Turn your day around

I got up and checked the calendar. The car had to go in for servicing. I hated driving it in, getting someone to follow me, then standing in line at the service garage. Besides, I was busy. My friend followed me to the garage, and I climbed into his car. Geez, it was hot. I wished I was at home, in the air-conditioned lodge.

“Want to go out to eat breakfast?” I asked.

“Not really,” he said.

“But the window washers will be at the house. We might as well wait until they leave. Even if we go home now, I won’t be able to write.”

“You’re right. Where do you want to eat?”

“Do you have any cash on you?” I asked. He didn’t. “Well then, we can’t go to our favorite restaurants. They don’t take checks or credit cards.”

We chose a restaurant neither of us liked. His waffle was pasty. I could taste the grits in my soggy pancakes from the premade mix that hadn’t been stirred. The syrup was imitation maple flavoring. The grapefruit juice was weak. I pushed my food around the plate, then stopped eating. My stomach already hurt.

We went to the cashier to pay for our food. We waited and waited while he did some other work, ignoring the fact that we were the only ones waiting in line. Finally, he turned to us and smiled. “Good news,” he said. “You’ve won a prize.”

“What it is?” I asked.
“A free sundae. You’ll get it when you come back to eat here next time.”

I started to tell him to give my surprise to the next child who came in, when he turned to me scowling. “Ma’am, we have a problem,” he said. “Your credit card was denied.”

“That’s impossible,” I said. “I pay my bill in full each month. Try again.”

He did. The card still didn’t go through.

My stomach really hurt by the time we got home. The bank had screwed up. The automatic payment to my credit card company had mysteriously been sent someplace else. By the time that problem got solved, it was time to go pick up my car.

There was a long line ahead of me at the service garage. It had been 104 degrees in the car. I was almost passing out. And everyone ahead of me was ordering tires. I sat down on the bench to relax. Finally, my turn.

“Here’s your keys,” the man said. “Just a minute.” He turned and asked the mechanic, “Did you check the brakes?”

He said, “I forgot.”

“Sorry,” the man said. “It’ll just be another half hour.”

An hour later, on the way home, I stopped at the bank. I really needed some cash. The regular line was long, winding its way from the tellers to the door. The business line was long, too, but not as bad. I took my place. Fifteen minutes later, it was my turn. “This line is for people who have a business account,” the woman snapped.

“I do,” I whispered. “Look at the check.”

Much later that evening, when I finally started to write and my stomach began settling down from the pancake mix, a vision popped into my head. “What about two eggs, cooked in real butter, with mushrooms, a ground beef patty, and some toast?”

A few minutes later, he disappeared out the door. “Going to the store,” he hollered. “Be right back.”

We sat at the counter at 10:30 that night. The eggs were perfect. The mushrooms were stuffed with cream cheese. The toast was soft from butter. And the hamburger patties were done perfectly and smothered in A-1 sauce.

A peace settled in. I felt grateful and blessed. I remembered a conversation I had heard a long time ago. “Oh, I see it’s going to be one of those days,” a woman had snapped to her boss. “Not unless you make it that way,” he said.

Stuff happens. But no matter what time it is, it’s never too late to say thanks, and have a good day.

God, help me know that between you and me, we have the power to eventually turn any day around.

From the book: More Language of Letting Go

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