MoreCheese

A Modern Day Christmas Miracle

In case you missed this story on the morning news today, I just wanted to pass it along, because if this isn't a modern-day Christmas miracle, I don't know what is. 

This is what happened:  six months ago, a man reached the most desperate moment in his life.  He was out of work.  He had no food for his family.  He had no money.  So he did something he never thought he would do:  one night, he took a baseball bat and went out to a convenience store, intent on robbing it for cash. 

That same night, a convenience store owner was closing up shop, getting ready to head home to his family, when a stranger burst through the door, weilding a bat and demanding money.  The store owner grabbed an unloaded rifle he kept behind the counter and leveled it at the would-be thief, forcing him to drop to the floor.

And then the thief started crying.  He begged the store owner for his life.  He said his family was hungry.  He begged the owner not to turn him over to the police. 

In an act that defies logic and common sense and all the self-protective instinct and training that one would assume the store owner would have, the owner put away his gun, made the thief promise never to rob anyone ever again, and then gave the man $40 and a loaf of bread.  The thief thanked him, and said he wished he could be like him someday.  The store owner was a religious man, so he prayed for a blessing for the thief.  He then went to the back of the store for a gallon of milk for the thief's family, but by the time he returned, the would-be robber was gone.  And the store owner never heard from him again.  Until the letter came.

On Wednesday this week, the store owner received a letter in the mail containing $50 and thanking him for his act of compassion.  Thanking him for saving a desperate man from a life of crime.

This is a modern day miracle, if I've ever heard of one. 

I wanted to highlight that religion played a part in this story because the store owner is Muslim, and in the thank-you letter, the repentant thief says he has found Allah (the Islamic version of God) since that moment in the store.  He is working and providing for his family, and living his life as a good man, based entirely on that moment in the store when he encountered the kindness of a stranger and the love of God.

These days, we hear a lot about violent, extremist Muslims bent on war, and it seems some people believe that's the only type of Muslim that exists.  (Much like during WW II, when Japanese Americans were rounded up into internment camps because the prevailing perception then was that every Japanese person was "the enemy".)  There are good people and there are desperate people, and there are people bent on war.  They come in all different colors and creeds.  And this story is just one example of that truth, coming to you straight from Long Island, New York.

To me, this is about compassion and love and hope and redemption.  I'm not a religious person, but I like to believe that if God exists, it is in these moments, these types of acts.  The phrase in Islam is Allah hu Akbar.... God is great.  Even an agnostic like me can say "Amen!" to that.

(And even though I just told you the story, I encourage you to click on the link and watch the video interview with the store owner.  His re-telling of that night will charm you into tears and warm your heart.)

In Memoriam: The MaryMadeline Project

Those of you who followed BabyQuest know that I have depended heavily in the last several years on an online community of women undergoing infertility treatments.  Now I'm part of a parallel online community of the women who have gone on to become mothers, whether through successful infertility treatment, adoption, or spontaneous good luck.  Most of us will never meet, and yet there is a strong bond that I feel with these women.  We've supported each other through years of hope and disappointment, during fights with insurance companies and jargon-laden consultations with doctors.  We've celebrated each other's pregnancies, and every baby born to a woman in that community has about 100 online aunties waiting to see their next photograph and hear about their next milestone.  Those women are my sisters-in-arms.

Today, my heart is heavy, because one of our members is burying her child.  Baby June was born three weeks ago with a rare genetic disorder.  Her parents were told from June's first day on earth that she would not be with them for long.  The strength and love that they have demonstrated in the face of this tragedy are truly inspirational.  They relied on their faith and some unfathomable innate strength, and they rejoiced at June's birth each day of her short life, using every moment with her as a chance to show her their love.  Today, as they bury her, they celebrate her life, short as it was.

Molly, June's mother, keeps a blog.  On it, Molly wrote that a friend had found an organization that creates and donates burial gowns for infants.  Molly wrote about the happiness she felt in having a beautiful gown for her daughter, and the relief of not having to go out and find a gown on her own.  She asked for support for this group, so that other families experiencing such loss could receive the same comfort she did.

The nonprofit group that created Baby June's gown is called The Mary Madeline Project.  They use donated wedding gowns. 

My own wedding gown has been preserved in my attic for almost 10 years now.  I never knew what to do with it.  Now I know.  If you still have your dress and are so inclined, please go to www.marymadelineproject.org and donate yours as well.  Or mention it the next time someone you know asks what to do with their gown.  It may feel a little strange to suggest, but just think of the comfort you can bring to some parents' life.

And please say a special prayer today for Baby June and her amazing family.

Love Thursday: For Dad

With Father's Day coming up this weekend (that's right!  Get those cards in the mail!), I decided nothing could be a more appropriate topic for a Love Thursday post.

Let me tell you about my Dad.  He's stubborn.  He's really smart.  He has a big laugh and a really nice singing voice.  Sometimes, he's very cranky.  He's often sentimental.  He's always principled.  He gets outraged when he sees something he thinks isn't right, and he takes action to fix it.

I am always cognizant of how much of my personality is based on my relationship with my father, and on his example.  Let me tell you a few stories to illustrate.  When I was a little girl, my Dad was this all-powerful authority figure who worked all week, but always had time for play on the weekends.  In the summers, he would join my mom and brothers and me at the pool on the weekends, and let us climb all over him.  My favorite game was to swim up behind him and catch his hands.  He would submerge himself underwater, holding my hands so that I could scramble onto his shoulders; then he would jump back up out of the water, launching me across the pool into the deep end.  I can so intensely remember the feeling of his hot skin, slimy with sunscreen, my feet sliding around on his shoulders, and sailing airborne, clear across the pool, in complete and utter freedom.  I learned that hard work creates security, but that the best part of the week is when you get to splash around and laugh with the ones you love the most.  And his strong shoulders supported me in a million other ways as I grew up.

Now I'm too big to play that game.  But I would if I still could.  :)

Let me tell you another story.  When I signed up for Little League for the first time, the school had created a baseball team for the boys, and a softball team for the girls.  I think I was about 6 years old at the time.  When my father learned of this situation, he very loudly insisted that I play on the team with the boys.  HIS girl was taller than most of those little runts, could run faster, and was NOT going to be discriminated against.  While it was true that I was taller and faster than most kids my age, it also turns out that I sucked at baseball; but for the rest of my life, I felt entitled to play with the boys. 

That may have caused some problems for him later, when I got to be a teen-ager.  I inherited his stubborn streak and, having been told at a young age that I could do anything I put my mind to, put that into quite literal practice as a young adult.

One more story.  After I graduated from college, I didn't live in the same state as my parents for 15 years.  I wasn't even within driving distance for half of those years.  So we saw each other rarely, maybe twice a year.  Whenever we did, Dad would well up with tears, pinch my cheek, and envelop me in a bear hug.  In 2008, my parents moved to Virginia, and we're now only about a 45-minute drive from each other.  We now see each other every couple weeks.  And every time, my Dad wells up a little bit, pinches my cheek and envelops me in a big bear hug.

Dad, you couldn't have done a better job.  I love you.

Happy Love Thursday.  For the original Love Thursday post, clicke here.