If You Could See Yourself Through My Eyes
- Maggie Stewart
- 3 minutes ago
- 3 min read
Dillon’s physical test for firefighting is coming up. He is applying for a full time position at a local station and the physical test is part of the application. See my illustration below to understand that this is the most ridiculously hard test you can imagine! “I am #5 on their list right now.” He tells me.
It’s a weird system, I think, to apply for fire fighting. An applicant gets points. So Dillon has points for having his EMT, his fire fighter’s certification, for passing a math and English test, a psyche test. He will receive more points for the physical test and then - an interview. There are only a few open spots - firefighter jobs are extremely competitive. It’s amazing. To have to audition and perform like this to be able to save someone’s life. To get a job where you run into a burning building because you care so deeply for a stranger inside.
I read our text conversation to Chris later and Chris’ eyes soften at the end. “That’s such a sweet thing to say.” He says.
That’s not sweet, I think - it’s just the truth.
Later, I am granddog sitting Lucy and we walk down the streets of Lake Bluff where Dillon works now. In town, I am bending over to scoop the poop when the fire truck comes blaring out of it’s garage and wails right by us. I straighten up and wave my loose hand - poop bag and all. “Lucy! There goes Dils!” Lucy politely wags her tail before resuming an intense sniff of what looks to me like a patch of plain dirt.
I text Dillon. Was that you that just passed us? Yup. He texts back. I like the thought that he texts his mom even as he flies down the street; game faced, clenching an axe - or whatever they clench - at the ready.
The next night we have granddog #2 - Blue, the husky. We walk and hear sirens in the distance and she howls back. Coyotes on the golf course join in and I think of Dillon in his numbered spot.
What if mothers or best friends were interviewed for their kid’s or pal’s positions? Timing is everything, of course. But tonight I want to call up the fire station he is applying at and tell them what they may not see. When Dillon was a kid, he was as skinny as a coat rack. It was that awful time when boys thought it cool to have their jeans falling off their butts. He looked like a messy coat rack full of dirty clothes. We called him the Yellow Lab, because he was as loyal and good natured and loving as you can get.
Now he is ready for the physical test. Different body. Same bones. Good bones.
What if kids, grown ups, anybody - could see themselves through the eyes of someone who loves them? All the potential, all the good. If we believed Lucy's eyes and wagging tail that tells us You are number 1!!!!!
I talk to friends. Most have a story of one thing someone said to them that changed their life, made them believe, or simply made them feel so loved. I see an ad for Fredrik Backman's latest book: "The world is full of miracles. But none greater than how far a {person} can be carried by someone else's belief in them." And I tear up. Yup.
If someone told you that you could go from #5 to #1 - would you believe her? Muster up all the good in you and shine? Or would you think "oh God, me? You have NO idea what’s going on in this head….” This holiday season full of miracles and belief; give someone those eyes. Or better yet, believe someone when they shine those eyes on you. What a wonderful world it could be.
