So I like to push limits...

Well, actually, I love to...

Sometimes, this side, has forced me into some pretty precarious situations.

But THAT'S a story for another time.

There are elements of this "side" in the following story.

Anyway, today I spent time in meditation.  A friend of mine, just introduced me to a program that guides you in meditation exercises.  You spend 10 minutes a day meditating, and it will "supposedly" change your outlook on life.

Right.

I was reluctant and skeptical at first.

But I tried it, several times today.

Actually, I got a little compulsive, because I attempted to meditate about 7 times.  I honestly believe the stuff works.

I meditated for about 10 minutes on my porch in the spring air.  Being the beginner, my mind did wander some to what snacks I could ingest, or my "to do" list, or the dirty bath tub that desperately needed scrubbing.  But for the most part, I was able to focus on breathing, and the visualizations for most of the 600 seconds.

I had been sitting for a long time (10 minutes).  I decided to download a podcast and go on a run.  I focused and listened intently.  And then something happened, that never does...I lost track of time.

I looked up at the sky, and only noticed, (actually chose to ignore) the dark sky... that rain clouds were covering the blue sky.

"Ohhhhhhhh, I'll be fine.  Just a few drops won't hurt."  I said out loud  to myself.  Nevermind the electronic devices! (Cell phone and ipod).  "Who's worried?  Not me!"

I needed groceries.  I pulled out my pre-written list from my athletic pants pocket, and headed into Trader Joes' glistening with sweat.  I bought oatmeal, bacon, avocado, a 1/2 gallon of almond milk, turkey meat, broccoli, hummus, etc., etc. etc.  Ok.  You can visualize the load here.  I needed a lot more than I had thought.  I also realized that this would be two PAPER grocery bags that I would haul home for 2 miles. 

"Well, if it rains, I'm screwed, because the paper bag will get soggy and maybe, well, bust.  But I'll be fine.  I'm sure it'll just be a little drizzle." 

Wrong.

Five minutes into my peaceful walk, the wind blew somethin' fierce, and the rain began pelting.

"Dumb girl.  You saw the signs. Those rain clouds...But I'll be fiiiiiiiiiiine.  I KNOW!  I'll just take side streets where there are trees.  Limbs and branches, to slow the downpour.  And if the rain gets really bad, I'll just hide underneath the porch of one of these apartments.  I don't know who lives there but I'm sure it'll be fine."

Bust.

The strap on one paper bag ripped.

Bag on the sidewalk.  Down for the count.

I shook my wet head.  Another 1/2 mile to go.

I scooped up the bag in between my elbow and chest and cradled it, praying the other bag wouldn't bust too.

The rain kept pouring down, down, down... I could barely keep my contacts from blurring as it seemed the rain was streaming right into my eye sockets.

"Ok, on Ponce.  Home stretch.  Just 10 more minutes."

But the rain was hitting harder and the bags were giving way.

This sucked.

Hmmm... so much for pushing the limits, and wishful thinking..

Shouldn't have messed with mother nature.

"Sigh."

I had resolved to cradle each soggy bag full of my food for another 1/2 mile, and sorely buy a new phone and ipod.

My head fell toward my chest as the rain pelted on my forehead.

Defeat.

And then, without warning...

"Lady!  Are you CRAAAAZY?!"  a voice yelled out from the Open Door Community Center.

"Ummm... yeah, I guess so!"  I laughed.

"Where is your umbrella?!" A man yelled, dressed in a yellow pancho getting off his bike and rolling it to the entrance to the community center.

"Uh... don't have one?" I said with a sheepish grin.

"Wait right there.  I'll get you one!" he said, urgently.

I focused my eyes through the rain, as my contacts floated around in my eyeballs.

"Wait.  Ed.  Ed!  Hey!  It's Caroline!  Caroline Granger!!  Remember me?"

Ed blinked a few times, and then recognition.

"Caroline?  Girl!  Get in here! Get out of that rain and into this house," he said with loving, compassionate, protective, fatherly authority.

I met Ed five years ago.  Five years ago, I packed up my Pontiac Sunfire, and left Charlotte, NC with all of my belongings, and a vision to start a NEW life.  I also had no work lined up nor did I have shelter.  It was a questionable time in my life to say the least.

I heard about the Open Door Community Center from locals.  A place for homeless people to go and shower, get medical supplies, a sandwich, a hug.  I needed this place, and I wanted to connect.

I don't quite remember how I met Ed.  I think I just walked over to the house and entered the yard.  I think I met him in a circle up for prayer time on a Wednesday morning, when politics was discussed way beyond my comfort level.   I believe I politely interrupted saying, "Don't we have work to do today?  Let's hold the debate for another time."

Anyway, I liked these people.  I felt at home.  I liked walking in, knowing I could feel safe.  I loved the feeling of security, and hearing the words, "You are welcome here, anytime."

I loved handing out medicine and socks to my homeless neighbors.  I felt grateful for smiles, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Ed handed me a key, and said, "you have access here anytime.  Whatever you need, you just come on in."

And I did.  I visited a lot, and the neighbors became my good friends.

And then...

Life happened.

Work happened.

An engagement to be married happened.

The loss of that engagement happened.

Other things took priority...

I caught the  "busy" sickness.

I visited less frequently.

And then I just stopped visiting the Open Door altogether.

"Girl, where have you been?!"

I looked at the wet lobby floor.

"Um, busy?"

"Well, we really miss you here.  We do."

I suddenly felt this surge of warmth in my throat.  Looking back, I think I was about to cry.  This place was where I felt MOST comforted and comfortable.

"Here, take this umbrella, and I'm giving you a ride home."

"Um, are you sure, Ed?  Do you have time?"

"My cardiologist says I have at least 15 years left, so I think that's time enough.  Right?"

I smiled.

The rain had slowed a bit, and we crunched on the gravel to his little car.

There's something so comforting about not having to make a decision in a moment of desperation. There's something so peaceful about knowing that a man who has a daughter my age, is taking the time out of his crazy schedule to be a gentleman.  There's something reassuring about knowing that I'm safe, and I don't have to
fight
so
hard.

There's something so great about receiving the gift of love.

There's something so great about passing that gift on.

This Wednesday I'll be back in the yard of the Open Door Community Center.

This Wednesday, I'll be handing peanut butter and jelly to my neighbors.