I’m grateful for grace that keeps me sane. This afternoon my husband prayed that he and I would be able to get where we needed to go, and that it would work out okay. Simple prayer, but then I left for school. On the way to school, driving was simple versus road rage-enducing chaotic. I got a text from my step-mother that my father lost his job and I didn’t immediately panic. I put them on the prayer roll, and went to the elevator, since I could just offer faith and that was it.
On the way up to cross the breezeway between the portals in the parking garage, I was in an elevator with a janitor. Normally I see doctors, business people, and others who intimidate me. I’m from the middle class, not upper class, and I don’t roll in the same tax bracket as those who wear Burberry. The janitor was more my speed. When I went to the other elevator, the man inside was confused and had to figure out how to get back down. Finally, the guy who wanted to get back into the elevator at the bottom was another maintenance-type.
I was probably more grateful to see these men than anyone else that day. They were people who were humble, patient, and happy. They reminded me of the livery drivers who live in my complex, or the others who make their living helping others feel important.
Coming to this part of school is going to world of Bentley’s, of the city’s elite shopping, and people who probably spend more money on their clothes than I do on my rent. However, seeing the salt of the earth on the way to class helped me feel calm and relaxed. I don’t have to put on airs for anyone. My navy ensemble is quite casual, but it’s clean, and I’m clean and neat and that’s what matters. Whether I wear a Wall-E shirt, or weigh more than the typical Yuppie, or am working on a Masters degree in my 30’s, it’s still working out.