Collaborating Testimony

I have always thought of my BBL as an angel (well, at least most of the time). She came home last week with a letter that had been sent to the hospital by a patient she had briefly interacted with.
“Three days until Christmas and nine days before my scheduled surgery, I found myself at the pre-op appointment at the hospital. It was the third hour taking care of the business at hand and I was growing weary, but this was my last stop. This particular nurse was asking questions regarding my health history and, as her fingers typed feverishly on the keyboard, I couldn’t help but notice a silver ring on her little finger. From my vantage point it looked like a small angel charm dangled from the ring. It was the smallest charm I’d ever seen, and the angel appeared to be holding a trumpet. I answered her questions without too much effort but was mesmerized by her ring.”
“Abruptly, my eyes were removed from the ring as she turned toward me waiting for an answer to her last question. I paused for a second but knew no other way to answer except to honestly say, ‘I don’t recall much about myself at that time of my life because my middle son had just passed away from cancer and I was grieving.’ She turned even more to face me and gently asked what form of cancer. I replied, ‘Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma; he was about to turn 21 when he passed away. He was an A&M student when he …’ And by that point the tears spilled out and I began sobbing, Just thinking back to that time … in the grip of the darkest season of my life, produced such intense pain and sadness. The nurse graciously shared that no mother should ever have to endure such pain.”
“For some reason, I told her that I’d been staring at her angel ring and that I wanted to buy myself one like it—that I believed in angels. Without hesitation, she shocked me when she spoke: ‘Please take my ring—I want you to have it! This angel charm isn’t even made anymore.’ I argued that I had no intention of taking her ring, but she softly said, “I haven’t worn this ring in a long time. I don’t know why I wore it today, so it must have been to give it to you. Please, have my ring.’ She took it off her little finger and I tried it on mine…it fit perfectly.”
“We completed the questions and stood up. We hugged. She was my nurse, my friend and my angel that day – and she had no idea that I had prayed to God that morning desiring more of Him and a strong sense of my son’s presence in my life that day.”
That’s my BBL. 
1/24/11 edit: corrected typo "harm" to "charm"

Spirit of St. Louis

Less than ninety days ago, it wouldn’t have entered my wildest dreams (not that I have that many anymore) that I would ever spend a Christmas in St. Louis. My visit there awakened some good, and some sad, memories.

In November, our Denver-based number one son moved East to Lucky Lindy’s hometown in order to join a firmly rooted Western based financial firm (whose motto is “Together We’ll Go Far.”) Fulfilling the “together” role, Dr. S(O) also made the same journey (we will not speculate on who followed whom). Faced with the prospect of not having our kids together with us on Christmas morn, my BBL artfully wrangled an invitation for us to visit the new transplants. And so we did -- and had a great time. Then, on the day after Christmas, my Blackberry calendar reminded me that John, my St. Louis friend/associate, had died nine years ago.

In the 27 years I served as a region manager, St. Louis had been in-and-out of my geographical sales “responsibility” at least three times. During one of those touch points in the 1990’s, it represented the best market share area in my region, if not in the entire nation. Certainly not because of me, but most certainly because of John.

I remember that John almost didn’t get hired by my company. The region manager who was trying to hire him confided that he was very worried that the current perceptions of what a sales rep should look or be like (young, athletic ie. run/play tennis, etc.) would wash him out during the HQ interview process. He shouldn’t have worried so much, because the guy who looked like a balding fireplug proved to be the sparkplug most of us would come to admire. As evidence, I remember that John’s name, when mentioned during national sales meetings would elicit a spontaneous karaoke version of Volare – a close approximation of his surname.

Confident. Intelligent. Engaging. Cognizant of “the little people” in any organization. Independent. Principled. Loyal. Seeing/Using Humor. Organized. Networking for the good of all. Devoted to family/friends/associates. All attributes of John – and every other person I know or have known from this city. Perhaps all represent the true “Spirit of St. Louis”.