Yesterday I made my very first (and hopefully my last) call to 911. I was walking home from work when I noticed that someone�s front lawn was on fire. The house is right next to the school where I work, and it is very likely that a student set fire to the piles of leaves along the bottom of the fence. (I later found out that the Fire Chief agrees with my assessment of the situation.)

There were visible flames and a lot of smoke, so I whipped out my cell phone and called 911. I got disconnected. Twice. That does not exactly inspire confidence.

Finally, I got the message across, and the fire engines arrived very quickly. I went home, feeling troubled over the thought of a young person showing such disregard for another person�s property.

Something else is bothering me, and perhaps I�m being silly, but, if you think so, please do it privately. I�m feeling pretty fragile right now, and don�t need my feelings hurt any more than they already are. You see, at first, I wasn't going to send Christmas cards this year because of everything that�s happened, but then I thought that maybe I should try to resume my normal activities. Well, guess what? It didn't work. For one thing, �normal� has changed for me. I�m not even sure what �normal� is anymore.

For another thing, many of the people I usually exchange cards with seem to have dropped me from their list, and I only received a fraction of what I normally do. I don't know... maybe people thought I wouldn't be in the mood to receive cards of holiday cheer, but the opposite is true. More than ever, I need to know that others are keeping me in their thoughts.

On a more positive note, a co-worker surprised me with a very touching gesture. She gave me a gift that was totally unexpected, and came from the heart. I found a festively wrapped box in my mail compartment, and when I opened the box, I was moved to tears. The package contained a bag of sand, an assortment of seashells, and a couple of tea lights.

In the accompanying card, my friend wrote: �You�ve had a very stressful year. When I saw this, I remembered how much you love seashells, and I just wanted to give you a token of friendship and caring. I hope when you assemble it, it will relax you, and bring you to a happy place. This is not given to 'get back.' Please don�t do that. It�s given out of sympathy for all you�ve been through and to help ease you out of some painful times.�

This expression of kindness has helped to take some of the bah out of my humbug.