1. When a Stranger Saw Me Differently…

I was visiting a beautiful bookstore in Bellingham on a Sunday. I love bookstores. They ground me, yet at the same time make my spirit soar — as though anything is possible among the thousands of words waiting on those shelves.

I wandered slowly through three floors of books, enjoying the ambience of the old historic brick building with its squeaky wood floors and timeless charm. Eventually I made my selection and joined the checkout line, where several people stood ahead of me. The sounds of happy book lovers drifted around me as my mind wandered.

Then I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

I turned to meet the eyes of a handsome young man, at least twenty years younger than my sixty-three. He said kindly, “Before you go…” He paused, then finished his thought: “You are absolutely gorgeous.”

I was stunned — caught off guard. As I do when I feel sudden joy or gratitude, my hand flew to my heart, my head tilted instinctively toward the sky, and I smiled. Then, leaning slightly toward him, hand still on my heart, I said with surprise: “Thank you! For someone my age, that is really nice to hear.”

He smiled, nodded, and walked away. I turned back to the checkout line feeling shocked — and, for a fleeting moment, light and beautiful.

But only for a moment.

Almost immediately, the familiar voice of my inner critic grew loud:

• He can’t possibly believe that.

• Why would he say such a thing?

• It must have been a joke.

• He must be blind. How could he see anything gorgeous in me?

• Maybe someone dared him to say it.

As much as I longed to believe him, I could not. My critic won, as it so often does. And in that moment, a deep crack in my heart opened to let its ugly contents spill out.

The truth is, this past year has been one of staggering loss and change. My husband and I divorced, ending a relationship that no longer served either of us. We sold our house and most of our belongings. In that process, I also said goodbye to my two Bernese Mountain Dogs and my cat.

Soon after, my mother — already living with dementia — suffered a stroke. She came home on Hospice. For months I drove back and forth, several hours each way, to sit with her, care for her, and hold on to what was slipping away. One night, while I lay beside her, she passed. My heart broke.

And then, as if that weren’t enough, I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.

In just a few months, I had lost my marriage, my home, my beloved animals, my mother, my health, and the vision I once held for my retirement.

It can be nearly impossible to believe kindness when you are broken. Loss and grief leave you fragile, raw, and ashamed. My self-image has been battered from so many angles that I no longer recognize myself.

And yet — in that bookstore, for reasons I may never know — a stranger looked at me and saw something beautiful.

His words were both joyful and disarming. They felt like a tiny crack of light through a heavy door.

Life is messy sometimes. I have learned that in my sixty-three years. Loss, illness, and big change often whisper lies, telling us we are less, or unworthy, or diminished. But sometimes, in the middle of that mess, someone comes along who sees something different.

That man’s words were an act of kindness without agenda. Perhaps I have been looking at myself only through a lens of sadness and loss. What if I chose, even for a moment, to see myself through his eyes?

Maybe I could offer myself the grace I so freely give others.

Because sometimes strangers remind us of what we’ve forgotten. And maybe the kindest thing we can do is let their words be true — just for a moment.

Grace in the beautiful mess of life.