My stomach was in knots all morning. I was terrified. Flat-out scared out of my wits. I wanted to chicken out, stay home because of the weather, learn that today's event was canceled and beyond my control. What I was afraid of was meeting new people. My messenger angel from last week invited me to attend a Rotary meeting as her guest (after I told her how much I wanted to join a group somewhere), and today at lunch was my chance to put up or shut up. I never got a call or email saying that the meeting was canceled, and since the roads were warm and clear, I made my shy introvert side stay home while I went out to meet people. I don't know why I make these things up to be so scary in my mind. Every single person I met today was lovely. They all welcomed me warmly and seemed genuinely interested in letting me join in their luncheon. I met at least eight or ten people who carried on conversations with me, and it felt really good.
Once the program started, I understood why my instincts told me I needed to be with these people. I knew this was a service organization, but I'd never gotten super deep into the exact details of the mission. It was something my grandfather had believed deeply in for his entire adult life, and now I get it. I see just how much I need to be pouring my time and effort into being one of them. They say it from the very beginning, that they care about fairness, truth, and the benefit of all. And then they put actions behind their words. Yes, I want this. I want them to accept me as one of them. I filled out an application on the spot.
Apparently every week someone gives a presentation, on incredibly wide-ranging topics. Today's subject was the project to replace the I-35 bridge that collapsed in Minneapolis several years ago, as told by one of the safety officers on the job. He apparently was from a local company that won the bid to build the replacement concrete bridge (all or part of it, I wasn't sure which). It was fascinating, seeing pictures of the reconstruction, all the giant cranes and casting frames. The rebar in a bridge like that is over two inches thick. But the presentation ended on several pictures of the collapse itself, and the ensuing rescues and retrievals. It left us all quiet, especially me. It made me remember that I had driven with my family over that very bridge two and a half years before it came crashing down. I don't know whether we recognized just how awful that bridge's condition was then, but I can guarantee it wasn't significantly better for being two years younger. It was simply a matter of timing that we drove over it unscathed. And for that I am grateful.
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