Skip to main content

Our Civic Duty

I'm really grateful that our move to Michigan has provided us with a lot of things (some new challenges as well), but I think I'm most grateful for the opportunity to serve.  I felt so isolated and lonely back in PA with little to no interaction with anyone that I didn't pay (hairdresser, house cleaner, doctor) that it really messed with my sense of self-worth.  I feel like now I'm able to be my old self, and it's a relief to say the least.

Last Monday, John and I were out for our Monday night dinner at Texas Roadhouse.  Really, it has become our thing to do, and it's never even a question.  I completely associate the experience with Hannah's mission emails because they always arrived while we were there, and I would read them out loud to John while we waited for our Oven-Roasted Barbecue Chicken (John) and salmon (me).  It brings up seriously happy feelings.  I got a phone call from our Primary president, Julie Gibb, who was one of the first people in the ward to get to know me (we were visiting teaching companions).  She's a lot to handle at one time (or for a morning visiting teaching) because she's a "I walked on the moon" kind of person, never to be outdone in stories or life experiences.  However, I can't help but have tender feelings towards her because she was my first friend here.  I couldn't imagine why she was calling me, so I picked up (something I don't usually do during dinner).  She was in tears, because her husband was gone, and her dryer was broken, and her daughter, one of our Laurels, couldn't bring cookies to the YW activity that week because she had too much to do to help out with her family, and with school work, and a million other things.  And in sad form, our YW's president had lectured Julie about not teaching her Laurel responsibility.  So she was calling to ask if I would just "love" on her daughter, because she didn't feel like she was getting it from the YW president.  Sad, huh?

However, I offered to come over that evening and help her with whatever she needed.  Getting kids in bed, cleaning, whatever, and while doing so, John told me to tell her that he would come over and look at her dryer (despite John having some pretty terrible things happening in his work life).  So, we drove straight over.  I put Julie to bed, did her dishes, swept her floor, helped her daughter make eggs for dinner, and was John's assistant handyman.  I kid you not, John had the dryer fixed within an hour, and I told her that I would have dinner for her the next day.

The next day, John was home for the day (one of those aforementioned challenges), so we headed out to do our exercise.  It was the first snow of the season, and the bridges along our path were all still slick.  Like, you know when you gingerly walk on ice, hoping you won't slip?  That's what it was like.  The path itself, on hard ground, was clear of snow though.  So, I was almost done with seven miles, and John was running back to find me after having already gone to the car, driven home for his driver's license, parked the car again and found me on the path.  Yep, what was I just saying about self-worth? ;-)

As he approached me, his gaze was quickly diverted behind me, and he said, "Are you okay?"  I took my headphones out because I wasn't sure what was going on.  I turned around to follow John, and saw that he was helping a bicyclist right his bike.  The guy was on a road bike (the kind with the super skinny tires) and when trying to go around us, too fast, on a curve, his bike slid out from under him and he went, chest-first, into one of the bridge fence posts.  He had the wind knocked out of him. I picked up the bike, and John helped him up, but then noticed that there was blood.  Lots of it.  Turns out, his chin must have gone into the bridge post too because he had a gash that went the whole length of his chin and the fascia was showing through.  Ugh...

He was a bit shocked judging by the fact that he just let us completely tell him what to do.  John ran back for the car and brought it to a closer parking lot where we loaded the bike and the bicyclist into the car and rushed him to the closest urgent care.  We knew he wasn't thinking very clearly when he thought he could just ride home afterwards, in the snow, into Ann Arbor,  instead of just calling his wife for a ride back...

We never caught his name, but it was good to help someone.  I honestly wish I had snuck a picture of the blood running down his neck, and down his hand that was holding the bottom half of the chin flesh to the top, but I was a bit busy :-)

By this time, John and I were running a bit late.  We were hoping to be at the local voting station before the noon rush, but it was 11:45.  We decided to stop by and just see how the lines were moving.  Thankfully, our little podunk township hall was almost completely empty, so we cast our votes (and were sad to see that Michigan did in fact legalize recreational marijuana).

And how nice that they passed out patriotic Tootsie Rolls!
In the old days back in PA, John and I would always go out to lunch on his days off, so we decided to do that again.  However, that put us a little behind in the "let's take dinner to the Gibbs" department, so it was a mad rush to the grocery store.

I would like to say that despite having our HelloFresh meals delivered once a week, I am still a boss in the kitchen.  In two hours, I made three pork tenderloins, six cups of brown rice, a loaf of Irish soda bread, 32 chocolate chip cookies (I kept two for John and me), roasted several cups of potatoes, cooked a couple of boxes of frozen carrots and threw in a tub of red grapes.  If that isn't a feast, I don't know WHAT is??  And of course I had to wrap the loaf in waxed paper tied with twine...which I had to dig out of my Christmas decorations...which I had to pull out of the abyss that is our Christmas closet....

In the end though, with nothing really planned for the day, it felt good to be working side by side with my honey to make the world a little bit of a better place.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Like Dominos....

It all began with glare.  Simple, obnoxious, I-can't-stand-it-anymore glare. Our 60" rear projection TV in the family room was basically unviewable except after 10 o'clock at night.  The glare from the windows was making it impossible to see anything during my 10 minute lunch break each day, and something had to change. Too, the TV didn't fit in the entertainment center from Germany.  John, wanting bigger and better, hadn't considered that the space is only 40" wide.  For the past five years, I have been nagged by 6" of overhang on both sides of the TV stand. I went to Lowe's to price blinds.  $1,043 for five blinds, and that was at 20% off. I figured a new TV would be cheaper than that.  I was right, even with the state-of-the-art receiver and new HDMI cables that sly salesman told us we needed to have. But where to put the old TV?  It just needed a quiet, dark place to retire. Glo's bedroom.  Her TV was a relic from the paleoneoneand...

The Quest for Birkenstocks

One of the main reasons I go to Germany every couple of years is to restock my supply of Birkenstocks.  I started buying them when I lived there, and I basically can't live without them now.  It just about kills me when a pair runs its course and needs to be thrown away.  I think in my lifetime, I've thrown away only three pairs.  One that never was quite right (the straps were plastic and would cut into my skin after a long day), one pair that I wore gardening one too many times (the brown dirt stains wouldn't come out of the white leather), and the pair that I was wearing when I broke my ankle (they were an unfortunate casualty of broken ankle PTSD because those purple and blue paisleys go down as one of my favorite pairs of all time).  I only threw out the garden ones a couple of days before I left for Germany, because I knew I would be getting a new pair. The only store where I have ever bought my Birkenstocks is Hoffmann's in Speicher.  (Well okay, t...

Thinking Beyond Ourselves

In our church, most adults hold a “calling”.  What this really means is they have a job, or a specific way to serve within the local congregation.  We believe that this calling is inspired from God—it’s a specific way that he wants us to serve, so that we can either learn and grow ourselves, or so that we can help someone else. I have had more callings in the church than I can count, and with few exceptions, I have loved every one of them.  I have come to love people (adults, teens and kids) who I might never have met.  I have learned much--from how to organize a Christmas music program, to how to make a Sunday School lesson meaningful to apathetic teenagers.  I have served as president of the children’s organization, and I have been the leader of 30 young, single adults. With every calling comes a lot of work.  Of course, the amount of work one puts into a calling is up to an individual.  I choose to put everything into a calling.  I give up ho...