Sunday, May 20, 2012
I was standing by the elevator in the basement of the hospital where I work. A male worker, a black man, was also going upstairs and he introduced himself to me, saying he had seen me around and wondered what I was doing. I told him my name and my job - intern. He asked me if I was called "Sister," in reference to the Catholic hospital we found ourselves in.
Oh no, I assured him. I'm on the other team. To my surprise, he asked if I was a Christian. I was totally confused. No, I told him. I'm a Jew. A Jew, he replied - you don' t look Jewish.
Well, I do look Jewish, and why would the "other team" be Christians? I figured out from this that Catholics and Christians are not the same, even though I always thought they were. More like similar than the same. But what a surprise to me that I was clueless about all the schisms within the Church.
I just thought it was us Jews who didn't get along. Now I know it's everybody. How reassuring!
Monday, May 7, 2012
The Sketchers sneakers I bought to combat my feet problems get a lot of attention. Case in point: the woman behind the bakery counter. She asked about them, and then the next think I know, I've got my shoe off and I'm showing her my insert and telling her where I got them and what shoes she should buy. It was like instant comrades - sisters in shared pain.
Kinda like when a group of women who have experienced childbirth get together and the next thing you know, you're comparing labor stories. It creates that village feeling - like we're all one group of people living shared lives and experiences. We're all not so different from each other.
Especially when it comes to pain.
Friday, May 4, 2012
When I got home, I felt like a cripple. I took off my shoes, limped around the house, ate dinner, and then took the kids to the library. I dropped them off at home and went on to the shoe discount warehouse for what I considered a marathon shoe selection process.
When I got there, I fell upon the first saleswoman I saw and begged her for help. I told her I needed orthopedic shoes, and that I was in pain. She took me right away to the one row that has something of that sort - and helped me try on several pairs until being called elsewhere.
I sat down and thought about what just happened. This young girl basically took me by the hand and helped me. No commission, no job promotion. The concept of a warehouse is that you're on your own. She did more than her job, and with such kindness and consideration. I found a pair of shoes after she was gone, but it was through her help in what to look for.
A second saleswoman took over and found me another pair. I just couldn't believe how sweet they both were. They cared. When I checked out, I told the counter women that I was amazed at how wonderful and caring the staff is. She told me it was nice to hear it.
Look for the good, friends. It's all that matters.