Building community, yesterday, today, and tomorrow

We're in the midst of a blizzard here in St. Paul with an accumulated total of 20+ inches of new snow predicted with winds gusting up to 35 mph.

Inside, holiday warmth prevails as I work on several writing projects. I'm reposting below  a few words that  I hope will continue to be relevant at this special time of the year.

You all stay safe and warm!

Note:In Dec. 07 BlogCatalog members were invited to post about some act of kindness we’ve performed. The following is my response to that invitation.

Acts of kindness are easily integrated in the course of our daily lives while doing weekly errands or shopping for special occasions. Regardless of the season, no group of people are more appreciative of a kind word than store employees, and it’s become my practice over the years to thank sales clerks and cashiers at the checkout counter for good service. Sometimes, I even take the time to fill out a commendation card or ask to speak to a supervisor.

One morning as the cashier at my local supermarket checked out my groceries, she paused to examine a package of meat more closely. She’d seen signs of spoilage that I’d missed in my haste to finish my shopping. The fellow at the end of the counter who was bagging up my purchases immediately dashed to the back of the store and replaced the meat for me. These two young people were smiling happily nearby as I commended them to their supervisor.

Customers assisting customers is another opportunity for spreading goodwill. Last August, I was looking for a decorative candle for a birthday gift for my daughter-in-law when another customer approached me. She explained she was visiting here from India, and she wanted to buy her hostess a nice gift. She asked for my advice and together we found a candle that matched the décor of the home where she was staying.

Many of us dread shopping during this time of year when stores are crowded, and people are impatiently standing in long lines. But I’ve found that even under those circumstances goodwill is contagious. Recently, I was back in the supermarket picking up a few last minute items for a cookie baking session. As I walked up and down the aisles, I was soon receiving and giving help to others: “Oh, the baking soda is on your right - right below the baking powder.”

“Have you seen cookie cutters anywhere?”

“Next aisle – over there by the pans and cookie sheets.”

Instead of a bunch of cranky people that day, we were good-naturedly teasing one another, smiling, and laughing as we came to one another’s aid; I left the store feeling as if a group of strangers for half an hour or so had become an ad hoc community.

And community, after all, is what it’s all about – as members of the BlogCatalog virtual community, in our neighborhoods, at church, at our local shopping center, and yes, even as we participate in the political process already heating up in the 2008 campaign.

Snowstorms and Brass Angel Candleholders

The brass angels holding their tall candles aloft are standing vigil in my entryway these days. The angels were a gift from my daughter Jean more than 20 years ago, and I’ve kept them close at hand ever since. As you can see in the above photo, one angel is taller than the other, reminding me of a mother and daughter.

Ever since I received the brass angels, they’ve appeared from time to time in my dreams, sometimes floating in mid-air in the living room and occasionally standing above the foot of my bed watching over me.

The angels were an appropriate gift from Jean who worried about me because I seldom paid attention to weather reports and was frequently oblivious to tornado alerts and warnings of other potentially catastrophic conditions.

In the early 90s, I left Minnesota to sojourn briefly in the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains in western Pennsylvania. When I picked up the phone that Friday evening, Jean said, “Mom, do you know what’s coming your way?”

“It’s supposed to snow, isn’t it?”

“Put the phone down, Mom, and go out in the kitchen and check your food supply. Then come back and tell me what you have on hand.”

“I have some oranges, carrots, a loaf of bread and some coffee,” I reported.

Back in St. Paul, Jean had been listening to the national weather news: the blizzard of the century was headed toward the hamlet where I lived. Following my daughter’s advice, I rushed out to stock up with groceries and other supplies.

By morning, the snow had drifted as high as the roof of my back porch, and my driveway wasn’t plowed until the following Tuesday. It was probably my imagination, but when I glanced at the brass angels on my way out that afternoon, I could have sworn the little one winked at me.

Regardless, I’d learned my lesson. By the time the snow started falling in St. Paul last Saturday morning, I had a good supply of groceries and a couple of library books to read in case I couldn’t get out for a day or two.

I got to church and back on Sunday without mishap and made a run to the supermarket to restock before the second major snowfall of the season struck yesterday.

Dodging snowstorms this first week in December has lured me away from the ups and downs of Campaign 2008 and other compelling current events to holiday preparations. My son and his wife will be here on Sunday afternoon to bake Christmas cookies and once I get this posted, I plan to do a little cleaning – very little - and decorate my apartment.

Despite our fondest hopes, my daughter Jean may not be here in person this weekend, but we hold her always in our hearts, and the treasured gift of the brass angel candleholders continuously assures us of her presence in our lives.