Working hard to get my fill

- Journey

A few thoughts about my job...

- I work at a library. Whenever I sneeze and a customer makes a comment about possibly having a cold or something, I just tell them I'm allergic to books.

- I've been working here for about a year and a half. I have one co-worker who's the type of person to always so your name when he talks to you, one of those really polite things. It's like how I always try to maintain eye contact with people to show respect. Anyway, for the last week, this co-worker has been calling me by the wrong name... in fact, he's been calling me by another co-worker's name that happens to start with an N. He's never had a problem with my name before, and I thought it was just a fluke the first time he did it a couple days ago. Now it's just too awkward to correct him. Today he did it in front of my circ partner, and she and I had a good laugh over it after he walked away. I have a feeling that if I work another branch for a bit and come back, he'll say the right name.

- I wear a nametag. Did I mention that? And sometimes I go home with it still on, and I'll sit with my family for the longest time before anyone mentions it...

- I am sick and tired of hearing the whole "I can't believe you charge us overdue fines. I pay your wages you know" thing. I put up with it for a while when I first started there. But now I've grown bold enough to humbly point out that I pay both taxes and fines.

- I love books. WAYYYYY too much. Like... I see books and I just have to have them. Anyway, I am a book lover, and I love taking walks... *sniff* I'm sorry, I'm thinking about books again. I just want to have them in a basket and in my bed... And all over my floor. Sorry, I'm getting emotional... I think about how many don't have a home and how I should have them. I just love books!!

- I'm pretty sure I could get drunk off the amount of hand sanitizer I use at work. I hate to say I'm a germophobe, but like... do you even know how many people touch the stuff that's in the library? Let me tell you... it's a lot.

- Today, someone told me that I was his favourite because I remember him and because once he forgot his card and I let him take out books because he knew his card number. I'll be honest... Yes, I do let people take out books if they know their card number. Because, really, that's the important part, right?

- See? I told you I really love books.















Yes, that is a shelf just for bibles and dictionaries.

- Pages are the backbone. Do not mess with the pages. Do not under-schedule them. Do not, for any reason, make them not want to do their job well. Because you really really need them to do their job well.

That is all for now. I'm sure there will be a part two, at some point. Maybe even a part three. I think a lot about my job (and of my job), so I have a lot of random things to say.

Everybody wants a thrill.

The shadow of your smile when you are gone...

- From "The Sandpiper"

Two weeks ago today, a very wonderful woman died. Her name was Maria and she was a mother, a grandmother and great-grandmother. She was my grandmother. I didn't exactly see her "breathe her last," but I did see her not take in another breath. I was with my mom (her daughter) and one of my sisters. She'd been breathing really slowly, like that was all her body could handle. Like breathing was the one last thing she could do. Every time she exhaled, I'd watch and wait for what seemed like forever to see her finally breathe in a quick, shallow breath. It was around 2am, and we weren't even really paying attention, but somehow the three of us all seemed to turn at the same time to watch her. And watch her. And watch her.

Finally, she stopped inhaling. Her breathing stopped, her heartbeat stopped. Everything. She just stopped living.

When I started making the rounds to my friends about telling them that Grandma had died, I thought about how they would react. Would they feel sympathetic? Of course they would. My friends care for me as I do for them, and of course they would feel bad for me. But did they know why they felt sad for me?

It occurred to me that many people don't give a second thought when an old person dies. I mean, they're old, and they won't live forever, right? So, it's not exactly a big shocker. But for me... wow. I wasn't shocked, and I'm still not shocked. She had too many things happening with her body, and these last few weeks were obviously just too much for her to handle. But the thing is that... she's just always been there. There was only really a six-year period of my life where she didn't live with my family. She helped raise me along with the rest of my family. She was always, always there.

I knew during these last few years that her health was failing her, that she was just getting worse and worse. I tried to mentally prepare myself for her death without getting all depressed over it. I knew it would happen. I'd get up every morning and go to her room to see if she was still breathing while she slept, or I'd find her already awake and she'd smile and say hello to me, ask me what time it was. I'm ashamed to admit that it scared the crap out of me every time I did this because I didn't want to be the one to find her dead one morning.

And of course, I did find her dead one morning, but at least I knew it was coming and I wasn't alone. But it still hurts like crazy that she's dead. Picking out a coffin felt so surreal. Talking about what would happen with her stuff brought out bitter-sweet memories. Watching her coffin go up in her special tomb next to the grandfather I never knew and listening to my brother sob was too much for me to handle.

Two weeks later, and I still have to remind myself that I don't have to get up and give her breakfast and her pills. I don't have to check on her to see if she's okay, I don't have to bring her something to drink... I don't have to do all those things I resented while she was alive. And now I wish I could have one day back just to sit with her, just to kiss her cheek, to listen to one of her crazy stories from back home. I can't have those things back. I don't ever have to painstakingly explain the time of year to her or answer the same question five times in a row. But I'd give almost anything to do that again.

She was such a part of me, my siblings and everyone who knew her the way she was. She was such a strong woman, so wise, so full of vitality. She certainly could complain about the pain she was in, and yet she still worked so hard. She was amazing and now she's gone. How am I ever supposed to deal with that?

My only consolation is that I know that those who believe in a risen Christ will never truly be affected by death. I know that even though death can take the physical form, can literally take the breath right out of you, it can never take your soul. Never. And I know that my grandmother is alive in Christ. I know she has no pain, no weird memory loss, and that maybe she's with my grandpa, the love of her life, right now.

Ever since my grandma's death, I've been looking at the people I love and thinking about how one day they'll die. I know for a fact now that those people won't live forever. And I may not even see them all die, but they will. This may sound extremely morbid, but at least I have the comfort of knowing that most of my loved ones are also believers. And for those who aren't, well... don't believe I won't try my hardest to convince them to be. Because as much as it hurt to lose my grandma, it would hurt even more to lose someone who isn't a believer.

The day before my grandma died, I came to see her at the hospital and called her name. It was clear her body was shutting down, but her eyes fluttered open very briefly, recognition dawned and she smiled wearily at me. Grandma... I can't wait to see your smile again.

... will colour all my dreams and light the dawn.

Do to others what you would have them do to you

- Matthew 7:12

What is so wrong with the world that one act of kindness can bring someone so close to tears? How can it be so surprising that a stranger would go out of their way for you? It's so sad to know that the world is such a "Do unto yourself as you would have done unto you"* kind of place.

A few weeks ago, a woman came into the library with an $80 dollar fine. At first she just handed me the overdue books, and was perfectly willing to pay her fines. But as I was checking in the books, she told me she felt really guilty about having them so long, but that she'd been in the hospital for two months because of colon cancer, I think it was.

And in my head, I was like, "Woah, wait a minute. I can't make this woman pay $80 for being in the hospital for two months. That's ridiculous." So I excused myself and went to talk to one of my superiors, who kind of half-sighed at me, but she told me to waive half the fines and have her pay the other half.

I swear, when I told that woman what I was doing, she literally almost cried. And she took my hand and said, "What's your name? Natasja? You are so kind, thank you so much." And I was like, "Well what did you expect? I can't make you pay all that after having been in the hospital."

My point is not to claim to be some kind of a good Samaritan, though the world could certainly use more of those. The point is more that I lost absolutely nothing by showing kindness to a complete stranger. And even if I had to go out of my way to help someone else, that lose is worth less than what the other person would gain. In other words, generally speaking doing right by showing kindness is profitable, no matter where the profit is. Does that make sense?

While I understand how uncomfortable it may be for some people to step out and do "the right thing," I still find it very sad that it should come as such a surprise. We should grateful, of course, but surprised? That's silly.


*I hope you appreciate my intentional misquotation

I want to be the things you see in me

- Tasjie

You know how sometimes you watch one of those sappy romance movies, where at some point he has to go away for whatever reason, and while they're saying goodbye she kisses him then just turns around and walks away, and then you're thinking, "That was bull! Go back there and give him a proper goodbye," and you think that you could never do that to someone you love?

Yeah well, I didn't think I would either, but I did. See, my fiancé, who still lives in the States, was up for a few days, and I had to take him to the bus eventually right? So I waited in line with him, then when I knew he would have to get on his bus, I kissed him, he said "I love you," and I whispered a barely-audible "I love you, too." Then I rubbed his chest a couple times, whispered and even less-audible "Bye," and just turned around and walked away.

I wish I hadn't done it, but it seemed like the best thing to do at the time. I'm tired of always having to say goodbye, and I don't like crying in front of him. But then after I walked away, I felt awful and even worse than I would have felt. I almost went back to him, but instead I walked to my car.

I'm lucky that I'm marrying someone like him, because he doesn't get angry or offended. He said he knows how I feel about him, and although it caught him off guard, he got over it. Which doesn't really make me feel any better about it, but it does make me feel better about him. If that's even possible.

The point here is that there will always be awful things you'll have to go through, and the only thing you can do is make the best of it. If you must say goodbye to someone, even temporarily, then you better make it the best goodbye you've ever done in your whole life. Also, it really helps to make sure that you tell that person how much you truly care for them and maybe throw in an extra hug and kiss.

You know them all so well, those things you see in me.