Laughter is the Best Medicine

He may not be a doctor, but Mr. Squire knows that laughter is the way to his wife's heart.

Friday was an awful, awful, awful day at work.  I had had such high hopes for the day and was looking forward to heading to our church's leadership retreat for the weekend, and the morning was fine, early afternoon was fine, and then... kaboom! 

Since Mr. Squire is currently on break, he has had plenty of time to check in on me.  So when he heard that things had gone crazy-bad for me, he started texting me pictures during my last three hours at work, with the following captions (top to bottom):

1.  We want to stay home! Strike! Never let go!  (I had packed Doggy to go on the trip, and tried to convince him to bring Turtle and Pi, but he didn't want to bring the latter two)

2.  Pi:  Turtle, can you move over?  I don't have enough room!

3.  Nose to nose... Pick. Pick.  Hang in there!

4.  We're all with you.  Well, except Camel.  He's ready to push.  (Mr. Squire likes to joke that Camel is a bully, even though he totally isn't!)

People understand encouragement in different ways... some people receive it best through flowers, or candy, or a nice meal.  All of those things are nice, but what I find most touching are these pictures of my stuffies, arranged and captioned by my Mr. Squire.  Further affirmation that God picks the best spouses--way better than what I had imagined for myself.

Unfortunately, even all those adorable pictures were unable to save me from slinking out of the office, covertly trying to avoid any sort of interaction or contact with my colleagues.  I would have stayed until I looked less puffy- and teary-eyed, but I had to get down to Brooklyn in a hurry to catch my ride.  I rode the 2/3 train down to Union Square, found a seat on the train, and sat down and closed my eyes.  The events of the day replayed in my head and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face again.  How embarrassing--crying on a train during evening rush hour on a Friday night.  I never ever wanted to be that person.  Ever.  

But New York City surprised me.  As humiliated and embarrassed as I was, people showed me compassion.  Or at least two people did.  The woman next to me offered me tissues--twice (I turned her down)--and before she got off the train, she wished me well.  Then, when I got off at Union Square and wandered my way toward the L, I felt a hand gently touch my back.  I turned my head, and a young man with Dr. Dre Beats headphones gently said, "I just want to say...I hope your day gets better."  I burst into tears as I said a thank you, totally touched and moved.  Thank you, New York City, for showing me such kindness.