Stephanie Says.. Take a walk inside my head

I was, let’s say, eleven or twelve years old.  For some reason, I was with my mother and other ladies from our church.  I don’t remember the conference.  I don’t remember the city.  But I do remember the feeling.  I was embarassed.  I was ashamed.  And I was about to cry.

See, I was just barely too old for the Kid’s Meal at the Wendy’s where we had stopped to eat.  So I got my very first Single Combo (with a Frosty).  I carefully carried my tray over to the condiment/straw/napkin station and *whup*…my first “adult” meal ended up all over the floor.

I was mortified.  I stood, frozen, not sure what to do. 

And then he came over.  I never got his name.  I don’t know how many crying little girls he delt with on a daily basis, but to me he was not just the manager, he was the man who saved my day.  He spoke softly.  He got my mess cleaned up.  And he gave me another meal.  Just like that, for free.

He probably doesn’t remember me.  But I remember him.  And I’m grateful for the people who didn’t have to, but did.

Like my brother.  By the time I was in college, we weren’t that close anymore.  Growing up, we moved several times and had a built in friend in each other.  But I started college when he started high school and we didn’t see each other that much anymore. 

Except, of course, for summers.  By my junior year, I was dating Kenny and often out at the movies or on a picnic or something.  And Clay was off with his band or his girlfriend or his sports teams.  We each had our own phone lines (which came in handy the night my door got stuck and I couldn’t get out of my room, but that’s another story), our own computers, our own lives.

And then came the fight.  Kenny and I fought a lot in those days.  Politics, religion, not complimenting my dress, anything could set me off.  I started most of the fights but Kenny knew how to finish them.  It didn’t take a lot to light my fuse, but it didn’t take much to set off my tears either.  And one night, I was crying and sniffling and very unsure if I was going to have a boyfriend in the morning.

Normally, I would have gone to my room, picked up a book and cried myself to sleep.  That’s what I would have normally done, but I didn’t want to be alone.  So I knocked on Clay’s door (a hallway–and a world–across from my own).  I didn’t expect him to answer, but he did.  He took one look at my face, ended the phone call he was engaged in and ushered me into his room.

We didn’t talk much at all.  What we did was watch an old tape of -Red Sonja-, but it meant the world to me.  I went to bed with tears dried and in the morning, of course, I did have a boyfriend.  It all worked out, but it wouldn’t have been as smooth if not for my brother.

Our Christmas musicals wouldn’t have been as smooth if not for Kenny’s friend Jeff.  A couple of years ago, we wanted to branch out from the traditional Mary, Joseph, doll wrapped in a blanket to represent Baby Jesus.  We had a drama that worked to have both live actors and parts on videotape and Jeff did a great job presenting the flashback scenes.  He simulated airport noises and rental car voices.  The next year, he drove around town to make it look as if the actors were riding in a car.  He and Kenny have big plans for future presentations and I’m sure that as technology progresses, our Christmas musicals will be the highlight of the season.

This past Christmas season was delayed for our household.  The Wednesday before Christmas, Kenny and I were working late.  As usual, Kenny asked what I wanted for supper.  Normally, this question would not be cause for concern, but that day I felt terrible.  I had an upset stomach and just wanted to go home.

Kenny knows my erratic eating habits and we discussed whether or not supper would actually make me feel better.  I was game if he was, so off we went to the Chinese buffet.

Big mistake.  Walking in the door was okay.  Getting my first plateful of food was okay.  Taking my first bite was a disaster.  Kenny got back to the table, took one look at me and knew trouble was coming.  Before he could ask if I felt okay, I was up and to the bathroom.  Before I could even close the door, my dinner (and lunch and breakfast) was all over the floor.

Once again I was at dinner.  In public.  Humiliated. Ashamed.  And crying.

Kenny quickly assured the owners that their food wasn’t to blame.  The mess was cleaned up.  Kenny continued eating.  And I was sipping my tea, getting ahold of myself.

Until the waitress came over.  All she said was “Are you okay?” and the tears started flowing again.  No, not tears, buckets.  I was crying and shaking and very very embarassed. 

The waitress didn’t mind.  She bent over, put her arms around me and began to rock me as if I were a small child.  Stroking my hair, she whispered “It’s okay” like a mantra until I began to believe it -was- going to be okay.

It was, of course.  The owner didn’t charge for my meal, the waitress kept bringing me sweet tea, I spent four days in bed and life went on. 

But she will become part of my story.  I didn’t get her name, but I know her attitude and her heart.  It is kind.  It is loving.  And it makes you believe everything will be okay.

As did Sam Adams.  Yes, his name we got.  We were cold and frustrated and stuck on a ditch when he came along.  It had been raining and snowing and the roads were icy and dangerous.  Our four wheel drive was out and Kenny took the extreme measure of putting me behind the wheel to hit the brake when he told me to.  I was shivering and scared…and silent, which should tell you how scared I was.

We weren’t the only car on the road.  We were just the only car headed for the ditch beside it.  Kenny pushed, Kenny turned the wheels.  Kenny did everything but give up when Sam Adams came along.  He was in a little truck with a little rope.  He was determined to pull us back onto the road even if it meant delaying his trip.

I was still scared, but I was back in the passenger seat and watching them tie the ropes onto the vehicles when Kenny came to the window.  “I think we’ve just met a soldier,” he said.  That made me pay closer attention.  We have great respect for soldiers in our household.  Sure enough, Sam Adams was calling us “sir” and “ma’am”.  He was heading to Fort Knox.  He had a short haircut.  And he couldn’t believe that no one had stopped to help before he did.

We’re not sure how to thank him, really.  We know that the road would have thawed out eventually and we would have gotten home to our cats one way or another.  But we also know that in a way, he saved us.  We didn’t have to spend the night on the side of the road.  We didn’t have to sleep in the cold.  And we didn’t have to stay stranded in a ditch.

He took time out of his travel schedule to help strangers.  The waitress put aside her personal discomfort to hold a shaken girl.  Jeff gave of his time and talent for very little earthly reward.  Clay gave up a night with friends to invite his emotional sister in for a movie.  And the guy at Wendy’s made a weekend of travel so much more than a conference.

They may have not wanted to.

They certainly didn’t have to.

But, oh, I am so glad they did.