Here's to all those snow blower super heroes

Not a stitch of snow...

Maybe there are guys or gals like him in your neighbourhood, too. You know, the ones who might be recently retired, and who also recently remembered the leaf blower/snow blower that hasn't seen enough use. And hey, now that they're retired, they have time to go out and clear those sidewalks of every last bit of snow, even as it's falling... and they seem to enjoy doing it!

I'll be the first to admit that it hasn't been our snowiest winter on record. I'm actually a bit worried about a dry spring. Even so, we've been happily watching our super snow blower man lately because not only are his own sidewalks completely clear of snow and ice, but he's been out with every dusting of snow, blowing off everyone else's walks, too. He clears his own driveway, the walks of his blind neighbour, and the newly widowed elderly lady who lives the next door down -- and then he keeps on going. On Saturday, when the snow was deepest, he blew a path down the middle of the sidewalks all the way around our little area park (past about twenty homes), and our neighbour, thinking the snow blower was done, cleaned up the edges in front of our two homes. That's when super snow blower guy came by a second time and obliterated the thin skiff that the shovel couldn't get! I guess his machine had more juice than he thought, and he just kept on going, leaving not a stitch of snow behind.

Several times of late, seeing and hearing him coming, I stood at the front window to wave my thanks, but he's a heads-down, hard-working super snow blower guy who is so focused on his work that he never looks up to see my gratitude (or maybe the snow gets in his eyes). So I stuck my head out the front door, but he was already moving on, the noise of the machine preventing my voice from reaching his ears. Of course, I know where my snow blower super hero lives, and I vow to leave him some of this year's first batch of fresh backyard berry jam when the time comes...

Here's to the super snow blower people, the neighbours who clear other people's walks, or brush off their cars, or pick up litter, or perform nearly unnoticed acts of kindness just because they can. You know who you are, and you deserve better than berry jam. Thanks for all you do!

Two hugs

Art by Mimi Noland, from The Hug Therapy Book
(Compcare 1983, ISBN 0-89638-065-3)

I like to think of myself as a giver of hugs, but this week, I was definitely the recipient.

On Sunday evening, our Taizé prayer group led our annual Prayer for Peace at a downtown church, a place we'd never prayed before. We arrived an hour early to set up and were met by the minister and a young man who helped us get organized. Richard was most anxious to be of assistance, and went out of his way to be hospitable in every possible way.

Toward the end of the evening, I thanked him for all he had done. "How about the snacks? Were they okay?" "Excellent," I said, and gave him a thumbs up.

When the time came for us to go home, I went to thank the minister with a hug, and Richard stepped across to hug me, too. It was totally unexpected, but much appreciated, and on the way home, I found myself moodling about how we can meet strangers for a short time and never really know how much we'll impact one another. Clearly, something I had done or said touched Richard, and his hug touched me, too. I won't forget that moment.

Then, this morning, Suzanna and I returned to L'Arche for the first time since she left the Community Centre to start university. Usually, Thomas is there to pepper us with questions as we walk in the door, but today, Darren spotted us coming first and hustled over to give us both hugs in his most unusual way.

Hugging Darren is a bit like hugging a porcupine -- it's very careful, and you can't get too close. He sort of stretches his hands out and puts them gently around a person's neck. Today, when his hands were around my neck, he sort of snuggled in just a tiny bit, and I found myself kissing him on the forehead, my eyes filling with tears, as it was only the second time I've ever received a hug from him. He did the same to Suzanna, whom he had never hugged before.

Darren is a non-verbal man with autism, and Suzanna and I have come and gone from the Community Centre many times without him paying any notice. But today he was clearly very happy to see us!

It's been a Novemberish week, grey and cloudy, but well-placed hugs are definitely a ray of sunshine.

*I use pseudonyms for all my L'Arche friends.