rodeokitchen

Thank You for your patience. Over the past year, you have helped me gain confidence, as I struggle with mobility. Did you ever notice what was happening right under your nose? I’m forever nervous my hands won’t respond to my brain. Soon my words begin to fall out tangled like spaghetti. I repeat myself, I stutter. Once, I even accidentally said “I love you”. And there we were, as if I called my teacher, ‘Mom’. Crimson blush washes over my face, we share a smile.

Presumably, you’re stopping for coffee on your way to work. You’re tall and timely. I’m slow as molasses; yet, you let me do my thing. I’ve tried to explain how much it means to be of service. It’s about making people happy just as much as practicing my skills. Remembering what folx like and crafting the perfect coffee is part of my identity. Coffee has always been part of my handbook. I don’t know if you’re the patch or a work-around to clear the Crumbunny from my brain. Mainframe?

Why do I shamelessly seek validation? Why do I ask for benchmarks and praise? I’ve lost so many things to “Barry” (my TBI) and the “big shakers”. My mobility fluctuates, my memory subject to an algorithm of faith and persistence. I need reminders of who I am, and what I can still do in the real world. We all do. People like you, Martin, and moments like this keep me sane when my body and my brain are not 100%.

Understandably, I become discouraged if I focus on who I was before my accident. Redefining my place in the work force has not been easy. Every day I practice. I must forgive myself, and the people that lack understanding. I have learned healing is not linear. I’m grateful for my boring little job, what it allows me to accomplish, and the humans that help me find my way.

Seems fitting I thank you in the most Alabama way I might could muster.

Proverbs 14:29 Whoever is slow to anger has great understanding, but he who has a hasty temper exults folly.

James 1:19 My beloved brothers, understand this; everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger.

Proverbs 15:18 Hot tempers bring arguments, patients brings peace.

What truly matters is the grace we extend to other humans. We don’t need to know the circumstances of why. We only need to focus on how we can help. Martin, you exemplify the M.O. of ‘being kind because we never know what people are going through’. You practice the pause and check the score.

When you gently remind me to write a price code on your cup, Do you know you’re being inclusive? Have you ever really seen my invisible disability? Does it matter if you know that I can’t always hold that sharpie, or grip the flimsy cup? Or if perhaps, I’m just not smart? Nope. You don’t seem to care and that’s where the beauty exists.

Too many times, I mention my ex-husband. He wasn’t patient and he hated the way I made his coffee. Now, a complete stranger gives me the grace to make mistakes and play through. You let me be awkward. You let me fumble. You never seem bothered, and you keep on coming back for more.

Maybe you have not always been this way; or you do not show this care to everyone. Is this your reminder to be softer to the people in your life? Is this to remind you kindnesses is powerful? We are all profoundly worthy of grace and respect. With even the smallest dose of tenderness our light will grow.

When I was a kid I didn’t know what a ‘Virtue’ was, I thought people were saying Overt You – I remember thinking it was silly because clearly patients was not anywhere near my body at the time. No one bothered to explain it to me. For shame. I don’t want to keep asking questions of people who don’t want to teach, learn, and grow.