Last week was a doozy.
The Belonging Blog website and email subscription service wasn’t working properly and then Sunday, I broke a veneered front tooth in half, on a piece of bacon. Aside from the largely unknown fact that Australian bacon is dangerous, let’s face it, my smile is Jack-o-lantern ready ahead of time.
Sometimes it’s difficult to keep things in perspective. (Everyone’s healthy, no major financial crisis, loving children)So I drove to the pharmacy, bought denture adhesive and stuck the half veneer back on, sort of. Eating is finished for now and I’m drinking with a straw. But I can still rock climb.
Three-quarters of the way up an indoor climb — you could say I was at the crux — my veneer popped out, leaving me to wonder for a quick moment: do I continue on to the top, holding the veneer in my mouth and risk swallowing it or dropping it? Dumb idea. I look down to my husband who’s belaying me and another friend, pointing to my closed mouth, gesturing with my one free arm.
Here’s the thing. When we got to the regular place where we have our after-climbing drinks and sometimes a meal, the waitress had put a little silver reserved sign on our favourite table for us. It was such a little thing, but it meant so much to me and I told her so. To me, that silver sign said: you belong here.
I sipped my after-climbing beer through a straw and my husband, to cheer me up, gave me a birthday present early: an antique wooden letter set from a printing press. The letters are backwards so he hoped it would help me to see things differently.
Now that’s belonging and love. It’s amazing how little things that other people do can give us a sense of belonging. And then we can do something for the next person we meet.
After a couple of weeks of technical problems, it appears that the email subscription list is back up and running.
Give me a few more trips to the dentist and I’ll be able to smile with pride too.