I mean it's a little early for weed don't you think?
Me: "Yeah, well obviously it's not too early for some people."
Maybe it was the way I was clutching my purse that made him think I was hiding some goods? Or maybe it was my cardigan, cordoroy pants, and dansko clogs that screamed to him STONER!?!
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Flashback Friday
Flashback Friday? Yes, it's Thursday... but I wanted a jumpstart to my Friday. Now, I've seen a lot of bloggers do "Flashback Friday," for a while and everytime I see one, I think I should do it, too. But by the time Friday comes and goes, it's Saturday and I have forgotten all about it.
If you know me at all, you know I LOVE taking pictures. I am thankful there are so many pictures of my childhood because I have a horrible memory and this helps me remember.
Senior year in high school you are to create an autobiography composed of pictures, essays, parent interviews, etc. My sister, brother and I all did one and as I recall, my sister's is about 4 inches thick, my brother's was about 4 pages thick, and mine was about 2 inches thick. Every once in a while we drag them out to look at the pictures and interviews to get a good laugh. My sister has a whole page of photos dedicated to "the look." If looks could kill... anyone that has ever pissed my sister off... would be dead. I decided I would pull my Friday flashback pictures from my autobiography and after going through some pictures tonight, I realize I am a close runner up to my sister's, for a lack of better word, "bitchy," looks.
If you know me at all, you know I LOVE taking pictures. I am thankful there are so many pictures of my childhood because I have a horrible memory and this helps me remember.
Senior year in high school you are to create an autobiography composed of pictures, essays, parent interviews, etc. My sister, brother and I all did one and as I recall, my sister's is about 4 inches thick, my brother's was about 4 pages thick, and mine was about 2 inches thick. Every once in a while we drag them out to look at the pictures and interviews to get a good laugh. My sister has a whole page of photos dedicated to "the look." If looks could kill... anyone that has ever pissed my sister off... would be dead. I decided I would pull my Friday flashback pictures from my autobiography and after going through some pictures tonight, I realize I am a close runner up to my sister's, for a lack of better word, "bitchy," looks.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Are you a bucket filler?
Between teaching preschool and being a nanny for a few different families in the last couple of years I thought I had read every children's book ever written. Wrong! There is a book called "Have You Filled a Bucket Today?" The book talks about how we each have an invisible bucket that holds our feelings. When our bucket is full, we are happy. When are bucket is empty, we are sad. The book teaches kids to fill other people's buckets by telling them nice things or doing things for others, which also fills their own bucket. But on the other hand, there are also bucket dippers. We all have bucket dippers in our lives, as children and as adults. Bucket dippers say or do mean things, which empty their own bucket and empty the buckets of those who they hurt. Bucket dippers dip into other's buckets thinking that it will fill their own, which never works. I know what you're thinking, enough about buckets, right?
Well, whatever. It's a good metaphor.
A few years ago on facebook I signed up for a daily message called "God Wants You to Know." You get an inspirational message every day or two and sometimes it doesn't really apply to my life, but sometimes it is really like God wanted me to know this message TODAY. I had one last week that really stuck to me and have been waiting to blog about it. So, here it is...
"Everyone needs encouragement, but it's so easy to forget to take the time to give it. Think of someone in your life whom you appreciate today, or someone who made you smile, - and tell them! Even if it's a stranger, take a moment to let them know you noticed."
There were a few things that happened in the last two weeks that made me think of this message. One of them was at my new job, I was asked to find out some specific information on an undergrad research internship and volunteer opportunities at my new job. I was to report back to the doctor, who was on vacation. Since I leave at 11 every morning, getting this project 10 minutes before I leave made me freak out a little bit. So I did a few quick things, stayed a few minutes late and wrote him back before I left. The next day, I received an email from the doctor that was sent the day prior. And this is what it read:
"Thank you so much for all of that helpful information, Leslie. That was a quick response.... Impressive."
Let's just say, my bucket was filled at that moment, especially since the doctor has said a whopping 2 words to me in my 3 weeks of working there.
Another moment that made me think of this message was on the bus last week. Yes, you see crazy people doing crazy things, but you also see random acts of kindness. We made a stop to pick up a man in a wheelchair when a passenger on the bus asked me kindly if I would move for just a minute while he did something. So, I get up and move to a different seat, while this man flips up a few rows of seats, pulls out some clips and has the whole handicap section prepared before the bus driver even got out of his seat. The passenger walks to the door and guides the man up the ramp, clips his wheelchair into the hooks and strikes up conversation with him. And just 3 blocks down the road, he does the same thing to get the man in the wheelchair off the bus. It's wasn't this passenger's job to do this, he doesn't know the man in the wheelchair, and it didn't matter. He took the 5 minutes out of his time while sitting on the bus to help not only the man in the wheelchair, but the bus driver as well. I sat there silently... thinking how nice it was for a complete stranger to do that for him. Had I read my God wants you to know that day, I would have taken the time to let him know I noticed.
A little recognition goes a long way. Now go on and fill some buckets! :)
Well, whatever. It's a good metaphor.
A few years ago on facebook I signed up for a daily message called "God Wants You to Know." You get an inspirational message every day or two and sometimes it doesn't really apply to my life, but sometimes it is really like God wanted me to know this message TODAY. I had one last week that really stuck to me and have been waiting to blog about it. So, here it is...
"Everyone needs encouragement, but it's so easy to forget to take the time to give it. Think of someone in your life whom you appreciate today, or someone who made you smile, - and tell them! Even if it's a stranger, take a moment to let them know you noticed."
There were a few things that happened in the last two weeks that made me think of this message. One of them was at my new job, I was asked to find out some specific information on an undergrad research internship and volunteer opportunities at my new job. I was to report back to the doctor, who was on vacation. Since I leave at 11 every morning, getting this project 10 minutes before I leave made me freak out a little bit. So I did a few quick things, stayed a few minutes late and wrote him back before I left. The next day, I received an email from the doctor that was sent the day prior. And this is what it read:
"Thank you so much for all of that helpful information, Leslie. That was a quick response.... Impressive."
Let's just say, my bucket was filled at that moment, especially since the doctor has said a whopping 2 words to me in my 3 weeks of working there.
Another moment that made me think of this message was on the bus last week. Yes, you see crazy people doing crazy things, but you also see random acts of kindness. We made a stop to pick up a man in a wheelchair when a passenger on the bus asked me kindly if I would move for just a minute while he did something. So, I get up and move to a different seat, while this man flips up a few rows of seats, pulls out some clips and has the whole handicap section prepared before the bus driver even got out of his seat. The passenger walks to the door and guides the man up the ramp, clips his wheelchair into the hooks and strikes up conversation with him. And just 3 blocks down the road, he does the same thing to get the man in the wheelchair off the bus. It's wasn't this passenger's job to do this, he doesn't know the man in the wheelchair, and it didn't matter. He took the 5 minutes out of his time while sitting on the bus to help not only the man in the wheelchair, but the bus driver as well. I sat there silently... thinking how nice it was for a complete stranger to do that for him. Had I read my God wants you to know that day, I would have taken the time to let him know I noticed.
A little recognition goes a long way. Now go on and fill some buckets! :)
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