Relationships

I was lying in bed this morning thinking about my old days at DeVry Institute of Technology and how much I love working on electronics. I was a faculty assistant while I was going to school. I remember when they were tearing down the upstairs lab to turn it into another classroom. DeVry decided to make the oscilloscopes available for students to purchase at a somewhat affordable price. Being a faculty assistant, I got first shot. The instructor that I worked for helped me choose the best one. It became the mainstay for my home lab along with some equipment I had purchased at the monthly sidewalk sale under the bridge in Dallas, affectionately referred to as “First Saturday.”

A DeVry analog and digital trainer consisting of a function generator, an AC power supply, and a variable and fixed (5 and 12 volt) DC power supply, became part of the lab that I had set up in my bedroom, along with numerous breadboards and a container holding various diodes, transistors, resistors, IC chips, LEDs, and capacitors. I also had a soldering iron and solder sucker I kept handy. I absolutely loved designing circuits on my bread boards and building projects. I spent many wonderful hours at DeVry learning my trade. It served me well, because I went on to work at a job as a test engineer for many years and I always said “I can’t believe they pay me to come into work to have so much fun!”

That was several years ago and my life has taken many turns since then. I married a wonderful man and raised an amazing son while doing many different things including teaching English as a Second Language at the adult education center in my community, getting my master’s degree, and teaching as an adjunct professor at Dallas Christian College, while starting a small business selling portable trail obstacles for horses.

 I had a fantastic run indulging in my favorite past time – horses. I have been blessed with several wonderful equine partners over the years. Time, distance, and the busyness of life has caused my ability to participate to fade. I still ride but instead of three or four times a week, it’s been three or four times a year.

More seasons: In the last few years, I have devoted myself to writing. I started a writers group called the Carrollton League of Writers, going on three years now, and have been blessed with so many lovely friendships through it. I am in the midst of revising a 94,000-word science fiction novel that I hope to publish by year’s end. I have also taken up my husband’s passion of bicycling and we try to ride our bikes several times a week.

Most recently, I have embarked on a new career path working in Information Technology as a Quality Assurance lead. As I lay in bed this morning, I felt nostalgia for and a strong desire to reignite my passion for electronics. But then I realized that God has given me many wonderful seasons and that my electronics time was a special season for me to enjoy, but not necessarily something to return to, or at least not to devote a tremendous amount of time to it.

God will always have something for me. What a blessing to know that He will continue to bring new things into my life, not to replace my previous passions, but to bless me with new experiences – new seasons.

My thoughts then went a step further. I think I was reminiscing about DeVry because a dear friend, the instructor I mentioned earlier, went to be with Jesus last month. It’s particularly hard to think about because he was also my husband’s closest friend and his passing was so unexpected. As I thought about him, and became teary-eyed, I realized that as the years go on, this was going to continue to happen, because it is a part of life. While our souls are eternal, our bodies are perishing, and we will be saying goodbye to many friends eventually. In the last six months, we’ve said goodbye to four dear friends and I find my grief coming out in patches, as special reminders of them occur randomly in my life.

But God told me something about that, just as He did about the areas of passion I described earlier that I’m no longer able to do. While I’ll always treasure the memories I have of my friends and look forward to reuniting with them one day in heaven, God is also bringing new people into my life, not to replace them because they will always have a special place in my heart, but because He loves us so much. Just as He’s bringing me new things to do, He’s also bringing me new friends. It reminds me of a childhood song we used to sing in Girl Scouts – Make new friends, but keep the old…one is silver and the other gold.

I thank God for both the new seasons in my life to look forward to, and the previous seasons to remember and cherish. I also thank God for the new friends He has been bringing into my life. It doesn’t make saying goodbye to those I love any easier, but it does bring comfort and hope for the future.   

Imagine getting ready for work early in the morning after a restless night. Not many people are able to sleep well when constantly being inundated by news of the corona virus. As an essential worker in a grocery store, a typical day will most likely include being asked to work a ten to twelve hour shift because of the shortage of employees. Some co-workers are sick, others have quit due to fear of exposure to the virus, and the need for cleaning and disinfecting has created even more labor. In the past you looked forward to going to work. You enjoyed the opportunity to serve the public and liked your job. While working retail can be tough, especially when dealing with cranky customers, it gives you a sense of satisfaction knowing you are contributing to your community by providing a needed service.

It has been said that difficult times bring out the best and the worst in people. Unfortunately, during the corona virus pandemic, often grocery store workers must bear the brunt of the worst. I spent about fifteen minutes yesterday speaking on the phone with a manager of one of our local grocery stores. Before I was able to speak to him, I spoke to the person who answered the phone, and asked to speak to the manager. She inquired as to whether I wanted to speak to the hiring manager, who was in their store in response to the worker shortage. I told her no, I wanted to speak to the regular manager. I wanted to express my appreciation to all of the employees for their hard work and their willingness to serve our community. I told her that having worked in retail, I knew that when people are under stress they are often not every nice and I wanted to make sure the employees know how much they are appreciated.

She replied, “I just got goosebumps. Nobody has been nice all week. I can’t tell you how much this means to us.”

The young lady got the manager on the phone and during our ten minute chat I learned of several things:

Many employees were scared, but coming to work anyway.

Some employees were not coming to work, causing a short staffing situation and extra work for those who did.

The number of customers that have been nice or understanding were less than he could count on one hand. He tried his best to encourage his associates but it was really hard because of customers complaining over things of which the employees had no control over.

I told him we were regular customers and so grateful for his service and that of his employees. I shared with him that my husband has asthma and hypertension in addition to being over sixty,  so we were not leaving the house since he is in multiple high risk groups. It was because of his workers that we could safely get our groceries by utilizing their pickup and delivery options. This manager, who was struggling to keep his store associates encouraged, shared with me that he also has asthma (which puts him in the high risk group). He told me he continued to work because he believed it was better to give than to receive. His words humbled me. They should humble you, too. In parting, I expressed how I was looking forward to the day, in the not too distant future, when we could see him and thank him in person.

I would like to ask you to look beyond the inconvenience of empty shelves and long lines, and instead view these workers through a lens of gratitude. I also challenge you to take that gratitude a step further and act upon it. That looks different for different people – but we can all participate in some way. It may be simply by including these folks in your prayers. It may be telling workers when you see them how much you appreciate what they are doing. You can have patience and understanding when they are out of what you wanted. Perhaps it is a phone call to say a quick thanks. You could even do something more tangible – I found these cards on Amazon. I asked the manager how many employees he had and I ordered enough for all of them and had them sent directly to the store.

These courageous folks are making a difference every day by going to work to meet the needs of our communities. How can we make a difference for them?

Image credits: Alexas_Fotos and Squirrel_photos

Flash Fiction by Nancy Golden

Photo Credit: Image by Wendy Corniquet from Pixabay

The sweat dripped off Mugwaneza’s forehead and into his eyes as he lugged the jerry can filled with water behind his back. His spindly arms used to shake when he first started his daily four-mile journey, but he had grown stronger this past year. Now, only in the last mile, did his arms start to tremble. He tried to force his tired legs to move faster so he would have time to study. The sun was already low in the sky, and if he didn’t reach his family’s home in time, it would be too dark to see his schoolbook.

He crushed the thought in the back of his mind that he might run into Nzobatinya today. It didn’t happen very often, but when it did, it was terrible. He couldn’t understand the hatred in the other boy’s expression. The sorrow from the genocide that happened before Mugwaneza was born never seemed to completely disappear from his mother’s eyes, but this boy didn’t even know him. Why did he hate him so much?

As if reading his thoughts, Nzobatinya emerged from a stand of brush and, putting down his water container, picked up a rock from the ground. Giving an angry yell, he hurled it at Mugwaneza, catching him completely off guard and causing him to drop his own container. The stone struck Mugwaneza’s forehead, and the beads of sweat now mingled with blood oozing from the gash. He watched in shock as the precious water leaked out of his jerry can. He touched his forehead with his hand and looked down to see the blood splayed across his fingers. Instinct took over, and he dived for the container and set it upright. A quick examination revealed that about a quarter of the water had leaked out. He was still a mile away from home and the sun was rapidly descending—no time to safely return to the watering hole before the evening predators emerged. He looked around and sighed. Nzobatinya was gone, and Mugwaneza’s family would have to be extra careful about rationing their water today.

The following day, Mugwaneza began his usual afternoon trek for water. He dreamed of going to university someday, and that dream occupied his thoughts as he trudged along. The watering hole was a few hundred yards away, and as he approached a particularly brushy spot on his route, a high-pitched scream abruptly brought him back to reality. Still carrying his empty jerry can, all of his senses went on high alert as he peered into the brush, trying to determine the source of the cry.

Creeping forward, Mugwaneza could see Nzobatinya on his hands and knees about ten yards away, frozen in fear. He followed the other boy’s gaze and could barely discern the shape of a lion crouching, its tawny coat blending in with the brush. The lion’s fierce stare was intent on Nzobatinya, its body taut, ready to pounce.

Mugwaneza started sweating profusely. The foul taste of fear soured his lips, and his stomach spasmed as his throat closed. He had heard his parents talking about the government reintroducing lions in Rwanda, but this was the first one he had encountered. He tried to swallow as he considered his next move. Fear was trying to freeze him. It was gaining ground. He reached up and touched the scab where his forehead was still healing from the stone Nzobatinya had thrown. He heard a low growl and watched as the lion, eyes riveted on Nzobatinya, started to slink forward.

The oxygen was sucked out of the air, and Mugwaneza couldn’t hear anything except the rushing wind in his ears. He grasped his jerry can tightly and leapt forward, running toward Nzobatinya and the lion, waving the container like a lunatic. He shouted as loudly as his lungs would permit and glared at the lion with a rage he had no idea he possessed.

The lion stopped and returned Mugwaneza’s glare. From a predator’s point of view, the two-legged creature’s actions were incomprehensible. Prey should either be frozen in fear or should run, including lesser predators who qualified as prey. The audacity of Mugwaneza’s efforts made the lion pause, but not for long. Turning away from his original target, the lion pinpointed his new victim and roared. He dashed forward and met Mugwaneza head-on—knocking him to the ground. The lion bared his monstrous incisors and extended his claws to savagely maul Mugwaneza’s helpless body, but was flung off-balance. Nzobatinya, forgotten when the lion attacked Mugwaneza, jumped onto the lion’s back, screaming and pounding the fierce predator with his small fists. The lion whipped his head around in a frenzy, throwing Nzobatinya off and biting at both boys, inflicting painful gashes with his sharp teeth. The boys continued their noisy attack. Mugwaneza used his jerry can to deflect the lethal teeth as much as possible, and Nzobatinya found a piece of deadwood on the ground and began beating the lion with it. Suddenly, the lion stepped back from the fray, shaking its great head. It gave one final roar and then turned, disappearing into the brush.

Mugwaneza fell back on the ground, exhausted. Their wounds were deep, but amazingly none were life-threatening. Both boys were covered with them, and the amount of blood seeping from their injuries was unsettling. Trying to calm his breathing, Mugwaneza stared up at the sky when as a blood-soaked hand came into view. He reached up and grasped the hand of Nzobatinya, who helped him to his feet. Nzobatinya didn’t release his grip. Instead, he stared at their intermingling blood with a somber fascination. Finally, he looked directly at Mugwaneza.

“Why did you save me?”

“How could I not?”

Nzobatinya stood a long time, not letting go. He suddenly pressed Mugwaneza’s bloodied hand to his own face. Tears began to mix with blood. Staggering into each other, they embraced. Tears mingled with tears and blood mingled with blood, falling to the ground as one.