There are times when, though I can’t explain why, I’m led to do something. Trying to ignore that prompting turns the small quite voice within me into a shouting demon that refuses to be ignored. Today was one of those occasions.
Though I had a hectic schedule, made even more involved when I received phone calls from my grandfather who informed me that he might well be arriving to stay with us as of tomorrow, I had the driving urge to go and get a pedicure.
A pedicure? Really? I don’t have time for that.
Looking down at my toes, I also realized that the one I had was just fine, in fact, without a flaw.
Hmmm….
So, I ignored the prompting and continued on with my tasks. But the voice within me grew in volume. Again, I tried to push it aside, reasoning that getting a pedicure was not on my agenda today. Though it defied reason and practicality, my urge to go to a specific salon to get a pedicure—today—screamed at a deafening volume, effectively blocking out all other thoughts, until I could think of nothing else.
Fine, I’ll go and get a pedicure!
Dropping my son at home after picking him up from school, I headed to the nail place. On the way, I viewed the clock and realized that if all went expediently at the salon, I would be done in time to get to my class an hour later. Then…my cell phone rang. Picking it up, my son, who I’d just dropped off, informed me that he had no way to get into the house.
Ugh! Are you kidding me?
Glancing at the clock again, I made a quick calculation, and came to the conclusion that having to go and let my son in would make me run late. But I sucked it up, made a U-turn when possible and headed back to the house.
Arriving at the salon a short time later, I noticed that all but one chair was occupied. Counting the number of employees working, I realized that I’d have to wait. Tempted to turn and leave so I wouldn’t be late to my class, the voice within me demanded that I stay put and wait.
This makes no sense. If I leave, I can come back another day and still make it to my class today.
But the voice inside me would have none of it, again, insisting that I remain where I was and wait…no matter how long it took.
Long ago, I learned to listen to this voice as it always has a purpose, leading me into situations I’m meant to be a part of. So, I submitted my will, stopped looking at my watch and settled in for the duration.
A woman, who had given me pedicures before, called me over, a sweet smile on her face, though she looked tired. I like this woman—an immigrant from Vietnam of five years. In the past, I’d noticed that she was shy and reluctant to converse with the customers who she worked on, as her English would sometimes falter and those customers would become frustrated.
The first time she gave me a pedicure, I took my time talking with her. Getting to know her. Instilling confidence that she could take as much time as needed to convey her thoughts without my passing judgment on English being her second language. Since then, we’ve enjoyed many conversations and have learned much about one another.
Today’s topics of discussion had to do with family—hers and mine. Longevity. What factors into it. Quality of life. How to optimize one’s chances for it.
We talked about growing up. How many siblings we each have. What cultural differences there are between Vietnam and the United States. What advantages there are to living here, especially for one’s health. How proper nutrition and vitamins are fairly regular parts of our daily U.S. lives, but how in Vietnam, that isn’t the case. Having been very poor, according to her, she told how it was tough on her mother’s body, having endured eleven full-term pregnancies while eating an insufficient diet to even sustain her. As a result, her body lacked the vitamins and calcium needed. The result? Over time, bone deterioration.
Her mother, now seventy, is living here in the U.S. with her. We discussed the elderly in our families. The length of time each has lived. What quality of life they’ve experienced in their latter years. The woman shared how her mother, though in good physical condition, couldn’t walk very far without being in great pain. It was then that it became clear to me why I had been driven to come to this salon—today—to get a pedicure.
It wasn’t the service that I needed. Instead, I wasn’t to miss the rare opportunity to try to help this woman’s mother, a stranger, whose condition touched my heart. The woman and I continued to talk on and on, me no longer intent to go to my class. I listened, asked questions, listened more and then offered a few suggestions, realizing that I’d been given a great gift to help. That my extensive research for the articles I write on health, fitness, natural remedies and running could help increase the mother’s quality of life. And so, I shared what I knew.
As the two of us conversed, the woman’s look transformed from that of being tired to one of hope. I gave her one of my business cards, writing down the names of several natural remedies that would help her mother. The woman thanked me profusely, and I smiled in return.
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