Serendipity

I finally picked up a copy of Quiet: the Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking, Susan Cain's in-depth look at introversion, especially with its psychological and social implications for life in the United States. She concludes her book with words of wisdom for those of us who fall into the introvert camp. "Love is essential; gregariousness is optional. Cherish your nearest and dearest."

For nearly thirty-five years, Larry and I have lived at least four hours away from our families of origin, so it hasn't been easy to spend time with our nearest and dearest. Our jobs included ministry responsibilities on Sundays, so we weren't able to be with extended family on holiday weekends. So because we could get away this year, we headed to the western New York area for a few days of family connection over the Memorial Day weekend.

It was a bit too chilly for a swim in the backyard pool (polar bear club member I'm not), but we grilled hot dogs (Sahlen's, of course) , drank homemade root beer,  and told a story or two. It sure was good to be home with family.

It was also a weekend of serendipitous moments. I've always loved the word "serendipity," with its meaning of happy accident or pleasant surprise, and we experienced three unexpected glimpses of serendipitous grace on our visit.

The first encounter with serendipity happened shortly after lunch on Sunday, when my sister and I looked at each other and said, "We've got time to get to the Memorial Day parade." We hadn't planned to go, as we didn't want to rush away from our cookout. But a glimpse at the clock promised a few minutes to spare, so we grabbed the kids and the Twizzlers, hopped in the car, and headed to Main Street.

I'm spoiled by Ashland parades, with the high school band and a variety of marching units, and was disappointed by the nearly empty sidewalks and meager parade lineup. But then the serendipitous happened. We stood to honor the American flag as the local Salvation Army marched down Main Street with its brass band, and I was nearly bowled over by a hug from a woman with a sousaphone. We'd known Stephanie as a teen-ager many moons ago in New Jersey, and there she was, in a parade in my hometown!

Later that day, we decided to visit Niagara Falls, as did about 100,000 other people. We walked around a bit, amazed once again at the power of the rapids and the cascading water, but decided to postpone our Maid of the Mist under-the-falls adventure until another visit. We were ready to head home when we ran into friends from Cleveland - serendipity! We ended the evening at Old Man Rivers as the sun set over the Niagara River, sharing a meal and the leisurely conversation we don't always make time for in Ohio.

Before we headed for home on Monday, we took my mother to visit my father's memorial tree along the Two Mile Creek bike path. My sister and her young sons joined us, and Lucas and Noah helped us weed around Pops' tree as we reminisced about the nineteen-year-old Army recruit who served in World War II more than sixty years ago. Noah and I checked out the path to the creek, and he and his brother ran a couple of races as the sun peeked out from the clouds.

As we prepared to leave, a woman stood up from the tree she was tending and said, "thank you for bringing the children." Her memorial tree was for her grandson who died at age ten, and her labor of love was usually accompanied by tears. But as she watched the boys playing together, the tears stayed away, and she was glad for the resonance of children's laughter in the midst of sorrow.

To borrow C.S. Lewis ' phrase, I was "surprised by joy" through the unexpected embrace of an old friend, the words of a stranger, and good conversation at the river's edge. If, as Cain suggests, introverts are given "keys to private gardens full of riches," I'm a wealthy woman for sure.