Do you ever get lucky and know that you really just don’t deserve it? Read on. In my effort to be actively engaged at our First Parish Church in York, Maine, I am a member of a six member Mission Committee. One of our members came up with a fantastic idea of a summer clothes drive for children in Honduras. As part of the Amigos Bucket Program (filling five-gallon buckets with food for families in Honduras), these clothes will also be sent south this coming June.) When I got the email about helping out, and I am not proud of this, I just put it out of my mind. How do we spell slacker? D-A-N. And then something unexpected happened…
…Sunday in church Hannah and I sat in the right side pews and looked up to see that we were directly behind the visionary woman who had organized the clothing drive. Clearly, it was a sign. How could I not commit to helping out that very afternoon from twelve to three? I couldn’t and I did.
Showing up at noon after church, I was surprised to see other committee members there. You see, no one “replied all” to the email invitation so I didn’t know if anyone else was coming. Man oh man, did I almost blow it. In the downstairs scout room, we sorted shirts, clipped off tags, packed and taped boxes for three hours. Let me tell you that it doesn’t get much better than this: working together as a team for a meaningful goal. Being a part of teams is one of my five wishes (Gay Hendricks, Five Wishes) for retirement. In a low key setting, we six got to work and laugh together and better know each other in ways no every-other-monthly-meeting could do.
Fact is, I now believe that groups/committees should come up with a group work project when new members join to build cohesion and connection and commitment among the members.
I got lucky today.
Pay it forward. Our town of York has scheduled an E-Waste drive for families to bring old computers, televisions, and batteries to York Village Elementary School on a Saturday morning. Having an old computer, Hannah and I stopped by and followed the orange pylons that funneled us to eager parents who were taking the e-stuff from our trunk and piling them into the tractor trailer. As we drove in, we had passed mothers and daughters selling popcorn, brownies, muffins, and coffee on this raw, overcast March morning. Funneled out of the parking lot, we headed for home.
Within five seconds, Hannah pulled to the side of the road on York Street and wondered aloud if we blew it by not buying something and donating to their cause. Clearly, blew it we had; ergo, we turned back and stopped just past the bake sellers and stepped out. I handed a dollar to the girls standing behind the goodies and said, We don’t want anything, but we would like to donate and pay for the next person who comes wanting to buy something. Can you do that? They totally didn’t get us, but their mothers did. We then handed them two more dollars and asked them to get something for the officer directing traffic down at the bottom of the hill on this cold gray morning. That seemed clearer and they immediately started talking about what to give him.
We didn’t know any of the kids or the mothers. Once done, we got in the car and headed for home as originally planned. I have no idea what happened, but I have faith and trust that something good did.
Hannah leaves Durgin Pines Nursing Home
After four years as the beloved hairdresser (and if you know Hannah that adjective is no overstatement), Hannah was given a surprise going away party to mark her retirement.
Joyfully celebrated for being a woman who valued each and every resident by taking the time to listen to them, know them, and celebrate their lives one haircut at a time, Hannah got teary with each look into the residents' and the staffs’ eyes that afternoon.
The most touching part was when from one side, a resident was rolled forward in her wheelchair and then placed a flower in the vase that Hannah was holding. As she did, Hannah knelt and talked with her as if she was the only one in this room of seventy people, while holding her hands and shedding a few tears. She then pivoted 180 degrees and from the other direction another resident was wheeled to her to place his flower and get a personal good-bye from Hannah.
If there was a Nursing Home Hall of Fame for hairdressers, Hannah would be in it.
Hannah's salon (up and down)
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