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By Janet Seever
WHEN I arrived at 6 am in the large hospital kitchen,
Rose was already checking name tags on the trays against the patient
roster. Stainless steel shelves held rows of breakfast trays which we would
soon be serving.
“Hi, I’m Janet.” I tried to sound
cheerful, although I already knew Rose’s reputation for being
impossible to work with. “I’m scheduled to work with you this
week.”
A stocky middle-aged woman with graying hair, Rose
stopped what she was doing and peered over her reading glasses perched on
her nose. I could tell from her sour expression she wasn’t pleased to
see a student worker.
“What do you want me to do? Start the
coffee?” I was feeling less confident by the minute. Rose sullenly
nodded and went back to checking name tags.
Moments after I filled the 40-cup pot with cold water,
Rose gruffly snapped, “That’s not the way to make
coffee.” She stepped in and took over.
“I was just doing it the way our supervisor
showed us to do it,” I said in astonishment.
“The patients like the coffee better the way I
do it,” she replied curtly.
Nothing I did pleased her after that. All morning her
eagle eyes missed nothing and her sharp words stung. She literally trailed
me around the kitchen.
Later, after breakfast had been served and the dishes
had been washed, I set up my share of trays for the next meal. Then I
busied myself cleaning the sink. Certainly Rose couldn’t criticize
the way I did that.
When I turned around, there stood Rose, rearranging
all of the trays I had just set up!
Later at break time, some of the older full-time
workers decided to have some fun and started teasing me.
“Are you having a good time working with
Rose?” Margaret’s mischievous blue eyes twinkled as she baited
me.
“That’s not even funny,” I said,
biting my lip to keep back the tears.
Totally exhausted, I trudged the six blocks home from
the University of Minnesota Hospital late that June afternoon. As a third
year university student working my way through school, I had never before
encountered anyone like Rose.
With muscles still tense, I wrestled with my dilemma
alone in my room.
“Lord, what do you want me to do? I can’t
take much more of Rose.” I turned the possibilities over in my mind.
Should I see if my supervisor would switch me to work with someone else?
Scheduling was flexible.
On the other hand, I didn’t want to be a
quitter. I knew my co-workers were watching to see what I would do. The
answer to my prayer caught me completely by surprise: I needed to love
Rose.
Love her? No way!
Tolerate, maybe, but loving her was impossible. “Lord, I can’t
love Rose. You’ll have to do it through me.”
Working with Rose next morning, I ignored the barbs
thrown in my direction and did things her way as much as possible to avoid
friction. As I worked, I silently began to surround Rose with a warm
blanket of prayers. “Lord, help me love Rose. Lord, bless
Rose.”
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Over the next few days, an amazing thing began to
happen. As I prayed for this irritating woman, my focus shifted from what
she was doing to me, and I started seeing Rose as the hurting person she
was.
I was the one who changed first, not Rose. As the icy
tension began to melt away, Rose criticized less and less.
Throughout the rest of the summer, we had numerous
opportunities to work together. Each time she seemed genuinely happy to see
me.
“I saw on the schedule they got the two of us
working together next week,” she would say as we passed in the
hospital hallway. She added: “I’m glad about that.”
As I worked with this lonely woman, I listened to her.
I learned she was burdened by elderly parents who needed her care, by her
own health problems and by an alcoholic husband she was thinking of
leaving.
There was no question that her lot in life was
difficult, and I began to understand what made her the way she was.
As I listened, I discovered that her unique way of
doing things resulted from her desire to do something special for the
patients.
She explained how her method of setting up trays
helped the eye surgery patients find things easily on the tray. Cubing the
brightly coloured gelatin slabs made them look prettier in the bowl, and
easier for patients to eat. She had her own reasons for everything.
In return, she wanted the patients to appreciate her
for doing special things for them. This woman – whom I once
considered so unlovable – was actually begging for someone to love
and appreciate her! I learned so much by observing Rose – far more
than I learned from a textbook in my years at the university.
The days slipped by quickly as I finished the last
several weeks of my summer job. Leaves were starting to turn yellow and
red, and there was a cool, crispness in the air. I soon would be returning
as a full-time student.
One day, while I was working alone in one of the
kitchens, Rose entered the room. Instead of her uniform, she was wearing
street clothes. I looked at her in surprise. “Aren’t you
working today?”
“I got me another job and won’t be working
here no more,” she said, as she walked over and gave me a quick hug.
“I just came to say good-bye.” Then she turned abruptly and
walked out the door. Although I never saw Rose again, I still remember her
vividly.
In the summer of 1966, I learned a lesson I’ve
never forgotten – although more than 40 summers have come and gone
since then.
The world is full of people like Rose –
irritating, demanding, unlovable – yet hurting inside. I’ve
found that love is the best way to turn an enemy into a friend.
Janet Seever is a writer
for Word Alive
magazine. More of her articles can be found at inscribe.org/janetseever.
Summer/Fall 2008
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Kimberley Payne
www.kimberleypayne.com
Marcia Laycock
www.vinemarc.com