five little words

She called me on my son's twenty-fourth birthday, on April 25th of this year. I had poured all of the blood, sweat and tears of my story into two essays in the previous few months. My work was done. I had interviewed. I had visited the school. She didn't have to say those five little words, but she did. And she put a forever mark of kindness on my soul.


She didn't have to say them. She could not have possibly known what her words would mean to me. She couldn't have. She only really knows me as an "applicant", someone who wants to come to the school where she works. She is an admissions counselor. It is her job to recruit people. It is her job to make phone calls. To offer assistance. To provide information to would-be students of their graduate programs. 

Her call in April was to tell me the good news. The essays were tough for me. I had to dig deep into my story...the nitty and the gritty. In one of them I had to find an aspect of my story to compare to a film vignette from Paris Je t'aime. A movie I had never heard of and frankly, it was a little weird in my book. I really had to do some searching to find that commonality. But, I did it. The other essay was supposed to answer a question like, "What excites you about this school? Share your story as it relates to your desired life work and passions." Something like that.

I graduated with a Social Work degree in 1986. Let's just say, many moons ago. Could I write in the APA style? (I hadn't a clue...had to research online.) Could I make the needed parallels with my story? Could I put words together to even make any sense to the admissions team? I have to be honest. I had a lot of doubts. I really did. 

So, her call in April. The first few words after hello were, "Congratulations! You've been accepted!"  What she said next is what will forever be etched in my memory. She said, "It is pretty much the consensus of the admissions team that you are a very engaging writer. And, as for me personally, I just reread your essays to prepare to call you, and I think you are a beautiful writer."  It's those last few words, but really the last five that sank way deep down into a place in me that mattered. Those words touched me deeply because they touched the place where my wounding has taken place. My voice. 

She didn't have to say those last five words. She couldn't have known what those words would really mean to me. But, she said them and I have been forever touched by her kindness.