Shining Star

Today has been a wonderful day,  It seems a bit odd that it's been a wonderful day, however, because the majority of it has been spent in class and studying for my two midterms this Thursday.  But a single moment (or rather, an hour of beauty followed by a single moment) can change everything.  

I attended SMU's Fall Brown Bag Dance Series - something that I would not miss for the world.  It has become a bit of a tradition, I suppose, but given the amount of talent that is displayed in a single hour of time is unbelievable.  Brown Bag Dance Series (for those non-SMU students) is a free bi-annual dance performance that contains the hard work of many of the dance majors in the Meadows School of Art.  Students choreograph and perform in these pieces of glory and people from the entire community come out to watch.  It is, if I may say so, the best event on campus; it is something that I plan for about a month in advance...and if that means skipping a class, then so be it (but I always try to find a way to make it to class, as well).  

As I watched my third Brown Bag Dance performance whilst at SMU, I found myself in tears.  Tears of happiness, tears of sadness, tears of anger, tears of surprise.  It sounds silly, I know, but the amount of feeling and emotion that is put into these pieces are always overwhelming.  Needless to say, this was enough to tip my day over to the joyous side.

While leaving Meadows (the school of the arts), however, I stumbled upon an elderly couple - the wife of which seemed to have her hands full and the husband of whom was a sickly character in a wheelchair.  Without a moment of hesitation, I asked the elderly couple if they required any assistance.  "Actually...that would be wonderful, if you wouldn't mind," the woman responded.  I quickly took her belongings onto my shoulders and into my arms and also offered my arm to her husband.  As the two of us walked down the steps and his wife stood on top of the steps waiting for me to return, the old man looked to me with a glistening eye and slowly said, with grunts of pain in between, "When you get to heaven, there will be an extra star waiting for you."  My heart fluttered.  I didn't know what to say in response - what do you say to such a wonderful thing?  "I'll be sure to tell you 'hello' when I see you," I whispered and added a wink.  

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I left him there (holding the railing) and ran up to carry the wheelchair down.  As I collected my belongings to head to my next class (which I was now late for), the old woman thanked me and the elderly man said (with quite an effort), "Have a wonderful rest of your life."  I replied with no words, as I could not find any words that were worthy, so I instead smiled my widest smile with absolutely no effort.  Who needs exercise when you have a helping hand that, when offered, can reward you with a more-than-worthy amount of endorphins?