I was at the desk when a middle-aged woman with a southern accent walked slowly up. “Excuse me. I need to get on a computer, can you help me?”
“Sure. Do you have a library card here? That’s what we use for computer access.”
She hesitated and laid down her thick folder of papers. “Well, I’m from out of town, but I own property here. Can I get a library card?”
I explained that she could go either way. If she had her property tax bill, she could get a regular library card, but if she had an out of town ID, she could have a computer pass.
“I have the tax bill with me, but I’m not sure I have the time today. Can I do it next time I come in?” she asked.
“Of course!” I said. “Whatever works best for you.”
“Thank you so much. Here’s my ID."
“Great!” I said. I made her a card and registered it. “Here’s your card, it’s good for a month,” and I explained to her how to use it.
She smiled and thanked me, then stood still, just looking at me.
“I so appreciate you helping me,” she finally said. “You have been so kind, explaining all this to me, and giving me your time.” She stopped. “You didn’t ask, but I’ll tell you, I don’t know why. Did you hear about the graduate student who was killed recently?”
I nodded my head.
“I’m her mother."
Oh. Oh, dear.
"I’m here to....close up the house, and take care of things.”
I put my hand on her arm. “Oh, ma’m, I’m so sorry."
She nodded her head, and her eyes filled with tears. “That’s why I appreciate your help so much. This is a....hard time.”
I squeezed her arm, but didn’t say anything, as my own eyes were full by this time. She smiled sadly, gathered her papers, and turned toward the computers.
The point of the story is this: I did nothing for that woman that I haven’t done for hundreds of other people this year. I have given the same explanation, spent the same amount of time, used the same tone of voice, given them all the same access to the computers. But to this woman, me just doing my job was a grace.
You can do it, too, no matter what your job is. Do it so that it is a grace, if only to yourself. Just be aware, realize: no matter how many hundreds of times, you do not know what THIS time could mean to someone else.
I've been reading "The Gift" by Lewis Hyde. If you haven't read it, you should. You'd recognize yourself in it.
Posted by: T Scott | December 01, 2009 at 11:06 AM
I'll check it out, T.!
FGL
Posted by: feelgoodlibrarian | December 01, 2009 at 02:36 PM
Thank you for the reminder.
Posted by: Susan B | December 02, 2009 at 02:54 PM
wow how sad for that woman. When did this happen?
Posted by: Mary | December 04, 2009 at 05:59 PM
I spoke with her in October, I believe. I don't know exactly when her daughter died - earlier in the year.
Posted by: feelgoodlibrarian | December 10, 2009 at 03:39 PM
Grace touches you and the patron, sometimes. Welcome back to blogging! We all need your reminders how important it is to treat people like human beings, and to be present with them.
Posted by: Elena Filios | December 13, 2009 at 07:31 AM
I was so pleased to discover you are back! Your posts inspire, teach, and are a joy to read. Merry Christmas and welcome back!
Posted by: Linda Nelson | December 16, 2009 at 08:12 AM
Thank you, Elena and Linda!
Posted by: feelgoodlibrarian | December 17, 2009 at 05:37 PM
I'm so glad to see you back! Your posts always inspire me to be a better librarian (and a better person). Why we do this, indeed. Thank you.
Posted by: Susan | December 17, 2009 at 10:19 PM
Thank you, Susan!
Posted by: feelgoodlibrarian | December 19, 2009 at 06:12 AM