Seven Backpacks, a Heart Attack, and a Chocolate Cake

photo credit kitchen joy

She smiles often. She has four teeth…scattered along her gums. I’m not sure that I’m woman enough to smile if I only had four teeth.

She’s frail, appearing older than I know she is. Her life is harsh. Her poverty is not what makes it so.  

She was waiting for me by the gate today. Some days, she prefers to wave as she walks by. Some days, she pretends like she doesn’t see me at all.

Not today. Today she waited.  

She wastes no time with the pleasantries of small talk. She gets right to her point. “Did I miss the backpacks,” she quizzed.

“No, we didn’t give away school supplies this year," I replied apologetically. 

“Oh”. Her pause was long, emphasizing her disappointment. "I was in the hospital and thought I missed it. I had a heart attack. Three stents.”

She lifted her wrist. Multiple vinyl hospital bracelets still dangled there. “I keep these on in case I have to go back. In case I have another stroke.”  

My neighborhood friends aren’t much on small talk. They don’t ask about the family, they don’t comment on a new hair style and they don’t ponder if it might rain today. Their lives are more urgent than that.  

Lupe continued with her story. She was out collecting aluminum cans one morning. She felt funny. She had felt that way before, when she had her stroke.

She walked into the firehouse. Dutifully, they checked her over. Indeed, she was having a heart attack. As they were transporting her to a hospital,  she flat lined.  

She remembers it well. She was in her grandmother’s kitchen. Her grandmother had a beautiful chocolate cake on the table. Lupe was a child. Excitedly, she bit off a corner of the cake. Her grandmother scolded her.

"Ma’am….ma’am….wake up! Do you know where you are? What is your name?" She awoke in the Emergency Room with doctors and nurses surrounding her.

She brushed her fingers over her lips to wipe clean the chocolate frosting she was sure was still there. “I could taste my Abuela’s cake. It was delicious.”

Another pause. It seemed she longed for that moment again. Perhaps it was the ease of childhood or the comfort of her grandmother’s home.  

“Do you know if anyone else is giving away backpacks? I have seven grandkids and I don’t have anything for them to take to school.” Her reality startled mine once again.  

I’ve prayed for her as she wept when one of those grandchildren was born addicted to crack cocaine.

I’ve listened as she talked about her husband. A hardworking man who does as he pleases, including hitting her when the paychecks are small and the beer is large.

I’ve stood beside her at Christmas as she sang O Holy Night like an angel.

And I’ve smiled as she proudly displayed a huge bag of fresh okra that someone gave her from their garden.  

“Let me see what I can come up with and I will call you tomorrow,” I promised.   

I made my way to the check out. Backpacks – 2 pink, 3 blue, 2 mesh, spiral notebooks, crayons, glue sticks, pencils, pens, pocket folders, notebook paper.

“You must have a bunch of kids!” the cashier exclaimed. I smiled. “Something like that”.  

Back at home, the oven timer beeped. The smell of chocolate filled the house. The double fudge cake cooled on the counter while I loaded up the backpacks. I smoothed the thick frosting over the cake…twice. It had to be good.  

I pulled up to her home. I noticed a blue vinyl tarp on the roof. She would tell me later that the tarp was covering a large hole in the roof. It was fine most of the time…except when it rained.

I opened the back of my Suburban. She smiled when she saw all that was for her.  

“A cake…a chocolate cake!"

Delighted, she made multiple trips carrying the goods into the house. I offered to help, knowing that I would not be allowed inside. I know the boundaries…just like the days she doesn’t choose to wave.  

That’s okay. Today, I was allowed into her heart. And that’s just fine with me.

Pity Party - Table for One

Just gonna put it out there.

I feel sorry for myself.

There.  I said it.  

Poor me.

Life has rendered its share of ups and downs lately. No one really needs guidance to deal with the up side. We can all get behind that. It’s the struggle…disappointment…heartache that we need help with.

Some things really are unfair. And it seems like when it rains, it pours.    

Sometimes, it’s dust from the past stirring up in a new day. Who hasn’t been there?

Perhaps something we thought we had worked through, needs more attention. Maybe our loved ones have been distant when we need their support.

Maybe we’re left out by a group of friends, lose a job, feel the sting of rejection, or get a serious diagnosis.

And then, some stuff is of our own choosing. Ouch. Yeah. We choose. A misery of our own making.

It’s in those times we choose to point the finger at circumstance…a safe place for blame that requires little personal responsibility. Ouch again.

We’re quick to assign our unhappiness to someone or something else, recruiting others to validate our feelings.

And a look in the mirror after a good cry aides in feeling sorry for ourselves….our puffy eyed, blotchy faced selves.

But pity is risky business.

It begins with a thought.

And then another.

Before you know it, there is a nest making its home in your mind.

It didn’t just happen. Just as a nest is assembled twig by twig, each selfish thought has made its contribution to pity.

If not properly dealt with, it gives way to a negative attitude and a hardened heart.

Please friend, don’t go there.

Things will get better…even if it’s only your perspective that changes.  

The surest way I know how to move forward is by reaching out. Talk to a trusted friend. Not one who will trash and bash with you, but someone who loves you enough to tell you the truth…

...even if it means telling you that you are wrong.

Sing, dance, pray, take a walk, get coffee, buy flowers, rearrange furniture, wear bold lipstick, try a new hair style, read a book. Do something on purpose that replaces pity with a positive.

Perhaps neglecting yourself has given way to feeling sorry for yourself. A healthy balance is just that. Healthy.

Focus on someone else. There is always, always, always someone who is going through something far more challenging who could use a kind gesture.

You’ll be amazed at what taking your eyes off of yourself will do for you. Smile, send a card, hold a door, make a casserole.

Then fill your mind and heart with good things. Someone else has traveled the road you’re on and they have a story to share. It will help you.

Words of Gold is a great place to find just that. The young, the old, and the in between sharing, encouraging one another.

We are not alone. A hand is waiting. Take hold.

Meet Sonja - Why She Found Joy in Serving Teens

"When I was asked to work with high school youth, I thought, why do they want me?
I wasn’t sure high school kids would want to talk to me. But they were very open and made me feel comfortable.

I was so in awe of their faith. On the news, we always hear about young people who have made bad choices. Older people tend to get fearful of the youth because they only know about those they see on TV and in the paper.

I live in a community of older people. I try to get them to understand that teens are exciting people. They may dress differently, talk differently, but they’re fascinating!

I don’t share a lot about my world with teens because it’s really not relevant to them. I do if they ask, but otherwise I focus on their interests and their world. That’s how I stay connected to them. I try to keep up with the trends, listen to their music, try to understand where they’re coming from. I don’t expect them to do that for me. They’re young. That’s not their job. It’s my responsibility as the adult to learn about their culture.

I think another mistake we as older people make is to criticize younger people. We can’t do that. We have to accept them for who they are. I wouldn’t want to be treated that way. I still make mistakes. But if they’re really having problems, then we can try to guide them.

My college granddaughters are so vibrant and wonderful! When I talk to them, we talk about how God has a wonderful plan for their lives. And they have to be patient for that plan and obedient to that plan. I think that's where we all go wrong sometimes. In the waiting and the obeying.

I’ve had some terrible hurts in my own life and I’ve only found peace in those times through forgiveness. And that only comes through Jesus. I’m not able to do that. I’ve known friends that couldn’t forgive and it tainted everything in their life, like a cancer.

My parents always said that you’re not here on this earth to be served. You serve others. That’s where the joy comes from."