Special: Finding the good

Too often, I manage to mentally misplace the gifts my God has given me.

I'd like to write about them.

God,
Thank you for allowing me to wake up in Finley's arms.
Thank you for letting the first words I heard this morning be, "Payton.... my perfect, lovely Payton..."

Thank you for shoving each other on the rides to work and school (respectively) and nearly getting killed;
'Twas worth the laugh.

Thank you for eating a burrito with cheese bean and rice that I made half the things the day before,
thank you for letting it up my cholesterol and be greasy and good.

When the world collapses and the sky turns to an angry fire, my work place's food will still be good.

Thank you for that.

Thank you for my Co-workers asking me, "You got that? Do I need to repeat in Spanish?"
Thank you for Troy, with his easy middle-aged smile he's fought so hard for, teasing me when I make the little mistakes.
Thank you for Andy, shaking his head as I hum while I work, and the gentlemen at the corner table who was slightly ashamed but nevertheless tapping his fingers along with me, singing "Sing, Sweet nightengale" as I cleaned the windows.
Thank you for Brian, helping me, teaching me about the importance of sauces, and offering to play Magic: The Gathering every Friday night with his group at Planet Chaos after he saw my dice bag.
Thank you that Rhi wasn't around when I forget to label the Mac n' Cheese.
Thank you that Kayla wasn't TOO upset when I mistook her for Amber from behind; I really like that poor thing.

Thank you for all the customers that view me as human, that I treat and love like friends; especially the ones who--when they say, ''Thank you, I hope you have a good day"--they mean it. I can always tell.

The woman who came in with glistening eyes and red cheeks had a heart hurt. Help her, God. You alone know who she is truly, and you alone can offer aid... in this instance, I could not, and I'm sorry.

Thank you for the Gentleman who always wears witty t-shirts, is disgustingly fat, and has a wonderful personality. Thank you for his original greetings; everything from "SALUTATIONS, GLORIOUS MADAM" to a Kling-on verse I understood but nobody else but Brian would have. I will love that man from the bottom of my heart from keeping me, during the lunch rush, from the elderly folks who tend to hate me because I have a ready smile and an even readier singing voice.

Thank you to the Hispanic couple who listened to me singing along to "Kiss me" (sixpence none the richer) and pretended to dance when my back was turned. If I am silly to you, if you laugh at me, friends, it was worth the smiles on those weary faces.

Thank you to the man who bought two drinks by accident, and when I offered to refund him, said he wanted both; only to give the drink to a very large family who came after him. I looked at him a long time and then I paid for his order out of my pocket.

I will reward kindness, stranger. I will be your Karma... and please come talk to me. I can tell your lonely.

So many hearts. So many people. Sometimes I sneak into the bathroom and close my eyes, learning them, offering them what they need whenever I can. If there is a perk to my job, it's that--they're people. I'm a person. I have interaction many, many times every time I work.

Thank you to the new employee and his boss (who take turns paying) who come in once a week, have a devastating eating contest, hate themselves after, and bid me good-bye with "I'm never coming here again!" (To which I reply, "Next week?" And they say, "Yeah, probably. Until my heart stops.") And then they order pie. (They've tied every time.)

Thank you for the ability to work hard for the people I have come to love so much, even after a week and--how many days?--because they are kind to me.

Thank you for walks with my finally-free hair, down the dirty, damp, and slightly cold windy roads, singing at the top of my lungs from the songs I've heard on the Radio at work. (I love the way you love me!!! Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!) Because that music fills me with the savage joy I get from simple things.

Thank you from Troy, already late for his date after needed-overtime, offering to give me a ride, pulling over abruptly in typcial Troy fashion and causing a chain stop, greeted in response by a string of profanity that I hid my giggles for.

Thank you for the dark fear from the group of college boys, always in hoodies, who greets me with slurs and offers I do not respond to; because I am a lady.

I'm in the college now.

Thank you for Jonathan Z. Pollack, my Native American history teacher. Thank you for his un-ironed shirts and floppy ears and baby-curled hair; thank you for his big smile and the love he has for his job that I feel and appreciate. Thank you, also, for the repeated glances towards the clock; because despite being thin, that man LOVES to eat. Talks about it all the time. Thank you for him writing the word 'Tangent' on a sheet of paper and holding it up when he goes on one, so we don't write it down as notes. Thank you, also, for him being open-minded; despite him being Jewish, he reads more and more on the Christian faith so he doesn't offend people. I think he knows more about the Christian faith than anybody I've ever met, and I laugh to myself when he walks into the room with some obscure Christian cult's book tucked under his skinny arm.

Thank you for Lori Pennock, even more of a stereotype than I am, who comments on my doodles thoughtfully, suggests new books for me based on my comments, and offers to bring in treats for the class. I'm going to love that woman for a long time--she doesn't love math so much as people. Once in awhile she'll say, "Write me a poem, Payton?" when I'm getting discouraged about something (and I do). It's that she cares that makes me want to do well at all.

Thank you for the affronted pride of Mr. Virgil Miller. Most especially, thank you for giving him the first name 'Virgil', because it gives me the much-needed smile to edge his class with. Thank you for how laughable and kind a being he is, even if he's gruff about it to hide his sexuality (in vain). Thank you that he hasn't seen my blog to comment on all the grammatical mistakes I have undoubtedly made. Can he be less lonely, please, God?

Thank you also for the big, booming laugh of Mr. Biran (b-ran) Patel. He's a very wonderful man.

Thank you for Chaz Angell, Malcolm, Lacey, and Alyssa Koch. Thank you for them, bringing their papers to me (except for Malcolm, the smart ass), and their meant smiles. If I'm going to have friends in college, it's going to be people like them. :)

Note to self: Set Malcolm up with Hannah. They'd be good together.

Most especially, God
Thank you for Katie.



Katie.

Thank you for Finley.


Finley....





This is a new life. I ask, please, that those who I have wronged find it in their hearts to forgive me, even if they never speak to me again.... people like Kate. I ask that I forgive myself for those wrongs, too.


I love you, God.


Amen.