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On most days, Missy rises before I do. She gets dressed, makes her lunch, and then sits on the couch, staring out the front window for nearly an hour until Thomas arrives. Some days, I'll sit and stare out the window with her. We'll talk about what she's going to do that day. She's never really sure where she's going to wind up. All she knows is that she's "going in." "I'm going in too," I'll say as we sit there. "As soon as you leave, I'm going in!" I only hope that I can muster the same enthusiasm for my work on that day that she will. But she's got that extra chromosome, and that gives her an edge. Luck of the draw.
"Nope," she said. "I was just thinking. I work with homeless people in my off-hours, Dan." She gazed at me with this incredible peace in her eyes. "You know the difference between those people and you?" she asked. "What?" I asked. She held up my Gold Card. "This," she said. She saw the dignity in people, and she fully understood the luck of the draw. I think of her every time I take that card from my wallet. It was a good lesson, and I think of her when I'm with Missy.
I was once having a beer at a convention with a contractor who was consumed with the growth of his business. He worked so hard and he hardly ever took time off. You would think that he loved what he did. We were talking about work and I asked him if he had ever taken the Lottery Test.
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I once did a seminar at a Holiday Inn. At the end of the day when it came time to pay the bill I was chatting with the woman who handles the catering. I handed her my American Express Gold Card. She held it in her right palm for a few moments and just smiled at it wistfully. "Something wrong?" I asked.
Missy has also taught me a lot. She's always saying, "Thank God for that." She'll ask Marianne what's for dinner and Marianne will say, "Meatloaf," and Missy will say, "Thank God for that." She doesn't say it in a way that draws attention. You really have to listen for it. It just pops out, regularly and like a mantra. Or a prayer. We're having mashed potatoes tonight, or we'll tell her that one of our daughters is coming home from college in two weeks. "Thank God for that," she'll say. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, returning children - it doesn't matter which, she's thankful for it all. I find myself repeating her words in my mind and in my heart. Thank God for that, and especially for Missy, because she makes us think about such things.| Dan Holohan - [Intro] | [Email] | [Website] |
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