30: Wisconsin

This story is so incredible you want to cry.

It’s about a man named Jerry who everybody loves. One day he gets shot by robbers. The doctors think he’s going to die for sure. But he tells a joke to get them laughing, and says that he’s choosing to be alive. He survives.

“Wow!!” you type, “Can you believe it?!” You enter Andrew and Jessie’s addresses and press send. Hopefully your kids will get this one.

You close your email and try to read the AOL, but you get halfway through one article and then it changes for another. You don’t know how to make it stop.

Maybe if you had one of those Ipads it would be easier … then you could check your email while you were shopping, too. Steve might buy you one. You email him to ask.

Speaking of shopping, you should have gone an hour ago. Now it’s too late to make it to Pick n’ Save and back before he gets home.

There’s a little brick cheese in the fridge … frozen peas and carrots … a case or so of Schlitz … maybe you could throw a beer cheese soup together.

Still, it would have been nice to have made a real dinner … bratwurst and potatoes … sweet corn … cheddar bread and butter … apple kuchen … instead of wasting the day on the computer.

Oh, if only you were a better wife, a better mother to your kids. They never call you anymore, and barely ever reply to your emails. You don’t even know what Andrew’s job is. You only heard about Jessie’s new boyfriend through The Facebook.

“Honey,” Steve calls from the other room, “I’m home.” The front door closes with a click.

“Hi Snookums,” you call back to him, dabbing your eyes. “How was work?”

“Good.” His reflection appears in the computer screen, wearing his “Bob & Bob for Presidents” t-shirt and propping his dry-erase placard against the wall. “What did you do today?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing much.” You check your AOL again. “Did you get my email?”

“No, dear,” he says. “I’ve been on the picket lines.”

“Oh, you must be so tired!” You turn toward him and start to cry again. “Oh, Honey, I’m so sorry. I just got wrapped up in this story … and then I was surfing the web … and I didn’t remember dinner or where you were striking … No wonder the kids never tell me anything.”

“Aw, Angel Cakes,” he puts his hand on your shoulder, “don’t cry. Look,” he points at the screen. “There’s an email from Andrew now.”

You wipe your eyes and there it is, an email with the subject line: “Re: Fwd: Fwd: The power of positive thinking - AN AMAZING STOREY!!!”

“Dear Mom,” it begins, “I was thinking about killing myself today. Then I got your email and everything changed. It was like a light turned on in my mind. I knew I didn’t have to be sad any longer. That I could be as happy as I want to be.”

“So I called up my boss and told him that I quit. I called my girlfriend and asked her to marry me. I erased all of my depressing music. I deleted my angsty poetry. I’m going to dedicate my life to helping others like you helped me. I love you, Mom. And Dad. I love both of you.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst, it’s so full of relief and joy. “Thank you, Jesus,” you whisper. “Oh, thank you.”

That such a little thing could make such a difference … it’s like a miracle.