More Than Coincidence

Jack's mom called, and I knew it must've been tough. "He can't keep going to the same high school," she said, "not unless he has a place to stay in town." Then she took a deep breath. "Elisa, do you think it'd be okay if... Can he live with you for a little while?"

We first met Jack when he played soccer with Trey in second grade, and over the years, he's become more like family than anything. That made it easy for us to ask him to live here.

He moved in shortly after I spoke with his mom, and that's when a lady called. "This is a terrible idea, Elisa," she said. I'd only told a few people, but news travels fast. "You have cancer!" Jan continued. "I saw how much those last treatments took it out of you. Don't you want your last memories to be with your family? Not someone else's child?"

I blinked, unable to respond for a moment.

"Plus, it'll be too much work. This—what you've agreed to—is ridiculous. I wish I could keep you in line! And I can't believe Mike agreed to this."

I knew she meant well, but her words stung. "I'm already cooking for everyone, so what's making a little extra for one more person? Plus, this could change his entire life: keeping the same friends in high school, staying in a place where he's excelling..." Then I added, "We have TWO extra rooms." I felt increasingly tired from this conversation. "Not letting him stay—when we can help—THAT would not only be ridiculous, that would be wrong." What's the point of life if we turn a blind eye when people need help?! "This'll teach the kids an important lesson, too. I know Trey will never forget that we helped his friend."

For weeks, I thought about Jan's words, and one night, as I rested on the living room couch and Trey and Jack talked after doing the dishes, I felt grateful again that Jack had come to live with us.

"One of my grandpas passed away. I have so many memories with him," Jack told Trey. "But sometimes, I feel like he's watching over me, making sure I'm doing the right thing." His voice turned even more serious. "My Tribe, they do sundances and stuff like that. And when we pray, I pray for everyone I'm thankful for. I've always prayed for you guys and your mom. I pray for her to get better." He paused. "She's like a mom to me."

"You're family to us, too," Trey said, and tears filled my eyes.

That weekend, Mike and I brought the kids around town and decided to visit Ruby where she works as a tattoo artist. "Jack," I said as we drove toward the shop, "can you tell us about your grandpa, who passed away?"

"He's one of the people who's influenced me the most," Jack said.

"I wish I could've met him," I admitted. "He sounds amazing."

We got closer to the shop, and the conversation shifted gears. Soon, everyone told Jack about Ruby's journey to becoming a tattoo artist. She had so many opportunities for different careers and even got accepted to a big art college in California. But instead of pursuing traditional routes, at the age of 17, Ruby began visiting a local tattoo shop every day. She begged the artists to train her, but they weren't taking apprentices, and she was way too young anyway. But the kid kept going. And after a while, she started cleaning the different stations, lobby, and bathrooms, just wanting to make sure the place looked nice. She filed papers, answered phones, and helped replace an old floor. It wasn't until one of the artists talked with me, that I realized they'd decided to take her on as an apprentice.

"I remember the guy who first taught me," the artist said. "I guess he's the reason I want to help Ruby. She's willing to work hard, and she's earned a chance."

We finally arrived at the shop and got out of the SUV. "It seems like Ruby always knew what she wanted to do," I said then turned to Jack, thinking about his grandpa again. "What did your grandpa do for a living?" I asked.

"You won't believe it," Jack said, "and it wasn't around here, but he was actually a tattoo artist."

We went into the shop, and not long after giving Ruby the food we'd brought for her, Jack appeared completely shocked. "Everything okay?" Trey asked him.

"It's just that..." Jack paused for a minute. "You know my grandpa who passed away and worked as a tattoo artist?"

Trey nodded.

"Well, he only really had one apprentice, one person he taught everything, and—"

At that moment, Ruby's mentor walked through the door and appeared stunned to see Jack. "Jack! What are you doing here?"

___

As we drove home, I found the situation surreal. My oldest baby worked exceedingly hard to finish her years-long apprenticeship, and now her dreams are coming to fruition. BUT the main reason a local artist even took an apprentice in the first place is because of his own mentor's example of altruism and kindness. That man was Jack's grandfather.

The next time Jan called, I guardedly told her this story.

"I've been meaning to tell you something," she finally said, stringing her words together slowly. "We're opposites in a lot of ways. And, well, about that conversation when Jack first moved in, I think I overstepped. It's just that if I were sick, I'd want time alone with my family, JUST my family." She remained momentarily quiet. "But I've felt really bad about what I said, and the truth is that I can see a lot of value in what you're showing your kids by example. I was just worried about you."

I sighed, relieved. It'd been driving me crazy to have this unresolved, especially since life with cancer can be uncertain. "Thank you. I really think Jack was meant to stay here. He's helped Trey and even stood up for Indy when she started high school. I think he's done more for us than we've done for him."

She spoke after a minute. "You know, Elisa, I think you're right. That story about Jack's grandpa is more than a coincidence. You're all exactly where you're meant to be."

Hindsight Shows There's a Plan

My grandma struggled with depression so much that she created what she called her "happiness file." It's basically a recipe box filled with little notes that reminded her to be grateful. I don't think she expected anyone to ever read the notes, but now that she's no longer here and I'm fighting cancer, her words have become like a lifeline from Heaven.

The other day, I opened her happiness file and read words she'd written on an index card: “Hindsight shows G-d's plan.” This felt ironic since I'd recently been thinking about an experience that proved this exact notion.

At one point, before moving to Idaho, I had a really terrible job where my boss was having a blatant affair. (I honestly shouldn't judge because no one is perfect—especially me. But, despite that, this situation made me feel physically sick and became too much, almost all encompassing...) Many of the other employees could turn a blind eye, but I just could not look past it. In fact, I became so negative that I'd come home and repeatedly tell my family about it. "Their spouse comes into the office, and I can't stand knowing what's going on behind their back. It breaks my heart. It really does."

"Elisa, this is all you've talked about for the last few weeks. What are you gonna DO about it?" Mike asked.

As the truth of this sunk in, I felt extremely embarrassed that I'd let the situation consume my life. “Well, it's already been reported by another employee,” I finally responded, “and administration isn't doing anything." 

So, I ended up requesting to move to another department, but on my last day—before making my transfer—something unfortunate happened. My boss got flowers from her husband and, sounding proud, asked me, "What does the card say?" She’d asked this from the other side of the office, obviously expecting his greeting to be sweet, per usual.

"Oh," I gasped after reading the card silently. "I don't think I should read this out loud." Other employees and even customers stood nearby and turned to watch this interaction.

“Elisa!” Her voice grew cold, and she appeared visibly agitated. Everyone knew not to disagree with her because she was sleeping with HER boss. And crossing her meant crossing him. “Just. Read. It!"

“Okay.” Everyone continued staring curiously, so I took a deep breath and finally whispered. "It says, 'I know… about the affair.'"

Time passed and even though I'd transferred to a completely different department, my previous boss had it out for me. She'd report me to HR, saying my clothes weren't appropriate or my hair wasn't "natural looking."

An HR employee finally grew frustrated and said, “There’s nothing wrong with your clothes or hair, and frankly, I’m getting tired of these allegations because they’re wasting my time. She even checks to see when you’re parking in the morning to make sure you’re on time. That’s what the time clocks are for!”

Eventually, the HR manager called both of us in and gave her a warning: “You're spending so much time following Elisa that you're neglecting your own duties."

Anyway, looking back at that horrendous work experience, I remembered something surprising—an incredibly good thing that happened!

Basically, each time I'd get called in to the HR office, I'd walk by a receptionist who always seemed sad. She was so kind to everyone and such a hard worker, but I couldn’t imagine what made her so dismal-looking. It didn’t take long to hear her story: Her ex-husband had used his money to hire a fancy lawyer. And even though she was an amazing mom, he told lies, took the kids away, and completely broke her heart. I couldn't fathom how she felt, so I did the only thing I could; I started anonymously leaving notes on her desk whenever I got called in. The notes would be simple: "You Matter." "Have a nice day." "You're a hard worker." "You make a difference."

Although seemingly inconsequential, this gave me a purpose—a distraction—and transformed the negativity of visiting HR into something positive.

Anyway, after being diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma in 2020 and announcing on Facebook that doctors only gave me two years to live, I got a message from the receptionist I’d known so many years before.

"Elisa, I just wanted you to know… I had thought about ending my life. That's around the time I started getting those notes on my desk. I didn't even know where they were coming from or who would leave them, but then I found out it was you. Those words saved my life. I have my kids back now. I have custody. My life, well, it's all different from where it was. I'm really glad I didn't commit suicide. I needed you to know that you changed my life."

I cried after reading her message. Those notes were so simple—a good distraction for me. But to have something so easily done change her life, well, that meant everything.

That’s what I contemplated when I read my grandma's words. I think she was right; maybe hindsight does show that G-d has a plan. So many things had to go “wrong” for them to go right. I thought that was a hard time in my career, but if all those moments culminated into something that even minutely helped that woman… then I'm grateful everything panned out the way it did.

No matter what hardships you’re experiencing today, please don’t forget how quickly life can change. You never know what miracles might be right around the corner. Life is so beautiful from the outside looking in. 

A picture of me holding my grandma’s happiness file 🥰