And this happened at the post office last week

My sweet friend had a sacred experience at her post office last week, and she wrote this poem that very day. 

It is too good not to share. And she said I could. 

Reaching Out, Reaching Up

©2018 Susan Noyes Anderson

The week before Christmas, I wait at the post office,

mailing one last precious thing.

The line isn’t quite out the door, but it’s close,

and our holiday mood’s taken wing.

With senders disgruntled, and workers the same,

there’s a spirit of dissatisfaction.

A young mom, with toddler and baby in tow,

offers me a much-needed distraction.

Such a cute little girl, such a sweet little guy,

and they’re hangin’ in pretty darn well.

But after a while their endurance breaks down,

and the toddler commences to yell.

She is not a small girl, but her mom picks her up,

calms her down, and hands baby a treat.

I smile and she smiles back, a meeting of minds.

(That mother-to-mother thing’s neat.)

I mind my own business, but keep glancing over.

It’s clear that the outlook is bleak.

Her daughter now screaming, the mom’s on the floor…

and her smile looks progressively weak. 

When her turn finally comes, Mama jumps to her feet

with more vigor than I can believe.

She has 20 packages she needs to mail,

and she’s still there when I go to leave.

I walk by her window; she’s back on the floor

as the worker weighs, measures, and labels.

It’s clear that my urge to go home should give way

to a need that transcends my timetables.

I stoop down beside her and ask, “Can I help?”

She seems startled, then looks in my eyes.

She blushes, then pauses, then blurts, “Do you mean it?”

her desperate voice hard to disguise.

“Sure do,” I reply, and she grants me the grace

of accepting my offer with trust.

“Could you find the wallet in that diaper bag?”

I admit, I was somewhat nonplussed.

But I dug through the bag, found the wallet at last,

and was told where the credit card lay.

I handed it to her, but she didn’t take it,

just asked me to use it and pay.

I did as she said, so she stayed on the floor

with her little girl, now fast asleep.

When the payment was finished, her son caught my eye

with a sweet grin that warmed me, heart-deep.

He drop-kicked his Cheerios, signaling me

to retrieve them with all of his charms. 

My memory flew to another young boy

and those days he was safe in my arms.

It all came together: the mother, her children,

my Todd, and the families he’d served.

It was like he was with me, and I was his hands.

For a moment, I felt quite unnerved.

But as I said goodbye, I was happy and grateful,

strong feelings that moved me to tears…

I had sensed Todd beside me, and we were a team,

spreading Christmas cheer from our own spheres.

Mine was just a small favor, but it brought such joy.

I could see in her eyes what it meant.

Best of all, I don’t think she was very far off

when she called what was done “heaven-sent.”

You see, Todd was a helper; it nurtured his soul.

Every job that he held had that purpose.

From counseling parents to placing the homeless

to medical school…he sought service. 

This one act of kindness showed me a new way

to connect with my son, without fail.

As I reach out to others, our hands will be joined,

showing love from both sides of the veil.