A Mother's Day Moment

Several weeks ago, I started re-listening to a Wayne Dyer audiobook, a compilation of clips from his many programs and talks over the years. For those unfamiliar with him, Wayne was a self-help author of more than 40 books over his 40-year career, including 21 New York Times bestsellers. Wayne, a funny, dynamic motivational speaker, produced popular specials for PBS and gave lectures worldwide to spread his message of self-reliance and spirituality.

My best friend introduced me to one of Wayne's lectures on YouTube in the spring of 2015, about nine months after my wife Kristy passed away, and I instantly connected with him. I quickly devoured several of his books and watched all of his TV specials.

Wayne passed away later that summer at the age of 75. But I was fortunate that Wayne hadn't "died with his music still in him" and had produced so much material in his life that I could now reference as I processed my wife's passing.

Every so often, I feel called to check in again with Wayne. And, every time I do, I encounter what he called "synchronicities" or what I called "Godwinks" in a previous article.

A Perfect Day for Baseball

Last Sunday afternoon (Mother's Day), my 9-year-old son Eric and I headed over to our local high school's softball field to take advantage of our beautiful May weather and get in some practice. 

We started with fielding drills, and then I hit grounders and fly balls to him. It wasn't long before Eric wanted to shift to batting practice, especially since this field had a 200-foot outfield fence he thought he could reach.

As I sat the bucket of balls on the mound to start pitching to Eric, I noticed an SUV parked behind the backstop. Someone playing tennis at the nearby courts must have pulled in and parked there while I was working with Eric on his fielding. It was not in a good spot for us to start batting practice. But I didn't want to stop to locate the driver, ask him to move, and likely get yelled at for interrupting their tennis match.

So, we pressed on.

Eric was crunching the ball, hitting one line drive after another into the outfield, eventually smacking one within five feet of the outfield fence. We paused to admire his hit, enjoying the moment together.

On the next pitch, Eric fouled one up in the air behind the backstop.

I cringed as it thudded on the SUV's front windshield. I was hopeful as I didn't see a crack. But as I ran to get a closer look, I could see two concentric circles around where the ball had landed, damaging the windshield. Great.

Response-ability

An older man on one of the tennis courts saw me walking around his vehicle and yelled at me, asking what I was doing. I quickly told him that I was sorry, that we had hit his windshield. He walked off the court to meet me at his SUV, distraught over the situation. I told him again that I was sorry and would make it right.

He barked back at me in a rough Eastern European accent, "Sorry? That is all you can say? That you are sorry? It's my wife's car. She's going to kill me."

His aggressive attitude threw me off-guard and quickly led me to wonder why he wouldn't know better than to park behind a baseball backstop while people were practicing on the field. Come on, man, this is America! This is baseball!

But I managed to stay calm and reassured him I would pay for it. I walked to get my phone and texted my name and address to him. I told him to text me the invoice.

As I returned to the field, I saw Eric shaken up after watching the stranger yell at me. Eric sadly mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

I told my son it wasn't his fault and that I should not have pitched to him with the vehicle there. In my defense, I do have a condition that I turn back into a little kid whenever I put on a baseball glove. But it was still my fault, and I needed to own that.

A Tip From My Old Friend Wayne

As I listened to my audiobook while driving into work Monday morning, I heard Wayne Dyer recommend a life of generosity: "You're just about to put down a tip, and you're debating between giving $3 and $4. And you say, oh, I don't know, $4 seems like a bit too much. That makes it 18%, and I'm only supposed to give 15% or whatever your consciousness had told you. Give the $4."

A thought suddenly popped into my head - I will give that guy a little extra money in addition to the invoice amount.

Later that night, the man texted me the invoice. When I looked at the image, I saw that his wife's name was on the bill. Her name was Kristy, the same as my wife's.

I then realized that Kristy had given a special Godwink to Eric and me on Mother's Day.

Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting some on yourself.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Payoff

The next night, I drove to the man's house to pay him. I texted to let him know the check was in his mailbox and told him I had given a little extra to account for his trouble.

A half-hour later, the man called me, saying that it was too much and that it wasn't right. I refused to take it back, and he said, "No, I can't keep it. It's enough for me to know that there are still good and honest people in the world."

After I refused again, he said, "OK, let's agree to this. Whenever I go back to those courts, I will have the extra money with me. And if I bump into you, I will pay you back." I laughed and finally relented, saying that sounded fair.

We ended the call, both feeling a little better about people, a little better about the world.

Thank you, Kristy (and Wayne), for giving us a wonderful Mother's Day moment.

Links:

• Wayne Dyer’s Ultimate Library (audiobook)