Even when it comes in small doses, satisfaction is something to savor

A friend saw me standing alone in the hallway and stepped over to shake my hand.

“Good morning! How are you?”

“I’m doing OK,” I said with a smile that was an effort to hide the fact that I wasn’t really doing that well at all. For no particular reason, a wave of sadness had accompanied me on our drive to church.

“Are you waiting for your bride?” I was a few steps away from the women’s restroom. “Do you need me to send my wife in to check on her?”

“If she doesn’t come out in a few minutes, yes, I’d be glad if your wife could make sure she’s OK.”

He took a step away and then came back. “You’re a good man,” he said.

I smiled again, embarrassed. There’s a lot to know besides what he reads in my blog.

“I mean it,” he said before he turned away. “A really good man.”

His comment buoyed me through the morning. I was ready to engage with the friends in our Bible class, and Evelyn seemed to enjoy the whole hour, too.

I was satisfied.

I won’t forget

Last week’s post considered the possibility of satisfaction when happiness isn’t possible and ongoing contentment seems elusive. I’m grateful to remember more than one time lately I felt truly satisfied.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the good care Evelyn is receiving from both of her doctors. I want to share one more detail from our visit with her neurologist. We spoke with him at least 30 minutes, clarifying next steps and getting help with our present reality. As I said in my post, more than once he discussed strategies he would have pursued two years ago, but now is the time simply to relax.

In other words, trying harder won’t make things better. As the meaning sunk in, my voice broke and my smile faded. Then something remarkable happened.

He had been face-to-face with Evelyn throughout the visit, but when he saw my emotion he rolled his chair in front of me and looked me in the eye. “This is hard,” he said. “We know this is hard.” He reached out with one hand and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’re doing a good job.”

I relaxed, regained my composure, and took a deep breath. His affirmation sustained me for many days; in fact, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I was satisfied.

Peace like a river

A week ago our daughter was here for the weekend, and she worked outside all Saturday afternoon painting our garage door trim. I tried to occupy and settle Evelyn by playing a YouTube video featuring beautiful scenery and a wispy soprano singing old hymns.

Just before supper I sat with her on the couch and sang one of the hymns with her. (She almost always sings along, especially when the words are on the screen as they were with this one.)

We’ve never been a couple to spend hours holding hands or snuggling while we watched TV. Evelyn has always liked her space. But that afternoon I put my arm around her, and she shifted closer.

When peace like a river attendeth my way.
When sorrows, like sea billows, roll,

She laid her head on my shoulder and relaxed.

Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

I became as calm as she was. And in the warmth of the moment, I was satisfied.

Photo by PeopleImages at istockphoto.com