I’d the idea that people might enjoy sharing what inspiration they’d found, or happened to come across. As Trinity’s Blog is an easily accessible form to communicate those moments, Dean Powell agreed that I use our ‘book club blog’ to start this thread. I thought this story from Ree Drummond would be a great story with which to start – the many ways in which God shows himself to us
After my fourth baby (above) was born five weeks early (you can read about the harrowing experience here, but only if talk of placentas doesn’t bother you), he had to spend two weeks in the NICU unit at a hospital in the big city. Having experienced three completely uneventful births already, I found myself very unprepared not just for the physical pain of the emergency c-section, but also for the worry of seeing my baby boy hooked up to monitors and lying helplessly in a tiny hospital crib. It was a foreign land even for me, the daughter of a physician, and I was an emotional wreck. I’m sure the wildly swinging postpartum hormone levels did very little to help.
I’ll never forget what ushered me over the line from abject worry and despondence to ultimately feeling like everything was going to be okay. It was Day 3 of my stay at the NICU, and I felt as lost as I’d felt the moment I’d arrived. Marlboro Man was 100 miles away, caring for our other three children on the ranch. The NICU ward was sterile and cold, and I’d found the staff to be preoccupied (rightly so) and busy; and I was frustrated by my complete lack of knowledge and perspective. I had no idea if my baby was going to be hooked up to monitors until he was eighteen, or if he’d be fine tomorrow—no one had taken the time to give me any answers or updates.
Plus, my staples hurt. Man, did my staples hurt.
I was staying in a little convent-style room at the hospital so I could spend time with the baby whenever I wanted, then go rest up and recover (and watch marathons of Real World/Road Rules Challenge—yes, it’s true) when I needed to. That day, on Day 3, I’d just left my baby and was making my way through the winding corridors of the hospital that led to my own room when I met a middle-aged man walking in my direction. My head was down—I was deep in thought about my baby, my staples, and which Real World member was going to be eliminated on the next episode—but I happened to look up and glance in the man’s direction…just in time to see him flash me a kind smile and warm, wonderful wink.
I can’t explain it, but I was instantly transformed. Every cloud, every doubt, every speck of doom and dread that had been following me around for the previous several days flew away. With a wink and a smile from a total stranger, I was suddenly myself again. The rest of my time in the NICU, I endeavored to make a conscious effort to make eye contact and smile at the other desperate, filled-with-worry parents in the unit. And what I found, Lortab 10 aside, is that a kind smile really is a salve to the soul. The smile itself doesn’t necessarily mean pain and difficulty will disappear…but it certainly goes a long way toward giving our fellow human beings a brief moment of lightness, warmth, and a brighter outlook.
I’ve thought about that man so much in the six years since. He’s was such a powerful, tangible example of what a tiny dose of kindness and gentleness can do for another person. It made me realize that while there are plenty of tangible ways to give back to the world around us—volunteer work, financial contributions, tutoring, mentoring, food donations, mission work—a smile, whether directed toward a friend, a family member, or a complete stranger—is almost a ministry in itself.
I share this smile with you
Peggy
