It's a Sign

I believe in signs. I believe if I just wait...something will show me if my direction is correct. There is little in this life of mine that does not surprise me. While others, so cynical, seem surprised by next to nothing, I am constantly surprised, constantly snapped awake by something I was not expecting. Being this way has the mostly lovely moments and a few well, not so lovely moments. I have been called naive, but I do not think I am. I think I am merely avoiding a pit fall of having been on earth a little longer than some. My little surprises allows for miracles, it allows me to believe the best in people even when their worst is all that shows. Last week a little girl, a college student came up to the counter. I had seen her previously and she had been frustrated, angry and upset. Working with money, I get it. It would seem to them as though I held all the cards, but my reality is I have little power over what happens to their financial aid. She looked at me the first time she saw me as if I were the enemy. I assured her the best way I knew how that I was only there to help her. My intent every day is to acknowledge those students, see them in real terms, research the problem and try my level best to solve it, if I can. My heart went out to her. She felt it, but at the time she was still so upset she could only stand in front of me with her face twisted in frustration. I promised to do my best, and I gave her everything I had to give in that moment. It is all I have. As she approached the counter the second time days later, she smiled a sheepish smile. She gingerly approached me as I wore my glasses on my nose to be able to see her face more clearly. "I just wanted to apologize. I know this is not your fault. I had to come here and tell you that I am very sorry if I was mean to you. I know you are helping me." I looked at this girl, barely out of her childhood, "I know. You do not have to apologize, I feel you to my bones. I know you are frustrated. It's money you count on for your future, I get it. I try not to take any of this personally. I know this is not about me. Thank you for coming here." Again she smiled and said, "I just wanted to you to know." I was surprised she came back to apologize, not because she isn't a decent person, and not because I have become so cynical I didn't think she would ever do it, but because I really didn't think she owed me an apology. I didn't take it personally. I knew how frightened she was. I have felt that exact same anxiety wondering how I was going to pay for school. I was surprised because if I have learned anything in my nearly 49 years it is to expect as little as possible, just so I can keep my little surprises. Years ago there were all these little bookmarks with puppies and kitties and whatever small fuzzy they could print and the words read, "Expect nothing and you shall never be disappointed." My first thought was, "that sounds awful". I suppose if I expect nothing then it is true whatever happens, I will not have my anticipation met with disappointment. But I tell you, sometimes it is the anticipation that is the best for me. The reality of the results of what shows up, is what it is, but the waiting, the joyous ideas that come from not knowing, sometimes for me that is what is most fun. That crazy, heart thumping, nervous energy I have right before something happens, is the space where I dream the most. "What if something wonderful happens?" I am not sure why, but whenever I am in that happy place of wonder, there are some who feel the need to pop my balloon and remind that life is crap. I look at every person who does this the same way, as if I am certain they are the ones telling small children Santa does not exist. (He does, I have met him). Most of the time, I like to see where things are headed, but I am willing to wait. Recently, with my life with Michael hanging in the balance, I want answers. I want concrete guarantees that we will be together forever. Of course, no such thing exists in our reality. We only have what information we have garnered and the faith that we will survive this. Friday, I saw something wonderful. We have lived in this house for almost two years, and I had never seen what I saw Friday. I was walking toward the mailbox, as I have a million times before, when a bright yellow object caught my eye. Daffodils had sprung up during our Houston winter, and torrential rain storms. Bright yellow, brilliant orange daffodils were growing where there was once only weeds. We had not planted them. I had seen scraggly looking stalks, but until this year I had never seen any of them bloom. I have spoken to no one about the little miracle in my front yard. My son seeing me happy, seeing me smile and begin to dream again captured it in film. The black and white background is exactly how Michael and I have been feeling as of late. The joyous little flower is our hope for our future, so brightly colored, so wonderfully small, yet strong in the elements that are pounding the poor thing this winter season. Michael and I are in a winter of sorts, but we know we will be alright. Spring is coming. The lessons are being learned as I write this. We are prepared for the worst and still hoping for the best. I asked for a sign. What I got were flowers. I'll take it. I was surprised that anyone was listening.