An Ordinary Miracle

Just after noon today, I entered the bank as discreetly as possible. In the lobby between the outside world and the inside office, a man dialing on his cell phone looked up and said "Hello there!" quite loudly and cheerily. I said "Hi" back in my best what-are-you-so-happy-about-tone.

A young teller called me right over and asked what I needed. I had the amount necessary for my house down payment written on a cloudy blue Post-it note. I stuck it on the counter facing her direction.

"Are you buying a house?" she asked brightly. What was with these people today?

"Yes." And I'm on the verge of a major anxiety attack because of it, so let's keep it quiet.

"First house?!"

When someone asks me a question, I can never plead the fifth. Can't keep my mouth shut to save my life. My gravestone will read: Died Talking.

"First house on my own since the divorce. It's a little nerve-wracking."

"Hey, Jane! It's her first house!" Three tellers turn my way and begin to applaud. For some reason that's when I notice my old wedding song, Sarah McLaughlin's "Angel," playing in the office. I feel my balance tipping in an unfavorable direction. I started re-arranging my wallet, ID, checkbook and bag on the counter to stall the waterworks. Stupid anxiety attack waterworks. Can't stop those with the Hoover Dam.

Jane comes over to authorize the cashier's check and positively beams. She reaches over to shake my hand.

"Congratulations! You must be so excited!!" Hmm, try nauseated and dizzy. My life savings sit neatly in one small piece of paper now on the desk before me. The teller has already crumpled up the sticky note, so apparently there's no turning back. Seems like someone has turned the radio up incredibly loud. That song always did go on forever.

I unsuccessfully try to fit the check in my wallet, then my checkbook, and find it not as conveniently sized as I originally thought. I shove it in my little shoulder bag and turn around slowly.

This is the definition of anxiety. You do something very exciting and worth celebrating and you feel like the world may end at any moment. One way I can tell when it's happening is by the fact that I can't type unless I go very slowly, and even then I have to keep backing up and correcting myself. There is a disjoint between my mind and my fingers.

No one saw me crying when I left the bank and got back into my car. I knew it was a regular release: crying stopped being a cause for alarm in my life very early on. As I turned on the car, Sarah McLaughlin was still singing the same song. I sat for a minute until it finished, then pulled out of the parking lot.

I was about to turn off the radio when they announced that this was a back-to-back show, and they had one more song from Sarah. The song they played is called "Ordinary Miracle," and its lyrics are below.

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It’s not that unusual
When everything is beautiful
It’s just another ordinary miracle today

The sky knows when it’s time to snow
Don’t need to teach a seed to grow
It’s just another ordinary miracle today

Life is like a gift they say
Wrapped up for you everyday
Open up and find a way
To give some of your own

Isn’t it remarkable?
Like every time a rain drop falls
It’s just another ordinary miracle today

Birds and winter have their fling
But always make it home by spring
It’s just another ordinary miracle today

When you wake up every day
Please don’t throw your dreams away
Hold them close to your heart
Cause we’re all a part
Of the ordinary miracle

Ordinary miracle
Do you want to see a miracle?

It seems so exceptional
That things just work out after all
It’s just another ordinary miracle today

Sun comes up and shines so bright
And disappears again at night

It’s just another ordinary miracle today
It’s just another ordinary miracle today

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Don't misunderstand me: Sarah McLaughlin is not a cure for anxiety attacks, but she can be a nice distraction. Maybe I'll remember how to type tomorrow.