He had made thousands of smooth landings in his years as a pilot for Pan Am. But today he was nervous. Today he was flying a full plane, and in first class were a group of Russian Naval Intelligence officers traveling from Washington D.C. to New York City. As they began the descent, George decided this was going to be the smoothest landing those officers had ever experienced. He worked the controls and guided the plane down until the wheels slid onto the runway. A "mother's kiss" landing, as it was known to the pilots. Gentle as a whisper. When the plane reached the gate and stopped, George took his place at the cockpit door to nod at the passengers.
The Russian Naval Intelligence officers were soon at the door. The stewardess greeted them and then turned to their leader. "What did you think of our landing today?" she asked him.
In his deep Russian accent, the man boomed one word. "SUPERB!" and walked off the plane. George felt the word echoing through the plane and in his ears all day. SUPERB! He loved that word. "Marked to the highest degree by grandeur, excellence, brilliance, or competence." He loved how he felt when the word was directed at him. George decided he wanted to use that word regularly. To find people and actions around him that merited that word. Every day. And so he began to look, and notice and pronounce SUPERB! whenever he could.
One day it was the service he received in a diner. One his check stub he wrote a one word note to the waitress. SUPERB! The next day a plane's mechanic heard the word. The next day it was proclaimed to anyone listening about the subway's efficiency. And then a sunrise....
George told me this story this week. Right after our hospice had been rewarded with a loud SUPERB! The Russian officers had flow with George in 1971. For over 40 years George has been looking for excellence. And finding it all around him.
I shared this story with my team the next morning. I talked about how many times they do amazing work in private. For one patient, or one family member. I reminded them of their value and asked them to hear that Russian officer in their minds, looking over their shoulder and exclaiming "SUPERB!"
And then I began my awareness of the superb all around me, to remind me of all there is to be thankful for.
like today -
a toasty heater in my bathroom, cutting the cold
two hot air balloons floating in the crisp, autumn sky as we drove to school
the buzz of coworkers, full of friendly chatter around our long, work table
Urban Burrito's delicious Bonehead salad and a diet coke
speed dial. And a crystal clear connection that instantly links me to California
the efficiency of the Bilo grocery clerk
the laughter of my three men playing football in the leaves.
SUPERB! indeed.
This came in my email yesterday.
Erin is now a Tough Mudder and the owner of an orange headband. Orange finisher headbands are never for sale. They can only be earned over 11+ miles of mud, fire, freezing cold water and challenging obstacles....
I still can't believe we did it!
There were awesome highlights. *Making the trip with 5 really great women - Tough and encouraging! (That's Lisa, me, Heather L, Heather M, Shane, and Tanya taking the picture)
*The purple Tough Mommas shirts that Heather designed.
*Ploughing though the mud mile together. *Spectators cheering the Tough Mommas on.
*The beautiful Moree's Sportsman Preserve we ran through.
There were awful parts. Jumping into a huge trough of ice known as the arctic enema and swimming under a plank. Not fun. Getting shocked in the electric eel. Not fun. Wishing I had a lot more upper body strength. Not fun.
But what has stayed with me most all week was an obstacle at the end of the course called Everest.
Everest is, to quote the website, A quarter-pipe that you’ll have to sprint up and enlist the help of other Mudders to hurl you over this beastly summit. Everest is coated in mud and grease, a combination which will likely send you right back from where you came. Call upon other Mudders to catch you as you run up the quarter-pipe or work together to form a human chain so that you can scale someone’s shoulders to finally summit Everest.
I dreaded Everest all day. And by the time we got there I was mud caked, beaten and spent. I worried that the strong men helping people up the wall were probably already tired from aiding all the 90 pound spandexed women up, and might not be thrilled to see me coming. And I was ready to be done.
But there is a no whining rule on the Tough Mudder course. So I sucked it up and made a run for it. Up to the wall as far as I could run. I reached for the outstretched hands and made contact. Then slipped out of their grasp and thudded back down the wall into a heap at the bottom. Embarrassed, I stepped off the course. At least I tried.
A photographer was standing nearby. "You can do it!" He pep talked me. "You have come this far. I will help you. You just need a little push from behind." So I headed back to the starting line, and made the run again. Run, stretch, grab the hands, slip, fall. Only this time I took out the photographer on my way down.
A staff member was watching. He had a shaved head, wore the bright yellow Mudder shirt and had helped countless others today. He grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bottom of the half pipe where I was crumpled. "We are doing this." He said confidently. "It is my mission in life to get you over this wall." By now a crowd had gathered. The event's main announcer was perched on the wall giving commentary on my attempts. I was shaking and mortified. Yellow man and the photographer ran with me up the pipe. But I couldn't grab the outstretched hands tight enough and again I slid down.
Yellow man stood me in front of the pipe. Then he ran around the back and climbed up. He leaned way over the ledge, calling for other guys to hold his legs. Then he yelled for me to run hard. Once again I ran, I reached, I grabbed. But this time he was the one to catch me and he held on tight. He pulled me up and yelled for others to get my legs. Suddenly I was over the ledge and laying on the top of Everest. The announcer was screaming "She did it! She did it!" I realized I was crying and saying "thank you" over and over.
I have 19 little bruises on my legs and arms from Everest. They are totally worth it. I hope my yellow shirted hero fared better, but I bet he has some marks from it too. I'm still embarrassed, still humbled, but most of all still so very grateful. I continue to be so moved by his willingness to do whatever it took to get me over that wall.
With the adrenaline from this crazy event wearing off, I've been philosophical. I've been thinking about so many other times in my life when I've faced daunting walls and slipped, crashed, and failed. I keeping thinking of all the yellow shirts in my life who have encouraged, pushed and pulled me over when I could not do it myself.
All week I have pictured my yellow shirted hero leaning over the edge with arms outstretched. I want to be that for others. I've been inspired by that picture while I sit with my patients. I want to be that kind of parent and that kind of friend.
Someday I will finish this ultimate obstacle course. I will join a whole host of survivors who grabbed on to Jesus' outstretched hands, and realize just how far He had to lean out to hold us. I will see the marks where He was was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities. Instead of a orange tough mudder head band I will be given a robe of righteousness. One without a single thread of my own ability. A total gift wrapped tightly around me. I will be done with the mud forever and will loudly claim this promise for eternity.
Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you spotless before the presence of His glory with great joy. Jude 1:24
