A Stranger Changed My World Today

Our world(s) can change in an instant, in the blink of an eye.

My world has seemed pretty good since Sunday night, but in one moment this afternoon I came ear-to-ear with how verbally violent strangers can be.

I had taken a two-day trip to Newark, Delaware, my hometown of 49 years, for an eye doctor appointment, to deliver some large artwork, and to visit with several friends. In terms of meaningful, deep and connecting conversations, this visit seemed exceptional.

I had opportunity for various relaxed and extended conversations with four dear friends I’ve known over forty years. And meaningful conversation with another two people I’ve known about thirty years. And meaningful conversation with one person I’ve known about twenty, and another I’ve known about fifteen years.

The who/what/where/when/why and how of groupings/settings/individuals I interacted with during my past two days in Newark, I am intentionally obscuring. Because the entirety of my times of connecting/refreshing/meaningful exchanges occurred in both my inner personal world, and in the intimate spaces that exist between various friends.

There were face-to-face-over-meal conversations with two different women that I’ve known over forty years that I found very personal and mutually encouraging and connecting. I could summarize just some of the themes/topics that surfaced (inclusive of all conversations with these eight people) as follows, and as sets the stage for the events of this afternoon.

~ Hope ~ Change ~ Being Changed ~ God/scripture ~ Loss/grief ~ Personality ~ Creativity ~ Mistakes ~ Redemption ~ Desires/Goals ~ Life ~ Aging ~ Isolation ~ Well-being ~ Joy ~ Relationships ~ Faithfulness ~ Prayer ~ Work ~ Forgiveness ~ Jesus ~ Weather ~ Worries ~ Fears ~ Aches and Pains ~ Emotion ~ Old mutual memories ~ Family ~ Children ~ Grandchildren ~ Politics ~~ Culture ~ Respect ~ Responsibility ~ Suffering ~ Presence ~ Friendship ~ Ideas ~

It was a beautiful, warm and sunny day as I headed out of Newark. I was only five minutes out when my friend called and said, “you forgot your sweater!” I looped back and got it and said goodbye a second time.

I thought I would stop on Main Street at Newark Camera Shop, thinking there was a chance they carried the special archival cartridges I need for my premium Epson printer. I needed a Photo Black cartridge and would have liked to get the single cartridge quickly without ordering online. Most stores do not carry these, but one of the camera shops I knew years back did.

I actually confused which one and should have gone to Camera’s Etc toward the beginning of Main Street rather than the one toward the end. Any time I’m back in Newark, I have a variety of thoughts and feelings, and though an occasional visit is sweet, I always become anxious to get back to my new home.

One friend has asked more than once recently when I’ve mentioned my isolation and other aspects of being two hours away in Pennsylvania, “Do you regret not coming back to Delaware?” In fact, when I was in Delaware a month ago for a funeral, she asked me that. I remember pondering that in several ways that day, and knowing that, given all things, “Absolutely” I don’t regret not coming back to Delaware.

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As I made my way down Main Street between the congestion/confusion/changes to everything–including parking meters that need an app and card payment–I was searching for a parking spot.

I’m terrible at parallel parking. In part because I can never spot/decide to do it in time to signal in a way that makes someone behind me stop and give me the space/time to do it.

I hate it.

And today, on the left, almost to the end of Main Street, I saw an opening that I thought I might actually be able to reasonably pull/angle into forward–between the two vehicles.

I went for it!

Umm…FAIL.

I was now pulled with my front to the curb and my back angled out just a bit. People were passing around me, and there was an Amazon truck double parked front/right in traffic with flashers on. Suddenly, a woman came out to the vehicle in front of me and got in!

YES, YES, YEEEEESSSSS!–I thought to myself. She’s going to pull out and leave and I can just pull further forward.

But. The Amazon truck. She waited a good five minutes, as did I. I considered trying to get back out, but, I was stuck. Sometimes I amuse myself with funny thoughts about my various driving deficits/idosyncrisies. I waited there a good five or more minutes with my back end partly into the lane. Eventually the Amazon guy came out, moved from being “parked” in the left lane of Main Street, and the lady pulled away and I pulled forward.

The funniest part was that the cars behind me also seemed to exit their space at the same time. It was around this point I texted two friends with the second image of my van on Main Street and to one I said, “I guarantee there is a story behind this parallel parking job” to which the response was, “that doesn’t look like parallel parking!”

Ahhh…it’s Eileen’s unique experience of circuitous parallel parking!

Then, I went to the new-fangled meter, had to log into my app again (I have a new phone since I last used this), and I paid .75 cents for 12 minutes.

Within one minute I was inside Newark Camera (trying to quickly shut off my music that I realized was still playing) and I made some “Sorry!” joke with the guy who was easy-going, “Oh no problem,” after politely saying, “How can I help you?” Any Newark-er can count on those in Newark Camera Shop to be helpful and polite!

I said, “Do you carry cartridges for the Epson 2400 printer?”

He apologized and said, “I’m sorry, we don’t carry any ink cartridges.”

I thanked him, turned right back around (but not without glancing at funny photos of chickens on the wall!) and headed back to the van, likely using 1.75 minutes of my twelve. I was already musing on what I thought could be a funny, short blog piece about this.

I was thinking on two possible titles:

GET ME THE ——-OUT OF NEWARK, DELAWARE!

or

AND I PAID .75 CENTS FOR THAT

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As I headed out of Newark and broke free up 896 North toward the scenic drive home, I was smiling and having playful linguistic fun in my mind.

One thing I’ve been increasingly conscious of since my divorce is backing off letting profanity (or substitutions that might negatively allude/offend) be in my thoughts or expressions. I know that I allowed my increasing anger and difficulty articulating my anger compromise my speech at times in the past several years but as I find myself healing working through many things, I have made a conscious effort to reject those elements. As I shared with one friend on this trip…I want to get back to how I was at other points in my life.

She agreed that was a good thought and aim; and we each could remember the other at much younger points in life. While life inevitably changes us, I think God can re-surface (as in refine) certain roughed-up, scabbed-up, hardened-up places in us. In that conversation, I was speaking of how tender, sweet and many other things I was in college and into my early married life in the 80’s. While the difficulties of life can leave various marks on us and form us in both needful and un-needful ways, I know who I am at my core. I know that the tenderness, the empathetic compassion, the deep thinking, spirituality and God-seeking, has been a constant–despite times of wandering into some places I should not have gone.

Even when marred by ugly at times, in painful places understandably producing anger, despair, and cognitive pathways of self-protection…we can, still, find the life-giving pathways forward.

So, maybe I was over-thinking that humorous title! After playing with various ideas, I settled on:

GET ME THE HEE-HAW OUT OF NEWARK, DELAWARE!

In sixty seconds I imagined a tongue-in-cheek creative piece about my parallel parking job and losing .75 for a seemingly pointless experience!

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Almost an hour up the windy, scenic 896, however, I pulled over to figure out how to open up the sunroof on the Honda. It was glorious….beautiful. The sun was shining, and I was passing Amish working outside.

I was thinking about all kinds of stuff, going over various parts of meaningful conversations. I was feeling hopeful.

I was thinking about how I can always count on the promise of spring to bring me to life.

I was thinking about how particularly difficult this past winter has been for me, and, this past year.

Actually, I had wanted the photo cartridge because…Sunday evening…I experienced a surprising breakthrough with my estranged son, by text, while I was in a church service. I really don’t want to write now about the particular sequence of events…sequence of prayers over the months…nor the sensing to send him a text while sitting in church…nor anything else expect that Sunday evening, my son responded to one part of my message that said, “I would treasure a photo of your hands with the hands of your children.”

I have never asked for a photo of the faces of my grandbabies, because I did not feel that I should ask that of him, considering the situation. All I expressed Sunday night was a short text of my thoughts about my own aging hands, and hands…and that I loved and missed him…and would treasure, basically, just a glimpse of my son’s hands with the babies’ hands.

I was stunned when a half hour later, four photos came through. Not just the hands, but my son, and his partner, with their children. And, a photo of my son’s face with a close-up front view of the twins. My tears flowed the rest of that service and that evening, and I felt hope. I thanked him, and said a few things, and am just leaving it all there at the moment.

So, I wanted to get a cartridge in Newark to print one of the photos and frame it.

These were the types of things I was thinking, as I savored a leisurely drive up 896.

I thought about two clients I needed to get back to, and I was planning in my mind what I might do when I got back, and tomorrow. There were a couple of places I wanted to stop on the way home, just for a little fun and relaxation.

I felt good. I felt like, maybe I’m going to survive all of this. I was taking in beautiful worship music, and feeling God’s presence in a number of ways. Though I still have many struggles, I felt lighter.

Sometimes I would slow up and pass Amish buggies. And I passed Furnace Road, which holds memories for me since it was the original location of BB’s Amish market. The air smelled good and warm as I passed that, remembering taking my young children there years ago, and other friends who lived in that area.

At one point I looked off to my left and saw an Amish man on his plow behind a team of horses. I could smell the pungent smell of horse/cow manure being spread down. The smell excited me–it is the smell of farming, new life, new seasons and, the impending end to hard winter. All winters all hard, some…more than others.

In fact, I noticed I couldn’t drive out of that smell…it was lingering in the air…as I passed other farms and Amish women and children working in their yards.

I thought about what I wanted to do next to prepare my own gardens, and I thought about a young woman whom I am forming a friendship with who reached out to me also, Sunday night, just as I was thinking of her! She wanted to come visit me and hang out, and she’s coming Friday to help me trim my apple trees and grapevine. She helped me some last fall (my son knows her and she lives close to me; I had asked if he knew anyone who could help me, last summer) and we had some good times talking and doing outdoor stuff together, even trading for jelly, eggs, produce and listening to good music together. I like her a lot…and I was thinking about her upcoming visit and also another friend who will visit this weekend.

I was relaxed and just taking it all in…when…a stranger changed my inner world for a portion of today.

I heard my phone ringing and fumbled with it on the seat.

I rarely get calls other than telemarketers, without some pre-planning. Most friends text with me.

I wondered, who could be calling me? I saw that it was a 717 number, and had a tradesperson’s business name. I answered with the speaker and heard a man’s voice.

The voice was not raised but was easy-going…he said, “I see your van all painted up…” and there was a seeming milli-second pause and my thought was, “Oh wow, someone local saw my advertising and is inquiring about some art!”

My heart leapt a bit with an unspoken “thank you, God!” and anticipation…

Then the man, went on…never raising his voice but speaking in a seemingly calm, polite tone:

“You need to get the F**K moving…”

I said, “What?” (uncertain whether I heard what I heard, as it echoed in my internal ears) and he hung up.

I looked up and saw that a vehicle had passed me and was already zooming in the distance.

My eyes glanced down and I was going between 40-45 mph. I typically drive about 1-5 miles under the speed limit in those situations, and I was in no more hurry than Amish buggies today. I’m always careful to pass an Amish buggie…I will slow up and wait, especially when double lines…for as long as it takes to be safe and especially give wide berth to the horse.

I’ve heard some motorists like to cut-off the buggies and startle the horses.

I was stunned.

In fact, I felt like someone had pierced me with their words. I pushed back tears.

It was not lost on me that I had spent a lot of rumination an hour before whether or not I might offend anyone with a title, “GET ME THE HECK OUT OF NEWARK, DELAWARE!”

And that I was having such a lovely and much-needed relaxing, pleasant time of hopeful thinking.

I get it. Many people might be annoyed at my driving. I wasn’t breaking any law, , and I wasn’t going excessively slow. I was just committing the apparent road-sin of taking my good old time.

Many people have passed me on these and other various roads during my years of driving. Sometimes, people will lay on their horn, for whatever reason. Maybe they didn’t like my extra second of hesitation at a four-way stop, or whatever. Sometimes, I’ve made careless errors and I know the horn or dirty look is warranted.

I don’t know what was going on in this man’s world. He could have been late to a job, or in the middle of a divorce. He could have been zooming home to a wife in labor. Who knows.

I’m not sure how long he was behind me, honestly. It’s an admitted weakness…I will notice flowers, cute furniture at curbs, beautiful farmland, Amish children, antique shops and church buildings on that drive way more than I look in my rear view mirror.

What I did see was open road ahead of me. What I didn’t understand is why he had to call me on my cell to use profanity at me, a stranger.

All he knew of me was that I had painted flowers on my van, phone and advertising and “All Kinds of Art By Eileen.”

I was driving within five miles of the speed limit on an open road and he easily passed me. It was a beautiful day.

In a way, I thank God for this experience. It made a much more meaningful blog piece. It made me wonder, have there been times I’ve made a stranger cry by careless words? When I made some of my stops, and stood in line behind an elderly lady who told someone else to go ahead, and “I’m in no hurry…” and I met eyes with her and smiled and she smiled back…it made me think even more good thoughts, ultimately.

We have the power to bless and to curse, or harm, with words. For all I know, this man was a sibling in Christ. For all I know, he was meeting his Pastor for coffee and annoyed he had to be behind some old van with flowers painted on it.

Ironically, I plan to look up the name of his business–which is on my caller ID! Ha. I’m just curious!

I never cried over it, but, I did tear up. And almost immediately I felt Jesus saw that.¹

As I roamed my very favorite Goodwill in Lancaster, looking for a few things I needed…I couldn’t resist browsing the mugs, too. I like to remember trips with a little something, and one can never have too many mugs.

The first one my eye was drawn to seemed just perfect.

I stopped and got Chinese food to take home, and of course, I’m always curious about the fortune cookie! Even though I’m not superstitious, I believe Jesus knows I like those little curious statements!

Jesus can do whatever He wants. If he wants to make me get a fortune cookie that I think is about me, he can do that!

I was wondering, after this afternoon, what I might find! I opened it…and…it was…EMPTY!

Of course…I Googled to find out what that meant!

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¹“Imagination Jesus’ ” beard was flying out my sunroof…and…I looked over at Him with raised eyebrow and he’s like “Whoah…that guy needs some Peace, man!”)