"Stop worrying so much, it will all be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end."
It's been a little while since I've blogged. I'm the type where all my ducks need to be in a row to allow the creativity to flow. For the past month or two, there's been writer's block to the max for any number of reasons.
As I headed along life's journey and dealt with the toils of young adulthood - most recently, trying to find my place in the professional world with a full fledged job hunt and dealing with people going their separate ways after college - I was fortunate enough to come across something (or in this case, someone) who opened my eyes.
This extraordinary encounter occurred on a very ordinary Thursday mid day shift at Starbucks. After five years with the company, I can roll through a shift with my eyes closed. There's not much in the way of challenges, which is fine since I hope to move on to something new and exciting soon. I still enjoy the interaction with the customers. It's why I chose to stick around for so long.
A man named Dave came through the store early in the afternoon. I gave him a friendly greeting and chatted about the upcoming weekend at the espresso bar while making his tall skinny vanilla latte. I wished him a good afternoon and he set out on his way. As he passed the counter, he did a double take and took a few steps back.
"What is your wrist band for?"
I was taken aback since very few people comment on them anymore. The yellow Livestrong band has a permanent spot on my wrist. I explained the Lance Armstrong Foundation to him, and despite recent doping controversy, how I felt the heart of that particular initiative was in the right place: to raise funds for cancer research and to bring awareness. Many wore the wrist bands as a fashion statement when they came out in 2004. Mine stays there because I have two grandparents who fought cancer. One lost to it, one beat it multiple times and passed away last year. I don't plan on taking it off.
"Oh, I was just curious. I have cancer."
....
......
Whoa. Timeout. Hold the phone. That's not the response I expected.
I stepped off the floor for a few minutes to chat more with Dave. It turns out he has stage III colon cancer, and had recently completed his seventh of twelve chemotherapy sessions. I'd estimate him to be in his late 50's, and he had the look of a guy who could jump right into a triathlon without flinching. Sure enough, he had just come from a run at the YMCA. It turns out Dave is going to make it, according to his doctors.
The cancer itself has nothing to do with the moral of this story, however. The perspective Dave provided me last week is what will stick. In a rare moment of feeling defeated and needing a pick me up, Dave walks into the store with a smile and a laugh, openly discussing his illness as if it were as mundane as tomorrow's forecast or what he had for breakfast that morning. And, quite frankly, looking like a million bucks while doing it.
That's not to say encounters like this make the problems better. They don't. But they allow one to see the bigger picture when their own small section of it looks kind of dark. If you are struggling with a problem and feel entirely overwhelmed, I hope you're fortunate enough to find your own "Dave" who can help you see what a bit of positive thinking and a knack for leaning on the right people can do.
I know I'm thankful I did. Now Dave is in my prayers, and if I'm lucky enough to run across him at Starbucks over the next few weeks, I'll be sure to tell him that he made a difference in my life by his approach to his personal challenge.