Once in a blue moon, my old friends and I plan a get-together—meaning, a dinner in one place at a specific time. It is probably one of the most difficult events to mount on planet earth, bar none. It takes weeks, or months even, before we finally agree on a date.
Then something comes up, and so it gets postponed.
Deciding on the venue is another story; getting a headcount is next to impossible.
If one thinks he already has a number of attendees a week before, he's dead wrong.
Every day the number changes. One calls to cancel and another calls to confirm—in and out, ad infinitum.
But miracles happen, and one such plan pushed through (whew!) one evening last week to celebrate the birthdays of two of us (as you might have guessed, the birthday dates have lapsed because of the umpteenth postponements, but no matter). Nothing wrong in celebrating a May 1st birthday on the 16th, is there?
Now, how about those who would have wanted to come but were not informed? Ooops, but that's another story. We all lead busy, busy lives in a busy, busy world, and because we are all getting on in years, we inadvertently forget.
The night brought together 12 people (out of a possible 200). I bussed familiar faces again after a long time, and I remembered a popular quote from Flavia Weedn in her book, Forever. “Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same.”
These are some of the people who stayed for awhile in my life.
“What you taught me is coming in handy in all my talks,” I told Norbert, seated to my right.
“And what's that?” he asked.
“Don't you remember? You taught me how to do power point presentations!”
“We worked on a few together,” I tried to jog his memory.
People don't remember the things they unselfishly do for others. But the beneficiaries of these gracious acts remember them forever.
I was a recipient of many kind acts from these 11 friends in the past (one blog on grace won't do them justice), which I am sure they don't remember either.
But I do. They're the footprints on my heart.