Give Someone the Gift of Helping You

/ colleen arnold / 8 Comments Featured

Recently, I took my mom for a leisurely afternoon drive to an ice cream and dairy store several towns over from her home.

We meandered down River Road as we reminisced and laughed together about my childhood days. After a while, our mouths were dry, and we were hungry; it was ice cream time.

Mom opted to wait in the car while I went in to get our treats. Inside, the dairy shop was bright and cool. Refrigerators filled with fresh milk and cheese lined one wall, while freezers full of gallons of ice cream lined another. Old-fashioned Formica tables were occupied by several people clearly enjoying their ice cream.

I ordered a hot fudge sundae for my mom and perused the long list of flavors before deciding on a cup of salted caramel for myself. Although I ordered us each a small cup, these were wonderfully large. As the clerk handed them to me, my eyes fell on the sign behind her that read, “No credit or debit cards accepted.”

She must have seen my face fall, and she said, “Yes, we’re a cash-only business.” I never have cash, so this was a deal-breaker, but I answered that maybe I could scrounge up some out in the car.

“If I’m not back in two minutes, it means I couldn’t find any. I’m so sorry!” I said as the ice cream sat woefully waiting on the counter.

I headed out, and just as the door was about to close behind me, I heard a man shout, “Wait!” He had just paid for his purchase and said, “I have some cash left.” He turned to the clerk and asked, “How much is it?” When she answered, his face fell. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning back to me, “I don’t have that much.

“Oh, wait a minute,” a lady in line behind him said. “I have a little extra.” She piled a handful of change on the counter. Before I knew what was happening, everyone in the shop was digging in their pockets, adding quarters and wadded-up dollar bills onto the counter.

“Ok, Ok,” the clerk laughed. “You’ve all got it covered.”

“Thank you,” I murmured as I picked up the large cups, very appreciative but also very embarrassed.

After I got back in the car, grateful tears welled up, and I told my mom what happened.

“Yes,” she said, “it was nice of them to help us out. But it was also nice of you to let them.”

I’ve thought a lot about her comment. If the donations hadn’t happened so fast, I probably wouldn’t have accepted them. I don’t like the uncomfortable feeling of being “indebted” to someone else, especially when I could have easily paid for my treats if credit cards were accepted.

But it occurs to me that if we don’t let others help us, the world will get out of practice at doing it. 

Maybe we need to let go of our pride a little more often.
Maybe we need to be a little better at accepting the generous ways others volunteer to assist us.
Maybe we can tamp down our egos a bit and let others experience the joy of helping someone else.

The world is full of good people. We just need to give them a chance to show it. Food for thought 😊

And yes, the ice cream was delicious!

Where Does Time Go?

/ colleen arnold / Leave a comment

It’s hard to believe it’s already been a year since I retired from medicine. Where did the time go? I share the sentiment with friends who nod in agreement and shrug, as if to say, “Who knows? But I feel the same way.”

Life is too short to let it race by without paying attention. It’s also too short to spend it doing things that aren’t fulfilling. So now that the newness of retirement and of getting married again after all these years of widowhood is behind me, I’m doing some self-searching.

Here’s how the questions look for me; maybe the list will give you some ideas of your own.

Is most of my time spent doing something meaningful and enjoyable? Does it reflect my beliefs about God? Family? Love?

Am I stopping regularly to notice and relish the little moments of joy and wonder? The vast night sky, the buzzing of a hummingbird, or the sweetness of a perfect summer watermelon?

Am I saying “yes” to things I don’t really want to do, to be a people-pleaser, or because my ego talks me into it? Or have I said “yes” to so many wonderful things that I jump from one to the next in a constant blur of busyness?

Am I saying “no” to things I want to do because I’m afraid of what could go wrong?  Or worried about what others might say?

Am I balancing care for others with care for myself – getting enough sleep, enjoying healthy food, setting aside time for quiet prayer, exercising regularly?

Like me, spend some time reflecting and writing down your thoughts. Because now comes the harder part. If my honest answers point to a problem, it’s time to do things differently.

Can I spend less time scrolling the internet and reading social media?

Can I delegate things that don’t fulfill me and focus more on those that do?

Can I spend less time on my projects and more time on my people?

Can I honestly assess my time and accept that I cannot do everything – even if everything I want to do is good?

I will remember to be flexible, since God’s plans might be different from mine, but even a small change can empower me to make more gradually. This mindful process helps me take time to look at my life, instead of letting it fritter away without paying attention.

After all, time is not a renewable resource.

Dear God, thank you for the blessing of time you have given.
Please help me use mine wisely and joyfully.
Amen

An Otter Blessing

/ colleen arnold / 8 Comments

A few days ago, it was 105° outside. I was determined to take my daily walk, so I laced up my shoes, grabbed my dog, Libby, and drove to a trail just across the river from our house.

I hadn’t been there in a while, but from what I remembered, the first half meandered along a cliff overlooking the water and led down to a beach of tiny rocks. The second half led through a tall forest canopy and ended back at the trailhead parking spot. It was only a mile and a half long and seemed like a perfect walk for a summer day.

When we got there, Libby was not inclined to get out of our van because the parking area was a sweltering open field. I encouraged her with treats and promises of adventures to come, so she grudgingly hopped out.

The first few hundred yards of the hike were a lot sunnier than I remembered, and once we got into a little bit of shade, the trail also became much steeper than I remembered.

Libby stopped every few feet as if to say, “Seriously? We’re doing this now?”

By the time we got to the cliff, she was panting, and I was drenched. My sunglasses slid repeatedly down my wet nose, and elbow sweat dripped down my forearm into my hand and onto Libby’s leash. Hot perspiration puddled in my clothes and underwear.

Needless to say, it was not the relaxing summer hike I envisioned. I considered turning back, but since we were already halfway, we trudged on. I cheered up a little when we reached the path that led to the river.

It was still scorching hot, but I found a rock to sit on, and the sound of the gurgling river was refreshing. I dangled my toes in the cool water as Libby waded out to survey the area.

Suddenly, I saw a flash of movement on a nearby rock, and a river otter skittered by. Another otter quickly joined him, and they played and splashed together like two toddlers. Libby and I were both spellbound as we watched their delightful antics.

When the otters finally jumped into the water and swam away, Libby and I started back on our walk. The return loop was just as shady as I remembered; a cool breeze filtered through the leaves, and I was invigorated by the lovely otter show we’d experienced.

I’m still thinking about those cute, playful creatures today.  Even though I walk on my side of the river almost daily, I’ve never seen otters.  I’m grateful to have spotted them: glad I persevered and didn’t turn around early; thankful I wasn’t so distracted by my distress that I missed them. 

Perseverance and presence aren’t always easy when we’re suffering. The experience was a good reminder that sometimes we have to go through bad stuff to get to the good stuff…and that even in the middle of the bad stuff, we can find something to be grateful for.

So when it’s hard and uphill, don’t give up – you just might see an otter.