This is my neighborhood post blizzard. See that teeny black sliver above the railing? That's the only sign of my car which was completely buried in snow. Three--count 'em THREE--feet in one storm. Nor'easters are a force to be reckoned with.
After three days of this paralysis, a payloader finally broke through the street. Those people worked round the clock, getting stuck themselves, dodging pedestrians and shrouded vehicles. It was nerve-wracking, mind-numbing, and heroic. But he couldn't clear the entire road, just past my driveway. There he stopped. I'm guessing someone else was in charge of that other portion. You have to stop plowing somewhere, or you end up circumnavigating the Earth.
Up the street, Amy stepped out of her house and observed that she was still snow bound. I was just wrapping up days of back-breaking work when she saw me and, yelling over the sound of a snow blower, expressed her astonishment. "How come they didn't plow me out?!?! I'll never be able to get to work!"
Spent and aching, I mustered as much goodwill as I could. "Think of it as a vacation!"
"How could they be so stupid!?!?! What idiots!!!"
That's my hot-button. When I know someone has given their all to an effort and hear criticism of him, I lose it. I rarely lose it. But I lost it at that moment and made a very impatient and frankly irrational reply before stomping into my house.
Then the inevitable guilt set in. I handled it really badly. I was insensitive to her situation and made myself look like a jerk as well. I had to clean it up. I chose to go over to her house the next day and apologize, then offer to take her grocery shopping with me. "Go over." I write that so glibly. She is maybe 20 yards away from me. But it meant I had to swim through waves of hip-deep snow to get there. Every step was a booby trap. In an act of poetic justice, I fell on my face a couple of times. I arrived soaked with cold water and knocked on her door.
She greeted me warmly, and then I stated my reason for coming, offering a sincere apology for my remark.
"What remark?"
"You didn't hear what I said?"
"No, I thought you were just complaining about shoveling. What did you say?"
"Amy, if you didn't hear me, I'm not going to repeat it!" And we both laughed.
Then she turned quite somber. "No, I don't need to go grocery shopping, but thanks for the offer. It was good of you to come over. It's been a hard week for me. It's the anniversary of my mother's death, and my sister attempted suicide. It's too much...." She broke down after that. I simply stood there, giving her my full attention, sending as much love to her as I could. Since I was not invited in, I figured she did not wish to dwell in this place. Then pulling herself together she said, "I just needed someone to tell that to."
I gave her my deepest condolences, she thanked me, and I returned home to send up a prayer for her. Never in a million years would I have guessed that doing something stupid could provide a means to connect with someone in need. If I hadn't blown so rudely, I would never have been moved to visit with her. Amy just isn't one of those neighbors I hang out with.
So I wonder if there are times when being less than perfect opens up opportunities for grace. Maybe the Universe uses our mistakes for a higher good if we are brave enough to own up to them. Maybe storms leave some good in their wake after all.
Pax tecum
