My kids and I were in Union Station about to board an Amtrak train from Chicago to Royal Oak, Michigan, a six-hour trip. The line was packed with noisy, impatient college students about to go home for their winter break, and they kept pushing us forward. My older kids (14 and 10) and I were each pulling a suitcase, and we had coats and backpacks, while Julia (age 1) was in a stroller. We were all cranky because we disliked this trip, which was to see my mother, who had had a stroke that had changed her personality. Not a pleasant trip to Grandma’s house.
Did that woman know how her simple act of kindness turned our entire situation around?
The last time we took the trip, I forgot to get coffee, and I spent six miserable headachy hours on the train, so this time I bought myself the 20-ounce size in a covered Styrofoam cup, which I was precariously holding with three fingers while the other two were on the stroller handle. Because of my coffee, James INSISTED that he had to get a 20-ounce lemonade. So there I was, actually juggling TWO 20-ounce drinks, a suitcase, a stroller, and a coat. I couldn’t trust James to hold a drink because often, due to his autism, he would forget he was holding something and simply drop it. And I couldn’t put the drinks in Julia’s lap because she was too young, so I should have thrown them away. But damn it, I couldn’t face another six (or possibly eight) hours of misery.
As I was trying to figure out a way to deal with all this, the conductor opened the gate, and the mob surged forward. If we didn’t surge with them, we wouldn’t get two rows of facing seats together—no mean feat—but I couldn’t hang on to the drinks and the handles of the stroller and my suitcase and my coat all at once and move, without the risk of dropping one or both cups on Julia’s head, where the thin lids would undoubtedly come off and scald and/or drench her. But as the crowd pushed on us, I was still juggling everything, still figuring out what to do.
The college students gave us annoyed looks and started walking around us, but instead of moving, I suddenly froze. I couldn’t move; I couldn’t even think. So there we were in a stalled huddle while my kids kept insisting, “C’mon, Mom! Common! We gotta move!” But I just felt overwhelmed. I didn’t want to be a mom anymore. I just wanted someone to take care of the whole situation.
I looked around and noticed that an old Amish couple was sitting on a bench calmly watching us, probably with amusement. The woman looked my way, and I found myself appealing to her with my eyes, transmitting a non-verbal “Help me, Mom. I’m stuck. What should I do?” She glanced at her husband knowingly, then reached down and picked up an empty cardboard drink container designed for 20-ounce cups, and she quietly handed it to me. Suddenly the whole situation was under control. I secured the drinks in the sturdy container, whose handle I could hold with two fingers while the other three fingers held one stroller handle, with no risk of spilling anything all over Julia, and the other hand was free to hold the suitcase and the coat and the other stroller handle. I smiled and shouted “Thank you!” over my shoulder as the mob surged again and carried us away.
We got on the train, we sat together, we enjoyed our drinks, and I kept reflecting on that old couple. What did they think of us with all our suitcases and our stuff and our crankiness? Did the woman know how her simple act of kindness turned our entire situation around? Now, whenever I am in a difficult situation, I still try to think of a simple “Amish” solution, and sometimes I even succeed.
Joan Matthews
Lovely story, Joan. That was, indeed, a simple solution to your unenviable task. That wise couple helped you enormously in a great way. I’ve done similar juggles, but not on a train, only on a plane, where they let me board first, so didn’t have to deal with that crowd surge, but I can appreciate your feeling of being overwhelmed. Glad it all worked out and now you can try to think of “Amish ways” to problem solve.
Thanks Betsy! I really wanted to tell that story for a long time, so I’m glad we both came up with the prompt. In my mind, I can still see the woman’s face and the quick glance she gave her husband. I’m grateful, too, that they chose to buy 20-ounce drinks and had already consumed them. Sometimes fate works in strange and beneficial ways. God sure wanted me to have that coffee.
I remember that train ride well, Joan. I love how your random act of kindness was actually quite random and a small but meaningful kindness. When parents are struggling to manage their children, how nice the world would be if instead of dirty looks, someone asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Thanks, Laurie! So you know about that six-hour train ride that sometimes took ten or more hours. One time, the train struck and killed a homeless man who had been living on a narrow bridge along the track. Apparently, he woke up and stretched right when the train was going by, and he was killed. It took Amtrak hours and hours to get the police there, get a new crew, and get going again. It was very sad that someone didn’t convince the man to relocate his position.
I love having the whole abstract notion of an unexpected act of kindness translated into one very concrete image of a cardboard drink holder. You captured the moment and the attendant emotions with vivid descriptive detail. Well done!
Thanks, Dale! It was one of those moments where everything just came together, after they were threatening to totally fall apart.
Joan, I love this story SO MUCH! You describe your situation so well that I actually feel like I am there, with the drinks, the stroller, the suitcase, the coats, the crankiness, and the impatient college students. And your featured image is perfect too, it’s as if you stopped to take the picture in the middle of all the chaos, lol. And then such a simple act by the Amish woman, but it made all the difference. A perfect story for this prompt!
Thanks, Suzy, and thank you for approving the prompt! It was fun to relive that moment, and as I was writing this story, it occurred to me that I probably didn’t realize how much my mother’s decline had affected me. She had always been the matriarch, MY mommy, who took command during a crisis, but now I was expected to be the matriarch and I wasn’t up to the challenge. I think that’s why that old Amish woman’s steady gaze and calm Mom demeanor drew my eyes to her. And wouldn’t you know it, she saved the day, the way moms usually do.
It’s a gift to be simple. Don’t know if that’s Amish or Shaker, but it sums up this really nice story, Joan. Even though I don’t have kids, I can empathize with what you went through, and it’s clear that the Amish woman did as well.
Thanks, Marian! It is a Shaker tune, which Aaron Copeland incorporated into his “Appalachian Spring” and promptly turned into a dozen very complicated variations. But the Amish woman certainly did have a gift to be simple, something that my overloaded family did not share at the time.
Thanx Joan for this perfect example of the universality of a woman’s needs and of another woman’s understanding and kindness – with no words needed!
Thanks, Joan, for a beautifully written, perfect story. I’m struck by how simplicity is a characteristic of so many random acts of kindness. It doesn’t take much, but it means so much.
Hi, Barbara! I just saw your comment early Friday morning, so I apologize for not acknowledging it and replying sooner. This has been quite a week! It is amazing how a simple adjustment in action or even thinking can sometimes change everything. It would be nice if all complicated situations could be like that.
Thanks, Dana! You are very right–women pitch in and help each other, often by instinct. Now when I see young moms struggling with their children, I always offer to help. Even though those days are way in the past for me, the emotions are still crystal clear. I still don’t feel like “the matriarch,” but maybe my mother and grandmother secretly had their own self-doubts, but hid them well.
Ah Joan, I think you’re right.
Our mothers and grandmothers seemed so wise but surely they had the same self-doubts we did – the human condition!