Brief Encounters

The past few months I've been sitting around feeling pretty sorry for myself: the adoption process is not proceeding as I would like; my job situation is precarious and I feel unfit to find any other line of work in a poor economy for job-hunting; I worry about my brothers constantly; our kitchen is still not finished, so my house is still in disarray; my best friend is somewhat incommunicado these days; and there is nasty infighting going on at my church, which, quite frankly, makes me avoid going to church, a place I used to find to be a haven.

But, for some odd reason, as I was sitting here sipping my morning coffee and dreading getting ready to go work, a man I met twenty years ago popped into my head. It was back in the days of when I was canvassing for Illinois Public Action Council; we'd been sent down to this lovely old neighborhood, probably not far from where former Chicago mayor Jane Byrne grew up, full of early 20th century brick houses and tidy lawns. It must have been spring, because I remember green grass. And at one of the houses where I knocked on the door, this lovely old gentleman invited me onto his porch and offered me iced tea and cookies. We chatted for a few moments about the issues I was covering -- we focused on utility issues a lot at that time, to regulate or not -- and, as I recall, I don't believe he agreed with our view. But he was open-minded and courteous, almost courtly.

And as I left his home, he presented me with a potted flower that he'd grown himself. And he thanked me for visiting with him.

It really does make a difference how we treat people we encounter, even so briefly. Because twenty years later, the kindness he showed me helps me face this day a little more readily.

Linda