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The Baker,  The  Neighbour  and   the  Taxi  Driver   a  story  of  being  grateful   Paula  Laurel  Jackson    

The Baker,  the  Neighbor  and  the  Taxi  Driver      

Wake  at  dawn  with  a  winged  heart  and  give  thanks  for  another  day  of  loving.   Kahlil  Gibran       I  woke  up  this  morning  with  such  a  feeling  of  gratitude  from  the  happenings  of  the   previous  evening.  It  all  happened  because  I  had  not  slept  at  all  the  previous  night  and   carried  the  fatigue  throughout  my  body  during  the  entire  the  day.  I  returned  home   that  evening,  feeling  heavy,  hardly  able  to  keep  my  burning  eyes  closed,  and   famished.   Before  I  could  take  off  my  jacket,  I  was  already  in  the  kitchen  thinking  about  what  I   could  make  as  quickly  as  possible.  As  I  started  to  make  my  dinner  I  realised  that  I  had   promised  the  shop  owner  around  the  corner  to  bring  by  some  cookies  that  evening.  I   promised,  and  hate  to  break  promises.  I  knew  that  the  owner  would  be  away  for  a   week,  and  so  I  had  no  choice  but  to  leave  the  house  again.     In  my  state  of  mind,  which  clearly  was  not  quite  with  me,  I  closed  the  door.  Closing   the  door  would  normally  not  pose  any  problem,  however,  I  had  closed  the  door  and   left  the  keys  hanging  inside  of  the  door  lock.  Inside  of  my  flat!   I  wanted  to  scream,  yell  at  myself  and  hit  myself  over  the  head.  But,  I  managed  to   hold  myself  back.  I  took  a  few  deep  breaths  and  thought  about  what  to  do.  I  headed   downstairs  and  ran  into  the  baker  from  the  bakery  next  door.  He  noticed  at  once  that   my  face  was  not  its  usually  cherry-­‐self,  as  he  described  it,  and  asked  what  was  up.  I   shared  my  experience  and  he  immediately  offered  to  help!  Next  to  him,  was  a  taxi   driver  who  had  overheard  the  conversation.  He  equally  mentioned  that  he  could  try   to  help;  and  so,  the  three  of  us  went  upstairs  and  attempted  to  open  my  door.     I  was  able  to  get  a  second  key,  as  my  friend  kept  one  for  such  happening.  However,   since  my  key  was  still  in  the  inside  lock,  there  was  no  way  of  budging  it.   On  such  occasions,  one  would  normally  call  what  in  Germany  is  refereed  to  as   Copyright  2012  Paula  Laurel  Jackson  


“Schlusseldienst”, kind  of  like  emergency  key  people.  The  thing  is  that  or  a  10  second   operation,  they  could  charge  as  much  as  300  Euros,  plus  extra  costs  for  nocturnal-­‐     fees,  and  travel,  and  this  and  that.  Neither  the  baker  nor  the  taxi  driver  was  able  to   allow  this  to  happen.     And  so,  they  got  to  it  as  I  mentally  imagined  the  door  flinging  open  and  us  all  rejoicing   at  the  grand  success!   The  two  men,  shook  and  pulled,  wiggled  and  whammed  at  the  door,  and  nothing   budged.   One  hour.   They  kicked,  and  hammered,  pondered  and  cursed.  Nothing  budged.   Two  hours.   They  dripped  with  sweat,  peeling  off  what  layers  they  were  wearing  on  the  cool   evening.  The  sweat  had  soaked  all  the  way  through.   They  huffed  and  puffed.  Nothing  happened.   I  continued  to  do  my  part  by  continuing  to  visualise  the  door  flinging  open.   Nothing  happened.   A  neighbour  finally  came  down,  wondering  what  was  going  on  and  offered  to  assist   by  bringing  tools,  credit  cards,  x-­‐rays  (yes!)  and  hammers!   Nothing  worked!   After  3  hours  of  an  intense  fitness  workout,  the  baker  had  to  leave.  I  cannot  begin  to   express  how  emotionally  fatigued  I  was  at  this  point.   As  the  baker  realised  that  he  had  to  leave  the  scene,  he  looked  nearly  more  upset   than  I  was.  I  do  not  know  who  extended  their  arms  out  first,  but  we  hugged  each   other  goodbye-­‐and  the  baker  wished  me  luck.  Anyone  watching  us  would  have   thought  that  this  was  a  drama  scene  out  of  a  movie.   Copyright  2012  -­Paula  Laurel  Jackson  


The neighbour  was  by  this  time,  now  completely  dishevelled  and  had  to  leave  as  well.     The  taxi  driver  exclaimed  that  he  was  determined.  He  added  that  he  could  not   possibly  leave  until  he  had  won  this  challenge.  It  really  had  become  a  personal   challenge  for  him  and  the  expression  on  his  face  and  exertion  from  his  body  revealed   his  intention.   30  minutes  later,  completely  out  of  breath  and  nearly  in  tears,  the  taxi  driver  gave  me   a  pitiful  look  and  said  that  there  was  no  way  to  open  the  door.  I  had  long  stopped  the   visualisation  process  and  was  also  nearly  in  tears.  This  whole  ordeal  had  become  such   a  huge  challenge  for  us  all.     As  the  taxi  driver  gathered  all  of  the  tools  we  had  accumulated  in  silence,  I  helplessly   took  the  x-­‐ray  paper  and  tried  to  copy  what  I  saw  the  men  doing,  listless,  and   defeated.  Perhaps  I  did  this  just  for  a  last  attempt  to  say  that  we  all  really  all  tried   every  possible  thing!   And  with  that,  the  door  flung  open!   Yes,  flung  open!   It  literally  flung  open,  and  better  yet-­‐  I  have  absolutely  no  inkling  what-­‐so-­‐ever  as  to   how  I  did  it!   I  was  in  such  a  state  of  confusion,  that  I  simply  stood  in  front  of  the  open  door.  And   then  there  was  dead  silence  for  a  few  moments-­‐  until  I  heard  a  scream!  The  taxi   driver  screamed  out  loud  as  if  we  had  just  won  the  football  game  of  a  lifetime!.  He   ran  up  to  me,  grabbed  me  and  hugged  me!  And  we  rejoiced  in  our  victory,  with  cheer   and  laughter.   He  spent  the  following  15  minutes  examining  the  door  and  wondering  how  in   heavens  name  I  managed  to  do  it.  We  could  for  the  life  of  us,  just  not  figure  it  out!  I   told  him  that  we  should  not  underestimate  the  power  of  the  mind,  and  he  shook  his   head  in  agreement!   After  he  left,  and  all  was  over,  I  closed  the  door  and  just  stood  there  in  front  of  the   door  in  silence  and  in  wonder.  And  then  I  started  to  sob.  And  then  I  began  to  cry.  And   then  I  started  to  bawl!!     Tears  of  amazement  relief  fell  off  of  my  cheeks;  amazement  from  the  realisation  that   Copyright  2012  Paula  Laurel  Jackson  


during the  previous  four  hours,  I  had  been  visualising  exactly  that,  which  had   occurred.  And  then  massive  tears  of  gratitude  followed  the  tear-­‐stream.  I  was  so   grateful  for  all  of  the  help  that  I  had  received  that  evening!  It  was  so  special,  and  with   each  hug  that  I  shared  with  the  baker,  my  neighbour  and  the  taxi  driver-­‐I  knew  and   felt  that  all  is  good.  And  then  I  bawled  tears  of  ….well,  just  a  release  of  overwhelming   positive  feelings,  which  I  simply  could  not  hold  back!.  

Gratitude is  the  memory  of  the  heart.     Probverb    

Copyright 2012  -­Paula  Laurel  Jackson  


The Baker, The Neighbour and the Taxi Driver  

a story of being grateful