Always one thing or another
By Janice Lindsay
Contributing Writer
This greeting card is a black and white photo of a toddler in his footie pajamas. He stands at the bottom of a carpeted staircase, leaning to rest his forehead softly on the edge of the third step, his hands clasped behind him. He is a picture of quiet frustration. The message reads, “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. Hang in there.”
A friend in Philadelphia sent this card to me twenty years ago. I don’t remember why. It might have been to boost my spirits as I fretted about upcoming medical tests, which, ultimately, turned out to be not much to worry about.
Some time later, when she needed a morale boost amidst a small life crisis, I sent “our little guy” back to her.
And so it has gone, back and forth, sometimes with a short time lapse, sometimes a long one. The little guy has sojourned several times at my house, several times at hers. We eventually filled all the writing space inside the card. Then it held sticky notes, then sticky notes on top of sticky notes.
I don’t know how long our saga will go on. Who knows when our little guy will be needed? He is currently with my friend.
I remember sending it to her to cheer her after a fall where she broke two fingers. But mostly, as I reviewed all the notes before mailing it the last time, I could not recall exactly what challenge prompted each journey of the card.
Maybe this is a good thing. The little guy reminds us that when we meet with minor problems and challenges, we figure out how to deal with them, or if we’re lucky they go away, and we move on. The mountain that might have seemed insurmountable when it was in the future, is now a forgettable part of the past.
The little guy also reminds us that life is not intended to be trouble-free. As the card says, it’s always one thing or another. We’re meant to fully experience all its ups and downs and, ideally, use them to learn, and to increase in understanding and wisdom, whether we like it or not.
Each time I received the card, it reminded me that a friend wished me well and kept me in her thoughts. She understood what I was going through and would help if she could. And it reminded me to be grateful for the continuity of those friendships that sustain us over the years and decades.
When the little guy has been in my office at the beginning of any year, on the bookcase opposite my desk, he has reminded me of my presumption in planning far ahead. In my calendar, I mark meetings that will occur the first Saturday of every month; volunteer obligations every Monday afternoon and every Thursday afternoon; reminders of when to get my car inspected and pay my taxes; birthdays and anniversaries; doctor appointments made months ahead. What an assumption—to believe that I will be around to see all those events. I don’t write blithely or with full confidence, but cautiously, with a silent “the good Lord willin’ and the crick don’t rise.”
So far, the crick hasn’t risen high enough to drown all my plans, and when the crick has risen, I’ve figured out how to stay afloat until it has calmed down.
And the little guy is waiting, in case I need him.
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