Mustard with Jazz Hands

John gets full credit for the title of this blog even though he doesn’t remember uttering the phrase “jazz hands.” It was an observation made over a week ago about an enthusiastic waitress at a Chinese-Thai restaurant outside of Berea, Kentucky who delivered the squeeze bottle of hot mustard with flair.

I almost did a spit take with my Pad Thai.

Humor has been essential in keeping us going. Especially when eating the Pad Thai in Berea. It’s also needed when you find yourself showering inside the RV while parked at a Wal-Mart Supercenter overnight. Or when sipping moonshine mixed with grape Kool-Aid or getting mud splattered in a “side-by-side” ATV heading up a 45-degree slope. I’d never done any of these things before or ever conceived trying them.

My list of “firsts” is growing longer by the day. It’s an exciting by-product of what we set out to do, and much like humor, discovering joy in the ordinary moments is essential for us to keep going with our intended mission of sharing the heartfelt stories of people all across America.

When you ask someone to trust you with their raw emotions, there is no way you can walk away without taking on some of their pain. I see that as a good thing; because where there is pain, I have also found hope. Endless hope. And it hasn’t just been the hope that things will be better for themselves; the people we meet want to do better, to feel better, because of what it would mean to those they love.

Inevitably, after the tears are wiped and the throats are cleared, we get a smile. I know that there is very little we can do to help except pass on the truth of their experience. And yet, simply being heard is enough for them.

They often say that all they can do is take it one day at a time, to live in the moment, and appreciate what they do have instead of lamenting what they’ve lost. To find that joy in the ordinary moments; to deliver the mustard with jazz hands.

Somehow the lesson sinks in more when you witness it in person.

So today I appreciate the relief of pulling into a gas station after a nervous hour of watching the gas tank head towards empty while in stop-and-go traffic outside of Pittsburgh. And I don’t mind having to eat that cheeseburger indoors because the skies opened up while we were ordering dinner. I just look outside the window and see the glorious double rainbows that appear when the rain ends. I do love a rainbow.