Tucker’s Angel

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When I walk into my office each morning, my lights automatically come on. This morning, I noticed they were already illuminated. Someone had been in there.

I scanned my desk to see if someone had dropped off a printout, an expense check or some sort of document, but I didn’t notice anything.

Once I set my purse and lunch down, however, I spotted it.

A small, yellow envelope was on my computer keyboard. It was addressed to Tucker, my rescue who has been in poor health lately. I opened it and read the following:

Get well soon, Tucker! And be a good kitty, too.

It was a message that felt like an exhale in an envelope. The past two weeks have been challenging, and while we’re not completely done with the vet appointments, it reminded me of how far he’s come.

But there was more. Inside the envelope, there was cash — quite a bit of it. I was moved to tears.

I hadn’t made the vet expenses a secret while I was filling people in on Tucker’s predicament, but I wasn’t trying to hint at needing assistance, either. The fact that the card wasn’t signed, however, indicated that I was simply holding a good deed — a deed that I’d be able to one day pay forward.

Someone listened, someone wanted to help, and someone wished to remain anonymous.

I began making my way around the office to try to find the person who felt compelled to reach out in such a moving manner. I eventually found out who had left the Tucker envelope in my office, and anonymity is still preferred. I shall oblige.

…but not without saying that I have never before felt so humbled.

I’ve never before felt like a person who would be so fortunate to experience such an act in her life.

I’ve never before had my faith in humanity restored the way it was this morning, and not because of any money — simply because of the care, the heart, the thought, and the time that was taken.

For angels among us, for an act of kindness so big it ushered in a waterfall of tiny tears, and for the opportunity to be able to help someone the way I was helped today, I am more than thankful.

I am inspired.

I am blessed.

Thank you, Tucker’s angel.

Touch anywhere.

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I boarded the plane, and the seat-back TV was staring at me.

“Touch anywhere to begin.”

It seemed straightforward enough, but the command made me think of my long-running streak of singledom. I snickered a little as I turned the words around in my head. I’d never before known instructions to seem both risqué and innocent, both naughty and nice.

Instead of touching anything and making a digital beeline to the moving map, I pondered its direction.

Touch is essential. To establish an emotional connection, the heart needs to be touched.

To help, lend a hand with a gentle touch.

To care for, extend a hand with someone’s best interest in mind.

To show love, wipe away tears throughout the decades, cradle a face despite the wrinkles and draw close in a warm embrace.

I’ve let touch which lacked good intentions be the start of a “relationship” before, and every time I have, it inevitably ended. Touch fueled by nothing more than the physical can often fail miserably, and for me it has.

Touch. It can be heavy-handed or well-meaning, and the latter is certainly the better place to begin.

Tonight I am thankful for the seat-back reminder about the power of touch, and for knowing that being touched by an act of caring is one of the best ways to start any sort of relationship — friend or more.

What about the guy?

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I’m hearing a phrase more and more these days, and it’s a bit troubling to me.

“Happy wife, happy life.”

Really?

I’ve been familiar with it for years, but I heard it in a Weight Watchers commercial tonight, I’ve heard it on an episode of HGTV’s House Hunters and I often hear it in casual conversation.

It makes me feel about as warm and fuzzy as I feel when I hear a Bridezilla whine about it being her day.

No, no. No, it’s not your day. It’s also your husband’s day, it’s your guests’ day, your vendors’ day — it’s everyone’s day, because everyone wants to have a good time.

It might be her big day, but she does not own it and the people who are present are not servants. They’re there to make the day great for everyone. You think a vendor wants to have a terrible time? No. They want to get home at 3am, kiss their sleeping kids on the forehead and feel like time away from their family was worth it. And if you turn on any of these crazy wedding shows, I’m guessing very few of them feel that way when they get home.

But back to my favorite phrase: what about the guy? Where’s his line? Why is it seemingly all about the girl?

A happy wife does not automatically equal a happy life, particularly if she’s only concerned with her own happiness. Nothing is a guarantee these days (what’s the divorce rate again?), but when spouses place each other on a pedestal, that seems like it could be a good place to start.

Tonight I am thankful for these silly lines that open my eyes to the fact that it’s never about one person. If the line is a joke and nothing more, that’s one thing. But at the end of the day, I suspect there’s a lot to be said for it being about compromise, a solid partnership and in keeping the well-being of your relationship protected, respected and top of mind. It’s a two-way street even when things are rocky, torn up or under construction, it’s give and take even if we don’t feel like giving and the person across the table should always be seen as a blessing — never a servant.

On the move.

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Ever have those days that make you want to throw your hands up, walk away from everything familiar and set off — on foot — with a canteen, a tent, some walking shoes, snacks, a hat and jacket?

No destination comes to mind — anywhere open will do. No particular scenery is a must-have, with the exception of a place where millions of stars fill the sky and the moon is so bright that it casts moon shadows.

I’d welcome the blisters on my feet because they’d speak to progress that I’m making in at least one area of my life.

I’d happily greet a sunburn and bad tan lines because they’d indicate that I’m no longer stuck in one spot. I’m on the move.

I’d tip my hat to a bit of dirt behind my ears because it wouldn’t be a sign of complacency — it’s a sign of sweat and good old-fashioned grime built up from hoofing it, day in and day out.

I know I say that I’d welcome this or happily greet that if my life wasn’t what it is, but the truth is that I see all the talk for what it is: an escape. I know that whatever is in my real life is here for a reason, no matter how frustrating it might be.

It’s here for a lesson, to encourage my faith, to show me what I’m lacking or to shine a light on what I have in others.

Regardless of how often I’d like to fill a backpack and hit the road to so-called happiness and carefree bliss, I am thankful for the happiness that exists in my life today and as it is. It’s happiness like no other, and at the end of the day I don’t have to be on the move to know it’s there.

In real life

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A certain place has been popping into my head a lot lately.

It’s evening, it’s a quaint street, there are white lights strewn in bare trees, and there’s the slightest bit of snow that’s built up along the sidewalks. A two-lane street bends slightly up ahead, and people are out for a leisurely stroll, window shopping and taking in the smells and sounds of the holidays. Shop lights are glowing a warm amber, and people are cradling cups of warm cider or cocoa lovingly in their hands. Wreaths of pine are everywhere; window displays beckon. Mittens and gloves are many; scarves and hats are plentiful. I can see my breath in the air, and I’m walking with someone — but with whom, I’m not sure.

I have no idea where this location is, but I’d like to go there. It’s not chaotic, it’s calm and lovely.

I have no idea who the person is — man or woman — but I’d like to meet them. Clearly we have the same penchant for enchanting scenery and the pull of winter.

I find myself wondering if I’ll ever see this place “in real life,” and — if I do — if something will happen on that gently winding street. Will I get the phonecall of a lifetime, with major news of some sort on the other end? Will it be the place of a marriage proposal? Will it be the place where I have an epiphany about what I want to be when I finally grow up? Will I encounter someone in need of assistance, and will my assistance end up changing not only their life, but mine, as well?

I have no idea where this place is, but I cherish its presence in my mind. Its ability to heighten my sense of awareness is something I’m thankful for — it brings a calm and sort of serenity to my life, in a strange way; the notion that I can experience this place is something I hope comes true. At the end of the day, every moment is valuable, but to experience one that’s danced in the corners of my mind and to have it come to life will be priceless.

Marry-weather.

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It’s been said that you shouldn’t marry the person you can live with, but that you should marry the one you can’t live without.

I think we can add to that, don’t you?

Marry not the person who simply brings something to the table, but who can also bring something to your soul during the times when you both may be down and table-less.

Don’t marry a person because they can support you financially, but instead marry someone who makes you emotionally rich and spiritually wealthy.

Don’t marry someone because they’re good looking — marry someone who looks for the good in every situation.

Don’t marry someone just because they fit into your timeframe — marry someone you know will stand the test of time…even if that union comes ten years after you hoped it would come.

Don’t marry someone because you think your kids will be beautiful — marry them because of their beautiful, child-like sense of wonder and play.

I realize that coming from someone who has never been married, nor close to it, these words may seem odd, misplaced or idealistic. But the latter is a word that I’ll gladly welcome — because if we can’t have our ideal in mind as we look down the road of Forever, what are we really going after?

Tonight I am thankful for knowing that every pot has a lid, and that every squirrel really can find a nut. May we seek that which makes us whole for years to come, that which sustains our union through the good and bad and that which can support us through all kinds of weather — the cold, the icy, the warmth and the hail…the inevitable weather of life.

Blink.

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Life is short, they say.

They’re right.

It seems like just yesterday I had graduated from college, but that was 15 years ago.

Where does the time go?

In the blink of an eye, we grew up, grew older, grew tired of some people and welcomed new ones into our lives.

Sometimes I feel like I grew smarter, more independent, more aware and more focused. Other times I feel like I’m none of these things.

Whenever I talk about music, events or other things from the 90s, it seems like that was maybe five to ten years ago. Nope. Try again. That 1995 was 18 years ago blows my mind. It seems like it can’t be possible, but it is.

Things change in the blink of an eye — things that make us wish we could rewind the clock or that we’d made more memories. A loved one is here one moment and gone the next. A job is in play on Monday but gone by Friday. Trust can be broken in an instant. Cognitive decline happens, even though the better days we remember still feel close enough to reach out and touch.

Yes, life is short and the literal act of blinking is something we can’t avoid. We simply do it, and we do it without thinking. But when it comes to the things in life that matter the most, let us not blink as often as our eyes, and instead pay proper attention to them.

Tonight, for those times in my life that taught me the importance of blinking less, I am thankful.

Home.

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What a week.

I spent Monday in tears at the thought of having to put down my new rescue, Tucker. Red, puffy eyes gave way to a pounding headache that afternoon. At the vet that evening, I took goodbye photos of my brave, young little kitty. I was certain we were at the end.

But wait — what’s this? You want to try a steroid regimen, Mr. Vet? OK. Let’s.

I wised up on Tuesday and skipped most of my eye makeup, being that I had cried it off the day before. I plowed through another box of Kleenex and a few rough paper towels in the restroom. After work I visited Tucker again, and was shocked to find that he was a completely different cat. Feisty, full of fight and with his tiny meow back in action left me stumped, but grateful. His blood draw results showed his bilirubin — previously at 4.3 then 6.4 — was at a 5.1.

On Wednesday my eyes and nose had tissue-induced dry skin flaking all around them, and his bilirubin was back up in the 6.5-range. It looked like the steroids weren’t doing much, but his energy was still up, he was eating again after two weeks of having not, and was still active. The new issue, however? His fang-like chompers are too long or big for his mouth, and his lower lip had teeth wounds developing.

Seriously? How? You’ve been alive for a year and a half. Does this week really need to be the week during which a strange cosmetic-ish dentistry issue pops up?

Long story short, I brought him home tonight. I assumed I’d be visiting him at the vet indefinitely, but I was wrong…fortunately. His bilirubin is down to somewhere in the 3.0 range, although it’s still very high compared to where it should be. He still has his appetite that returned at the vet, and his feasting on almost a full can of cat food at home was proof. I have two medications to administer on a daily basis for the next month, but I’ll take it.

I’ll take it because my little buddy is back in his forever home.

I’ll take it because he’s not at the vet’s office with the sound of strange animals all around him during every hour of the day.

I’ll take it because he’s a fighter, and fighters deserve to have people in their court. I will be in his court for as long as he is part of this life.

Tonight I am thankful for my Tucker, for his fight and spirit, for my veterinarian and his patience, his knowledge and his concern for my pet that he treated as his own. He’s not out of the woods just yet, as he’ll be going back for more blood work on Monday, but he’s home. And home is a great place to recenter, regroup and start over.

Hang on.

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“Hold, please” is something I often say when I’m in the middle of something and someone else needs my attention.

The first time I said it, I simply considered it a polite request. The other person cracked up.

“Did you just tell me to hold?”

In fact I did. I wasn’t sure where the humor was, but clearly there was humor embedded in my short request. Who knew?

It’s a simple line, a line that says we want to help but that we need to finish something else that we consider at least a fraction more important at that moment. It’s a line that says, “This is important, but so are you.” It kindly requests that the person stick around, because before too long you’ll be right with them.

I wish this was a line that could be used without awkwardness when we’re in the middle of a fight, in the middle of some drama, or in the middle of a mess. Picture it:

Angry person: “I am really upset with you!”

You: “Hold, please.”

Wouldn’t it be great to steal the air from an overly inflated situation with such a perfect, apparently humorous line? After all, even in anger or drama, chances are the other person is somewhat imporant to you. If they weren’t, you perhaps wouldn’t be as caught up in the matter at hand.

There’s a lot that can get to us on a daily basis. This person, that person, a fellow motorist, the person on the other end of the phone, a messenger — you name it, our feathers can be ruffled. The next time mine are, I intend to hold. For myself, and for them. To spare myself from saying too much with a sharp tongue, and to spare them from being on the other end of my words.

I’ll hold, they’ll hold, and — in theory — things will proceed in a sane manner.

Asking that someone hold for a moment while we quickly gather our emotions up is a way of asking them to hang on while we don’t make a situation worse, and in the process we’re able to hang on to our dignity. Be thankful for those small moments that allow us to maintain relationships, and to build up and not tear down. Tonight, I am thankful for them all.

What else?

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It’s always something, isn’t it?

If it’s not one ailment, it’s another. If it’s not one bill, it’s another. If it’s not an empty gas tank, it’s a tire that needs air. Or a patch. Or it needs to be replaced entirely.

If it’s not a scale that’s creeping upward, it’s the world’s biggest blemish that’s camped out on your face.

It’s always something, and for me these things tend to clump together at the worst possible times. A giant vet bill was paired with a thyroid biopsy bill was paired with an MRI bill was paired with a massive, summer-induced utility bill.

Anyone else besides me feel like they’re hemorrhaging cash 24/7?

It might always be something, but things happening remind us that we’re, you know, alive.

As frustrating as things can be, it’s an opportunity to budget, budget again and budget a final time. It’s a chance to reevaluate our needs and wants, to prioritize, to be realistic and to still find a way to stash a bit away at the same time.

Tonight I am thankful for the ups and downs, the moola and the mooless times, the budgeting and the dwindling stack of dollars. In everything there is a lesson, and in every lesson there is growth.