Life is a series of tests that take various shapes and forms. Some tests involve people. Others are about places or situations. Many of them are complex, have numerous dimensions, and seem to never end. The short ones demand quick responses.
Some of life’s tests that come my way, I pass. Many of them I do not. Those I fail, life makes me retake until I pass them. The events of this day test me. Read on to see whether I pass or fail?
Temperatures are in the high sixties. The sun is bright. Puffy-clouds lazily float above the mountains. A perfect day for Elk Fest, the annual transition to fall and celebration of Estes Park’s signature wildlife and natural beauty.
Bond Park, the epicenter of Elk Fest, has 43 booths, hundreds of people and, ironically, no elk. There is barely room for any of us people to walk, let alone park cars and find food to eat. Proof that the thousands of elk who populate the Rocky Mountain region are more intelligent than those of us who are attending the fest in their honor.
Bzzt Bzzzt! Bzzt Bzzzt! I look at my iPhone. Caller-ID shows a call from Fran, my friend. The commotion of the fest makes answering her call impossible. Since she seldom calls me, it must be important. Feeling an urgency to call Fran, I wiggle myself through the crowd, going past one booth then another and another, until I reach the west side of the Town Hall. There, in an oasis of quiet, I press re-call. Fran answers. She starts talking. I was correct, the call is important—health issues.
While listening to Fran describe her impending surgery, I notice a steady stream of people coming in and out of the Town Hall building. It soon becomes apparent that they are not going into the building to do business with the town. Rather they are going in to do their business. As some pass by me, a few nod at me. The looks of relief on their faces confirm—business done.
As Fran and I continue talking, a woman leaves the building. I nod at her. She politely nods back. As she passes, my eyes follow. I notice that the back of her skirt is tucked into her navy blue tights. Her hind-side, though covered by the tights, is more visible to the world than she would want.
My mind is in overdrive. I think about asking Fran how to handle the situation. But there is no time. Why should I care? I consider letting the woman go on, back to the fest, where surely someone will inform her. Suddenly, the woman stops to comb her hair. She looks at me, our eyes connect. Oh my, what do I do?
Without thinking, I point to my hip. She looks down, at her hip. Mortified, she lets the comb drop to the sidewalk. Her face reddens, as her hands pull the tucked-in portion of the skirt from her tights. It falls in place.
The woman looks around. No one, except me, saw her hind-side. Her dignity preserved, she looks at me. Her lips mouth the words T H A N K – Y O U. I nod. No smile, laugh or smart remark, just a nod. Knowing that this test need never be taken again.
Later, heading home, walking along MacGregor Avenue, on the outskirts of Estes, I watch a herd of elk in a field. Munching grass—nothing more, nothing less—they are living in the moment. What comes their way, they take in stride. Each moment is their festival.
Nearing home, with night settling in, I think about the speed of life. How choosing to go to the park, the commotion there, and an unscheduled phone call brought me together with a woman, whose skirt is in her tights. The way her moment of need bound us together. How in an instant her drama became my test. How an instant later, her drama, and my test are over. The way each of us goes on with our respective lives.
Walking up the driveway, the North Star captures my attention. She reminds me that the tests of life make us better people. How true, false, or multiple-choice answers are insufficient. Only answers of the heart—manifest through thoughts, actions, and deeds—will suffice.
Unlocking the front door, I pause. In that moment, I realize the tests are part of the festival of our lives. The foibles that the tests force us to experience, add color and meaning to the events and traditions in which we partake. The connections they forge enrich us. Through them we celebrate our commonality and honor our diversity.
Entering my house, I say a prayer of thanks for the tests of this day. And ask that more tests come my way tomorrow. Then I say the same prayer for you. As I do, a nearby elk bugles…Amen.
Note: This is the 18th post in the Learning Lessons series. Please click the subscribe button on the right side of the blog page to be notified of future posts.