Ah, winter in the Midwest.

Last week, just when I was contemplating our good fortune at having relatively mild temps and negligible snow accumulation, we welcomed a “wintery mix,” as the TV weather lady might say, a mixture of snow and rain.  This, of course, provided me with a good reason to stay inside for a couple days and binge watch TV.

When I did decide to venture out into the world, and ease my car through the alley and into the street, I knew I had to give myself extra time to scrape and brush my car.

#*@%!  When I tried to lift my passenger side windshield wiper to clean the surface, it wouldn’t budge. It was frozen to the surface.

After some scraping, I got the wiper blade free, but it was no longer operational. Like a dangling arm after incurring a dislocated shoulder, the blade just flopped around when the mechanism was engaged.

I needed a replacement blade. This mission went to the top of my to-do list. My protective inner voice told me not to wait until it snowed or rained again.

The first place I went to didn’t have the right size. The next day, which was sunny (thankfully), I headed to a nearby Auto Zone store and told the clerk the make and model of my car.

He walked me to the appropriate aisle and told me some of my options. Not exactly because I thought the driver’s side wiper would get jealous, I still felt strongly that these kinds of parts wear out at the same time and decided to get new blades for both sides.

When I followed the clerk back to the register, fumbled to get the right side of my credit card into the reader, and was presented with a gallon of orange colored wiper fluid on the house, I watched the clerk reach for his jacket, my still packaged purchases in his hand. He headed towards the door.

“Where are you parked?” he asked without expression.

There were only two cars in the customer parking lot at the time.

I blinked then led the way

Was he going to help me put on my new blades?  My mind was already thinking about how I would get this done. Maybe not overly complicated, still the task was not in my repertoire.

I didn’t even have to ask. I smiled.

I watched him get the passenger’s side blade on easily. Then he excused himself while he retreated into the store to get a screwdriver, which, apparently, he needed to get the longer blade, for the driver’s side, securely in place.

In the minute that he was not in the lot with me, I fumbled through my purse to find a five-spot to offer for his troubles.

I was so delighted.  I’m not sure why exactly.

Yes, I was pleased with myself that I took care of a small concern before it became a big problem.

Yes, I was happy that I got what I needed in a timely way (and got free wiper fluid, too).

But, I was especially happy – and incredibly grateful – to get the help I needed without having to ask. To me, it’s a special feeling of being in the flow of life when something comes to me at the perfect time.

I had no expectations of receiving such treatment.

Knowing that the best way to be delighted with gestures and outcomes that might surpass expectations is to have NO EXPECTATIONS is no small thing.