Good People

60: (July 2023)

Living in a small, rural town rather than a city means relying more on the goodness of neighbors, to a certain extent. I was reminded of this reality yet again this past week, when a number of family members were staying at our house.

First, our two-year-old grandson fell and gashed his ankle on a jagged piece of slate on our garden path while making a quick turn. A few days later, a very elderly family member fell inside our house, resulting in serious body pain and shortness of breath. In both cases, our local hospital emergency room was there to provide excellent care. My grandson got two stitches and proudly showed off a row of stickers the medical staff had placed on his legs, and the elderly family member was sent home with a good report of no broken bones or immediate heart issues.

I am so grateful that Monadnock Community Hospital exists, and for the good doctors and nurses who choose to work there. Their dedication provides an invaluable service to everyone who lives in the many small towns of the surrounding region; we are extremely fortunate to have good care available within a short drive.

I am also grateful for our local volunteer fire department. When our elderly family member fell, it was 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning. That said, within minutes of placing a phone call, several volunteer firefighters appeared at our door, with a few others trickling in shortly after. They calmly and adeptly assessed our family member’s health, determined that a visit to the emergency room was necessary, and gently transported her in a special chair through the house and into the ambulance that awaited them in our driveway.

One of the firefighters is my next door neighbor, who told us that he would let his chickens out so that they could visit our two grandchildren, who take great delight in the hens. What a sweet thing to do—above and beyond the call of duty! Another firefighter commented that he hadn’t seen me in a while; several years ago he was the first firefighter to arrive when I was experiencing severe chest pain. How many calls had he made in the intervening years, ensuring that our friends and neighbors got quick help when needed?

These volunteer men and women do what they do without monetary reward, but I hope they know how much their gifts of time and talent mean to the community. They are priceless. As the last firefighter walked out our door, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude. Good people everywhere.

40: (July 2003)

I was engrossed in a book about spiritual pilgrimage when the phone rang at 8:30 a.m. It was a distant friend who lives across the state, calling to tell me that a “pilgrim” would be walking through the town adjacent to mine. She asked if I would be willing to keep an eye out for him and bring him water, as it was going to be a hot day, and she was concerned for him. The fact that I was reading about coincidences between the inner world and outer events (synchronicities) was not lost on me.

I found out she was an old friend of the pilgrim, who had visited with her family days before. She relayed that the 62-year-old journeyer had a white beard, wore a patched jean jacket, and carried a staff with a cross on it. Apparently, he had been walking for 35 years; it was his calling as a Catholic religious brother to traverse the globe by foot from one holy shrine to another.

Dog food shopping was on my agenda that morning, so two hours later, a friend (whom I had filled in on the potential pilgrim sighting), and I drove to the next town to buy pet and garden supplies. I had barely turned onto the road leading to the store when I shouted, “There he is!”  My friend thought I was joking, but there he was indeed, crossing the road just a few hundred feet in front of us. I pulled over and we jumped out, eager to proffer the thermos of ice water that I had packed in case we ran into him.

I quickly explained about the phone call I received that morning from our mutual friend. She had fallen very short of accurately describing his jean garment—a floor-length robe of dozens of small, denim patches. But what was most startling about his appearance were his clear blue eyes; they sparkled and seemed capable of seeing into a person. We chatted briefly, and he explained that he relies on divine providence for most of his daily needs. He spends his time in prayer while he walks.

“But how do you survive?” my friend asked. “How do you manage?”

He looked directly at me and said, “Trust. Trust in God.”  I had to turn away from his gaze, because I was embarrassed by the surprising rush of emotion I felt in that moment. His words pierced me, and something shifted in my heart.

After he drank the water, we all hugged and said goodbye as if we had known and cared about each other for all our lives. When I returned to my car, tears started rolling down my cheeks. “My friend is going to think I’m a lunatic,” I thought. But when I turned to glance at her in the passenger seat, she had tears streaming down her face, too. It was an encounter of only a few minutes, yet it deeply affected both of us.

The funny thing was, it was not so much anything that he said or did that moved me the most. It was his presence. It was beautiful. He radiated something that was palpable. I felt like he had peeled into the layers of his being, and the divine light that is in all of us shone out and through him. Perhaps my inability to better articulate what it was about him that touched me with such intensity is because he had unearthed within himself true mystery. And it left me speechless.

60-40:

It is important to remember and recognize the good people we encounter on a daily basis. They are quietly among us, doing acts of service and generosity—people who smile at us, heal us, rescue us, and make us laugh. From small acts to large ones, it all adds up to radiating circles of communities that care, touching hearts and lives.

In a world filled with a great deal of strife, deeds of generosity and kindness have never sparkled more brightly.