Today was one of those days when I remembered why I sell Avon. It's not because I love the products (to which I am actually addicted). It's not for the money (that has paid for a lot of extras). It's because of my customers. Today was an exhausting, emotional day but I came home feeling rewarded. Exhausted, but content.

My morning started off pretty smoothly until I got to my usual 10:30 appointment and her husband greeted me at the door with, "She's not here. She's in the hospital. She had a stroke last night." I literally staggered backwards and grabbed onto the railing to steady myself. He told me she's okay and will be fine, but as soon as I got into the car, I started to cry. 

"I need a new job," I told my mom. "If my customers are going to start having strokes on me, it's time for a new job." I'm just so darn attached to them. They're like family. 

My next stop was one of my favorite Avon Grandmas. She has pictures of my kids on her fridge, tells everyone their her great-grandchildren and she calls me "babe." Seeing her was salve to my sad soul.  

From there I went to my next regular stop, rang the bell and waited. When I didn't here Ann call for me to come in, I knew something was not right. Rang the bell again. No answer. Called her from my cell phone and left a message to call me when she got back. 

I re-grouped over lunch then continued on with my day. At my second stop of the afternoon, my second favorite Avon Grandma shared her burdens with me. Her sister, also one of my customers, had her first chemo treatment for her stage four cancer yesterday. Her husband who is in a home because of severe alzheiemer's doesn't recognize her anymore and today he told her to go home. We hugged, said "I love you" and away I went. 

On to Doris' house. Doris is 82 and was recently diagnosed with osteoporosis. This diagnosis deflated her for a few weeks because she'd never had to take any sort of medication until then. But today, she called to me from her side yard as I got out of my car and then waved at me kind of crazy like and walked out of sight. I followed. What do you know? Doris was painting the trim of her house. By herself. In the heat. She told me about the painters who ripped her off and left the trim undone. Then as I said goodbye, she asked, "Kristy, do you have a cell phone?" I told her I did and she told me she needed me to come into the house with her and help her find her missing cell phone. So that's what we did. There it was under the couch. She again told me the story of the painters who ripped her off then asked if it was too hot outside for her phone. I wanted to say, "it's too hot outside for you but not your phone." I didn't of course. I just gave her a hug and left her laughing at a joke. 

Next was Jim and Jan's house. Jim was sitting on the porch drinking a beer when I walked up. He's 80-something and has dementia. I've never seen him drink a beer before. He followed me into the house talking about beer and once Jan and I got into our Avon mode, he disappeared into the garage. She sighed and said, "Finally some peace." Then she cried. His dementia is worsening and suddenly he's decided he needs to have a beer or two every day. The doctor said it was okay but it's making everything harder on her. Jan is my third favorite Avon Grandma. We usually swap recipes and talk about cooking. Today I sat with her for forty minutes while she vented about her husband's failing mind. When I got up to leave, she said, "Maybe I should have the beer." We laughed heartily.

A few stops later, I arrived at my regular 2:30 appointment. Virginia's husband came to the door and told me she wasn't home. She was at the hospital with her dad who was having serious heart troubles again. We chatted a bit about this latest heart problem and I went on my way. 

Now I had some extra time so I called to see if Anne had gotten home. Indeed she had. She too had been at the hospital. Her sister's husband had been admitted and her other sister's husband was being discharged. She was the taxi. 

By the time I made it to my 3:30 appointment, I'd heard of two more loved ones being in the hospital for serious illnesses and I didn't know if I could take much more. Bonnie was my last stop of the day and had just gotten home from a funeral. It was the second one she'd been to in a week. I told her how my grandfather used to say, "I just don't want to answer the phone anymore. It's just going to be someone telling me so-and-so died." She smiled weakly and said, "that's just about it." She's 80-years-old and said that they go to at least two funerals a month. I told her about homeschooling and she told me how proud of me she is for taking on a monumental task. 

On the way home, I recounted my day.  Suddenly it occurred to me why I'm always so tired when I come home from delivering Avon. It's more than just delivering lipstick to me. It's delivering a little bit of hope.

Last month, Adam had his first ever sports physical since he will play football this fall. Everything was fine, but the doctor heard a heart murmur and said we'd need to see the pediatric cardiologist the next time he came to Bismarck. This mama, prone to anxiety as she is, fell apart. 

We've known Adam has a murmur since he was a newborn. Gracey has one too. But for whatever reason, the doctor thought that it should be checked out by an expert. He assured me it was probably nothing and signed the sports release, but "probably nothing" is never reassuring. 

Today was the big appointment. I was a mess most of the day, crying between Avon deliveries and on the verge of a panic attack. Adam was very nervous but tried to be tough. He went to the bathroom three times while we waited for the appointment. Scott was our rock, concealing his own worries to reassure both of us and lead us in prayer. Repeatedly. 

Dr. P came in and asked us and Adam some questions. He was a little concerned when I told him about Gracey's valve issue as a newborn. (read about that here) Then he listened to Adam's heart. For. A. Long. Time. In several different locations front and back. Then he listened to, palpated and timed major arteries. It. Took. Forever. 

He told us that Adam's murmur sounds innocent. He said it's the kind of murmur that is common in children aged 2-5. Adam is 9. He said since Adam isn't having any ill effects of a murmur (passing out, chest pain, etc) and that all of his valves and arteries sound good otherwise, so an EKG isn't necessary at this point. But if when he is 12 the murmur is still there, then it will be time for an EKG as a 12-year-old heart should not sound like a 2-5 year-old heart. 

Then he drew a sketch of the heart and explained that some cardiologists thing this type of murmur is caused by an extra ligament in the heart that kind of reverberates the way a harp string does. The ligament has no purpose, most people don't have this little extra ligament and all it does is make a musical sound in the heart. 

You could hear a collective sigh of relief come from the three of us. 

As we got up to leave, I said to Adam, "Dude, I think Dr. P just said you have music in your heart." 

Dr. P agreed and said that yes, Adam does indeed have a musical heart. 

I started crying (again) and could only whisper, "Thank you Jesus." 

As we got into the elevator, Adam looked at Scott and said, "I've got a song in my heart, Dad. A song in my heart for Jesus." 

I don't want Adam to have an EKG in three years. I want his murmur to go away and to never cause us stress or worry again. Yet, if having a murmur will keep Adam's heart turned toward Jesus, then I can live with that.