“Pain throws your heart to the ground.
Love turns the whole thing around.”
-John Mayer song

I first met Julie about 10 years ago when I became a Costco member. Julie is the Costco greeter and the one who checks to make sure that customers have their Costco cards upon entering the store.

The first thing I noticed about Julie is that she is in a wheelchair. The next thing I noticed is her light-up-the-room-in-one-second-flat smile and her warm presence. This woman literally oozes radiance and love.

There have been times when I’ve been in a bad mood and gone to Costco and flashed my card at Julie and she’s flashed me her I’ll-melt-your-hard-heart-into-a-fire-roasted-marshmallow smile.

Does light win over dark? With Julie it happens every single time I’ve gone to Costco in a bad mood.

I know I’m not the only one she has this effect on because I’ve seen the way other hurried Costco shoppers soften, slow down and smile when they see Julie’s smile.

A few years ago I went through a challenging time around the holiday season. My mom had died many years before around the holiday time period and I was feeling very sorry for myself.

I couldn’t stop going through the familiar mental loop of how unfair it was that my mom died when I was so young (I was 20 when she died).

I was angry at God, angry at everyone who had a mom, angry that the holidays were here and I was especially angry at myself that I couldn’t just let my anger at the world go. Nothing I tried could shake my bitter mood.

I went to Costco to get my Duraflame firelogs so I could at least comfort myself with a warm fire. Before doing my shopping I headed to the restroom and Julie the Costco Greeter was there in the long line of people. I stood behind her wheelchair waiting my turn. She turned to look back at me and smiled.

Part of me wanted to hold on to my anger (“Life is unfair, goddamn it!”) but how could I with this angelic person staring up at me from her wheelchair with those eyes of liquid warmth and a smile that was the Jaws-of-Life to my hardened heart?

We began talking and she told me her story:

As a teenager, Julie had everything going for her. She had a 3.7 GPA, was going out with her high school sweetheart, she was athletic and played basketball, she was considering going to law school, she’d been a runner up in the Miss Marin beauty pageant.

On August 25, 1989, at the age of 20, her life changed in an instant.

Julie got into a car accident and wasn’t expected to survive. After 3 months in a coma she finally awoke, mostly paralyzed and with much of her short-term memory impaired. She couldn’t walk and could barely talk. Her high school sweetheart broke up with her. She turned 21 in her hospital room.

The ray of hope was that the doctors told her she would probably walk within a year.

They were wrong.

Though she was able to (with help) stand and shuffle a bit, even that slight movement really taxed her energy. After months and eventually years of physical therapy she realized that she would never really walk again.

I felt a sense of kinship with Julie because in 1989 both of our lives had irrevocably changed at the tender age of 20.

While most kids were turning 21 at the local bar, Julie had turned 21 in her hospital room and I had turned 21 grieving the loss of my mom who had died just a month before my birthday.

But the way we’d handled our respective losses was vastly different. Where I had gotten hard and bitter, Julie had actually gotten more optimistic than she’d been before her accident.

Yesterday I met Julie and her husband Paul for lunch. I reminded Julie of our conversation years before and I had tears in my eyes when I finished the story.

“Don’t cry,” Julie said with a smile. “Don’t be sad.”

“Actually, these are happy tears, Julie,” I said. “Thanks to you I left that bitter and angry victim part of myself in the bathroom at Costco!”

We both laughed.

I found out today that it takes Julie three hours just to get ready for her shift at Costco. 3 hours! What takes me 30 minutes to shower, comb hair, put on clothes and makeup takes Julie six times as long because her right arm is paralyzed and she has only partial use of her left arm. When she gets home it takes her about an hour to take off her clothes and her makeup. A five hour shift at Costco actually requires nine hours of her day.

“I’ve learned patience from her,” says her husband Paul. “Patience and optimism. I’m so used to her smile and her spirit now, after all of these years of being with her. I’m reminded at least once a day by others who say how special she is.”

Here’s some of the story of Paul and Julie:

About two years after the accident, Julie was feeling lonely at home. She called a taxi to take her to the local nightclub where she met Paul.

“I liked her right away. We danced that night. I held her and we danced,” Paul said.

“I liked his eyes. The way he looked. He was nice-looking,” Julie said.

Their first official date was memorable: they couldn’t fit Julie’s wheelchair into Paul’s Corvette so they used her walker to shuffle her into the restaurant but it took them forever to get into the restaurant.

When Julie had to use the bathroom, Paul carried her into the ladies room.

Talk about chivalrous.

Paul:
“When I met Julie the timing was perfect. I’d left my job and had some savings and was looking for a calling, for something to do with my life that was meaningful. I had the house and cars. Being with Julie and helping her gave a spiritual direction to my life. I knew that I wanted to help Julie.

My ex-wife was a great cook and house cleaner and Julie doesn’t do any of that. And our house is a mess and I can’t cook at all. But I realized that those things don’t really matter to me when it comes to a relationship.”

And the best thing about his relationship with Julie?

“She’s strong-willed so we will have fights from time to time. Not a lot of fights but sometimes we will fight. And 10 minutes later she’s forgotten what we are fighting about. I’ve had relationships with people who hold on to things for 6 months. Holding onto things destroys relationships. Because of her short-term memory loss, Julie doesn’t remember our fights. That part is great for our relationship.”

We laugh.

Paul and I walk out of the restaurant with Paul pushing Julie. He helps her up into their truck. It’s time for her shift at Costco.

I say goodbye to the two of them and drive home with an inner and outer smile.

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