Going Bananas

I admit I've never considered myself to be a true contender for the "Good Housekeeping" seal of approval, but sometimes I surprise myself with my lack of credentials. This morning I found a petrified banana in the bottom of a decorative pitcher on my kitchen counter.

As always, I looked at the bright side. There were no fruit flies buzzing around, there was no odor (quite a different experience from the day I poured milk that looked like cottage cheese and smelled like vomit into my cereal bowl; hence, the new refrigerator), and the rock hard piece of fruit that was only recognizable as a banana because of the "Chiquita" sticker that survived the fossilization was shaped like a horseshoe. That's good luck, right?

No harm, no foul. My discovery of the relic -- I tremble to think how long it's been there -- reminded me that life is full of surprises, sometimes even good ones. Around every corner, behind every door, and, yes, in my kitchen, at the bottom of every pitcher, little marvels await. They appear when you least expect them, and certainly not when you're wasting a lot of energy looking.

I watched what should have been a horrifying story on television this morning, about a young couple with a young child. Both the mother and father, within days of each other, were diagnosed with different forms of late stage, incurable cancer. In all likelihood, both will die before their daughter even gets her first report card. But these two people were a picture of hope, having learned to appreciate all they have rather than dwell upon what they have not. Their friends have organized themselves into a well-oiled love and money spewing machine. The couple are doing what each of us wishes we had done back in those days: enjoying every precious moment with their child. Who knows? Maybe they'll make it.

I'm convinced my horseshoe shaped banana has been there for quite some time. How else can I explain all the blessings in my life? There are lots of things in my life I anticipate with great joy, but I'm willing to bet there are just as many lovely little surprises lurking about which I remain blissfully ignorant. Those discoveries will no doubt be as sweet as the dehydrated, condensed fruit encased within my horseshoe shaped peel.