Mental Matters
By Jennifer Goble

Some weeks are—miserable. Merriam Webster defines miserable as, “Being in a pitiable state of distress or unhappiness.” Okay, I’m exaggerating, but, stressful days involving unpleasant happenings is not my ideal.

Without sharing the boring details, trust me. Besides, the topic of this article is kindness. It started when I finally returned home from a trip involving several flights and typical eccentric spring weather. I put clothes in the washer and went to bed. The minute I lifted the lid to transfer my wash into the dryer, I remembered I forgot to remove my driver’s license from the jeans pocket. I shook every article of clothing and searched pockets. No license. I took the agitator apart. No license. Geez, I lost my driver’s license.

I remembered feeling my pocket on each leg of the trip, and the card was always there. I figured I lost it while pulling the phone from my hip pocket to take pictures of a jet flying low in takeoff as I waited for my husband to retrieve the truck.

I Googled, “How to replace lost driver’s license.” The problem, “United” in the United States does not apply to driver’s licenses. I was in Arizona, and my license is from Colorado. With little hope, I called the airport lost and found and left a voice message. I called the Department of Motor Vehicle (DMV) in Sterling, and the pleasant person said, “From a form, you can receive a replacement in 30 days, or if you come into the office, for $12 I can give you a temporary license.” The latter was not immediately possible, but I decided to take my chances and drive lawfully for two weeks until I returned to Colorado.

Two hours later, I received a Facebook message. “Hi. We found your license if you still need it. In Phoenix at Sky Harbor Economy Parking.”

I’ve never won the lottery, but it must duplicate what I felt. I returned, “Awesome!!! Where can I pick it up? Thank you!”

We debated whether to mail it or meet somewhere, and since medical appointments hampered my options, she offered to drive across the city and deliver it in person. The flood gates opened.

One hour later, I met this tiny, sweet, compassionate woman who handed me my driver’s license. I said, “I needed some kindness today. Thank you SO much!”

Because a license does not list telephone numbers, I realized the universe sent this empathetic soul who cared enough to search Facebook, find a matching picture, and send a message. She and her husband went above and beyond any expectation. My stressful week was redeemed, but more importantly, I gained much more than my license—the power of kindness.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

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