Living-Deliberately.com

I was thinking today of how heroic it is when someone loves another based on what makes the reciever feel loved, rather than just how the giver likes to love.

More than the “martyr” giver, who is generous and giving because of the reward they feel when they do, there is the self-less giver, the one who finds out what the other needs to feel loved and then seeks to meet it.

Yesterday my dad was out in my car…and along the way he decided to change my wiper blades, have my transmission fluid adjusted, and called to see what kind of latte he’d like me to bring home. Little kindnesses that took my breath away really….we are in the midst of a very stressful time, with lots of waves and emotions and wounds that need healing. To say he’s our “steady” is putting it mildly. In a family made up mostly of women, he finds the love language of each, and learns to speak it.

It’s the determined learning that speaks the loudest to me. In getting to know someone, we may clash. We may not understand or know how to relate. It certainly can be difficult when trying to live in community with others. Listening, and thus really *hearing*, is critical, but I’d wager gets skipped most of the time. (That another of his motto’s is “don’t skip a step” seems not unrelated). So he listens and watches and waits for the right moment….sometimes it’s a free detail thrown into a contracted deal. Sometimes it’s a hug and listening to the vent (rather than engaging point by point or by handing out ill timed advice). Sometimes it’s in fixing something that has been broken or by inventing a new gadget to make life easier.

Humans don’t always feel like giving so I don’t imagine that real self-less type givers always *feel* like doing this.  (I say, ‘imagine’ because even though I’m a mother, and mothers famously give, I honestly wonder how much of what I do is truly self-less). It’s a challenge to give in a way that requires effort or learning outside of one’s comfort zone. I think we are partly selfish for survival…children aren’t exactly self-less, and once wounded, it’s difficult to make oneself not self-protect. Giving requires openness.

And that’s why I think real giving is heroic. The giver has to be willing to be hurt. Rejected. Has to care more about meeting the other’s need, even if that means absence or uncomfortable listening or pain. Somewhere in there is keeping the big picture in mind rather than getting caught in a moment and communicating trust and commitment that surpasses imperfection.

I’ve recently had lots of bank exposure. I have my little bank in my former town and it’s branch, closer into the city. I have a few different kinds of online accounts and frequently spend time getting all the accounts to work together, to transfer money where it needs to go and when necessary, make it either more accessible or less. I traveled a lot last month and kept an eye out for a bank, other than the giant Bank of America, that would have locations in all of the places I was. That is no small feat! Many states, many towns…I knew I was likely going to open yet another account so that I could have local check cashing, in my new locality. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

But there was  bright green sign that kept catching my eye. True, true it’s my favorite color: bright green. And, true, true, there was a branch location in every single town I visited. I’d decided to go with them just upon that.

Then came the day I walked in. I wasn’t enthusiastic. It was lunch time. I had all four kids with me. Going into a bank is usually quiet and echo-ey and I get “looks” from navy-clad professionals who look like they’re biding their time until lunch…or 4:30…wherever it is in the day. Lines are always long. Kids are always antsy. Waiting for the paperwork process is a pain the butt.

The *very second* I walked in, two bank employees got up and welcomed me. They did not get weird expressions of dread when they saw four children walk in with me. Across from the waiting area was a plate of fresh cookies and coffee. On every table and test was a big bowl of giant gumballs. I told them that I wanted to open a new account and within seconds I was sitting down across from a guy who seemed genuinely interested in doing this aspect of his job today. Right away they both expressed that they understood I didn’t want this to take a long time and that they’d do all they could to help me get it done and on my way.

He helped me open the account; she got my children washable markers and paper to color, and cookies and napkins. It was fast. It was easy. After he introduced me to the tellers I’d likely be working with, I left happy. Even after cookie crumbs and gumball drool, they still did not seem at all fazed or exhausted that some woman brought her four busy-bodies in. In many other businesses, that would have gotten me looks of fatigue, stress, dread, and the unique, “eewwww…..your kid just got goo on my desk…thanks for making my day even harder.”

Two days later I got a hand written thank you card from him, well written and with a phone number included, should I have any questions. My debit card also came, already pinned. We did that in the office, which was groovy because I loathe waiting weeks to get my card and then more days later to get my pin separately, and then have to relearn yet another number. It was great to choose my own ahead of time.

That day I went to the drive in teller. They asked me first if I wanted the kids to have lollipops. And I got a service call, just to check to see if I was indeed happy with my Region’s Bank experience.

The day after that I walked in alone, to get some paperwork notarized. The same employeed recognized me, noticed I didn’t have my kids, and asked me how they were doing. She described their cuteness to the employee she took me to, so that I could get my needs met. At this point, I was feeling a little guilty I hadn’t spent the same amount of effort to learn their names!

You know that point where they say, “Is there anything else I can help you with today?” I think it’s been a long time since I felt like the person asking it was genuinely interested in doing more than the bare minimum. It occurred to me that these Regions folks actually like their jobs! They enjoy their days there! And it shows in how they deal with people.

Two nights after that I got a call from a hired-survey center. The deal was to answer a series of questions using a scale from 1-5; 5 being the highest. I gave Regions a straight “5″. Yes, they made me feel like my buisness was important to them. Yes, they made me feel like I was a person, and not just business. Yes, they seemed to sincerly want to help. Yes, they greeted me right away (don’t you hate walking into a place where no one will make eye contact with you?). And on and on.

It seems a little odd to be so excited about something like a bank these days. I think it’s bigger than that though. This company has obviously given some thought to branding and the new generation, which uses conversational marketing and the relational economy to stand out in their field of competitors. They aren’t striving for the status quo, which would probably still give them a successful bank business. They seem to want more than that. They intuitively understand the connectivity this day and age is seeking. Their sincerity shows. They are indeed, Living Deliberately.

It’s refreshing, in the most spring-green of ways, to not have to dread a regular chore in my routine. Going to the bank is a happy spot in my day…not just for my kids, who know they’ll get free lollipops, but for their Mom too, who won’t be treated as if she were just another faceless customer handing over her hard-earned money. So a big THANKS to Regions Bank, and in return, here’s the biggest personal referral I can offer!

Two days ago I was in the drug store and while I was paying for my stuff the kids were on the nearby toy aisle checking out water guns. I bent down to pick up “the baby” and at his feet lay a crisp, brand new $100 dollar bill.

I scooped it up and looked around. Could we use it? My first thought was that with cash, if you go up to someone and say, “excuse me…did you happen to loose $100?” there is no way to really know for sure if they’d tell the truth. We recently have been very graciously given gifts of support to help us through our time in the hospital and my next thought was that maybe this was some kind of heavenly blessing.

I turned to gather the rest of the kids and when I did so, I saw a clerk crying in the corner. Another clerk was walking nearby with her head down, as if she was looking for something. I felt like heaven had given me a different kind of blessing.

“Excuse me…are you looking for something?” I asked.

She hesitated but then said “yes”.

“Was it money?”

“Yes…we lost something from our cash drawer and we have to pay it ourselves if we can’t find it.”

“Is it this?” I asked, taking out the bill and showing it to her.

What followed was more tears and sighs of relief and thank-yous. I felt soooo good that I knew with confidence that this belonged to them and actually speaking up about it had saved them grief; around here, especially for store-clerk earners, that amount of money is a big deal. I left with a good feeling; a better one than just finding a large bill on the ground and wondering who it really belonged to would have given.

Today in the mail an envelope came. A Random Act of Kindness with the line, I think from the movie pay it Forward, saying, “A Random Act of Kindness is it’s own reward. When you have the opportunity- pay it forward.” The amount inside the card? One hundred dollars. The giver? A dear reader who joins so many of you others, who have expressed encouragement, support, mailed stuffed monkeys, passed me gift cards for coffee, listened to my processing thoughts, prayed for us, sent coloring books and pictures, and overall, have just been there for us in ways I could have never imagined.  A huge THANKS to all, from our family, and most especially Wheaton, who doesn’t feel alone.

And so “pay it forward” we shall. May the circle be unbroken.

Starbucks.  I go for a morning walk, a dose of fresh air, and to see people with other things than the hospital world on their minds. Sometimes I feel an urge to chat while ordering…which usually means I’ll start rambling in the middle of their busiest time of the day when they likely are not even interested, which gee-golly only leads to looks of pity and amusement (ask me how I know).  So I enter quietly, and get a paper and order a coffee. I wonder if they wonder about the faces they see every day…the students, the workforce…or the faces they see for a time and then vanish…the parents of sick children down the street, here for just awhile.

Today the girl who has made me a daily cup every day for almost a week (except for the day I tried to skip the strong stuff for weaker hospital fare, which took 4 freakin’ cups just to get the same effect) gave me what I thought was a knowing, slighly wary and empathetic smile that yes, it’s a new week and I’m still here. After all, I’m clearly not a student or a commuter. But my reaction was to think I’d imagined it and I went ahead with my quiet order. When I got back to our room I noticed this little smiley face and wondered again if they wonder….

Yesterday’s actually….

It was a l-o-n-g day: a 5 am consult with anesthesia, lots of fantastic visitors, surgery, an unexpected diagnosis (and subsequent life adjustment), the news of staying a lot longer rather than going home that day as expected, a very, very traumatic proceedure at the end of the day, a room move…. it was the most exhausting of our stay this time so far.

When I went into the bathroom in our new room I glanced over at the towel rack.  There were two perfectly lined up bath towels and a washcloth draped with precision on the diagonal. I sat there kind of stunned for a few moments…thinking of the likely-overlooked and under-appreciated housekeeping staffer who took a moment of her time and made something pretty. She took a glance and made something ordinary…shine. And though I never saw her and have no way to thank her, she made a difference at the end of a day that was full of intentional kindness, life changes, and stressful hours.