This week’s blog is dedicated with deep gratitude to my dear friend, Pat Petroline; aka Doc, Momma Patti, Miss Lu, LuLu Yang-Master Chef.
Making a critical mistake is like getting bit in the butt by a dog . . . you don’t see it coming, you feel the shock of realization, the horrible pain upon infliction, and unless you’re simply unlucky enough to be a random target, you should probably limp away having learned a lesson.
We seldom get a do-over.
Saturday I took a three hour journey across the State of Michigan on a less-than-desirable emotional task of sorts. Without prompting, my friend, Patti, offered to accompany me. I cried during most of the drive.
We arrived, tended to my dreaded personal business, and began the three-hour drive home. I cried during most of the drive back too.
After a restless night, I awoke on Sunday morning in a terrible panic. I telephoned Patti and hysterically screamed that I had to return. I had made an awful mistake and had lost something very precious.
Fifteen minutes later we were on yet another three-hour trek.
We arrived on the western coast of Michigan, managed to un-do my previous day’s doings, and retrieved what I thought was priceless and forever lost.
Yet again, we took one final trip back to Southeastern Michigan. This time we laughed the whole way home.
Two days, twelve hours of driving, and 800 miles later, I walked away having learned two really amazing things:
ONE: Recognizing a mistake is the first step to learning from it. And sometimes, if you are quick enough and lucky enough, you get a do-over. But you have to try or you will never know.
TWO: My friend Patti is a one of a kind blessing.
When I called on her for help for the second time, she did NOT say that she was busy with weekend holiday plans, or that she was tired from her busy week at work. She did NOT say that she was needed at home with her family, or that she just couldn’t handle another six-hour trip. She did NOT complain once during the entire two-day fiasco, and she NEVER called me crazy or irrational or stupid for making the mistake that started it all.
No, when I called her, sobbing and screaming, “I have to go back now! Can you come? Can you come, please? How soon can you get here?”
Her calm and simple reply was, “I’m on my way. All I have to do is put on my shoes.”
And that was that. No questions and no judgment.
I love her so much for that. I wish I could adequately show my gratitude by buying her something special . . . like a house! LoL.
Patti, thank you will never seem sufficient. And nothing you ask of me will ever be too big.
A rare and special friend.
And a labor of love . . .