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I sat down at a table today with four teens who are still learning English. Our goal was to learn the past tense of some irregular verbs, like drive/drove and eat/ate. Most of us who grew up in this country take for granted the fact that we know delightful grammar rules like this. This is often a struggle for these kids, and if you ever tried to learn a foreign language as an adult, you can sympathize.
So like I said, I sat down at the table today and started off with, “Today, we’re going to talk about verbs. What is a verb?” Fingers snapped in the air, accompanied by several “ums” and desperate appeals to the ceiling tiles. In their Spanish-mumbling, I heard the correct answer—in Spanish—so I asked them to teach me. It wasn’t enough to just tell me “accion”, they taught me an entire sentence: “Verbos es una palabra que espresa accion.” I butchered it. They corrected me. One boy fought to keep his hands from molding my jaw into the proper stance to pronounce the words. They erupted into loud applause when I finally got out all the words without stumbling.
Their eyes shined like they had just won permanent immunity from all standardized English tests. It was our moment. You see, it’s easy to dismiss these kids as slow or lazy when they don’t pick up the language the way we think we did. Believe me, there are many times I do that. There are days when I struggle to even smile at them because I don’t think I’m making a difference. It takes far more energy to embrace them and listen to what they have to say.
By the end of the lesson, they all knew the past tense of burst and caught. I was reminded again that the way to a person’s soul is to show them you care about who they are instead of who they should or could be. In the end, that’s all that matters because that’s all we really want anyway—to be loved.
Sometimes all you need in life is to hear that someone else’s face lit up at the mention of your name. It was a blissful moment today.
These moments today were so ridiculous that I cannot help but laugh at them.
With the clerk at the feed store carrying my 33 pound bags of dog food:
“I’m so sorry. There was no parking space up here when I got here, so I had to park all the way over there.”
“But there’s a space right here.”
“Yes, but I thought it would be more fun for you to carry 60 pounds across the parking lot.”
I don’t think he got it.
****
With the clerk at Subway:
“What bread do you want?”
“I want a wrap.”
“We don’t have wraps.”
“Um, is that just for today or for forever?”
“We ran out today, and we don’t have much bread. This is all we have.”
“Okay, so what kind of bread do you have?”
“What kind do you want?”
“Well, if that right there is all you have, then what difference does it make what I want?”
“Oh, I guess that’s true.”
Here’s a discussion I had today with some seventh-going-into-eighth graders getting ready to make strawberry shortcake.
“When you get into your groups, assign a new role. You cannot be the same thing you were the last time. That means everyone needs a different job.”
“Miss, I was the reader last time, and they are making me be the reader again.”
“Well, you can’t be the reader again. Mary, what is your job right now?”
“I’m the mixer.”
“Okay, well Sarah was the reader last time. She cannot be the reader again.”
“But I’m the mixer.”
“Fine, but Sarah cannot be the reader again.”
“But I’m the mixer and Donna’s the supply person. I was the supply person last time, and Donna was the mixer last time.”
“Okay, but Sarah was the reader last time, and she cannot be the reader again today.”
“I’m confused.”
“I don’t care if you’re confused or not. Go back and change jobs again so that Sarah is NOT the reader.”
“But…”
“Go!”
If you wrote your life’s story, what pieces would you intentionally skip? I know you have them. I have several blank spaces, thank you. They are chunks of life that I’d often rather see slide away into the nether regions of the universe and out of memory. At least, I used to.
I’m finding that I’m feeling more and more comfortable in my own skin of quirkiness and tragedy. After all, most of those blank spaces are filled with my embarrassing quirks or heart-wrenching tragedy. You see, I’d prefer that you not know my mother has a mental illness or that my heart was broken by the man who told me he loved me but wished I’d lose another 30 pounds or that I used to keep a set of children’s encyclopedias in the bathroom for that special reading.
Then there is the flip side. I realized today that I am a blank space. I think of all the people I’ve come in contact with in my life and the moments we’ve shared. In the long run, no matter how beautiful or life-changing or heartbreaking or disastrous those moments were, they’re now blank spaces in our biographies.
Part of me finds this sad, not because I think everyone who has ever crossed paths with me needs to shout it from the rooftops. No, I think it’s sad because I wonder what we’re losing out on. How would the world—and our lives—be different if we actually embraced our quirks and tragedies? What would happen if dropped the facades? Can you imagine the freedom in our relationships?
I’m not ready to be an entirely open book. There are, after all, many blank spaces that will follow me to my grave. But there are far more blank spaces that are testaments to my humanity. At the end of the day, that humanity is what we all have in common.
As I pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot, my big, white SUV was suddenly face to face (or grill to grill) with a bigger, black truck. The driver of the truck immediately gave me the, “What do you think you’re doing? Using a parking lot is like using an elevator: the person leaving goes first.” look. I happen to agree with him. I always let people exit an elevator before I attempt to get on…unless the elevator has a giant sign that says, “DO NOT GET OFF THE ELEVATOR HERE” plastered to the door.
It just so happens that McDonald’s was kind enough to put a Do Not Enter sign just before the giant, yellow EXIT sign with an arrow directing you to circle the building. I was feeling rather helpful this morning (in a three year old kind of way), so I pointed at him, mouthed “You”, pointed to the big yellow sign, pointed toward the building, and mouthed, “Exit.” Then I drove by him while he stared at me open-mouthed.
I hate it when the directions are so unclear.
Winnipeg, my Great Dane puppy, was outside yesterday running in the
yard while I stood there growing more and more impatient with her. Puppies don’t seem to understand that taking care of business isn’t supposed to be a major activity. I think this dog needs to be on Ritalin because she apparently heard an ant drop a bread crumb in the neighbor’s yard and stopped to debate if she needed to run over and offer her assistance. In the middle of said pondering, Winnie glanced over at me, slowly turned her head around as close as possible to her rear end, and started sniffing. She looked back over at me with that look…that “did you get a whiff of what just came out of there?” look. I assured her that I did not and was very happy that I did not because the look in that dog’s eyes told me all I needed to know. Dog farts are most certainly dangerous forces that should be unleashed only on drivers who cut in line and people who don’t flush public toilets.
I am really…really good at wasting time.
Last night, I shut down the computer and put away some work that I needed to do just because my body felt tired. I put a clay mask on my face, slathered on some organic lavender body lotion and painted my nails with my OPI Strawberry Margherita nail polish while watching some Seinfeld. It felt heavenly (and my nails look great).
In my study on the life of Christ, I was impressed yesterday with just how much alone time Jesus spent. I’ve always known that he withdrew from the crowds and prayed, but I think it was more than that. Check out the other blog for more on that.
I think the lesson here is to drop everything sometimes. It may require a surgical removal of the computer and television and telephone and all my mini-projects. I need this time, no matter how brief (last night’s break was only 20 minutes) to renew myself
Do you ever wonder what $390,000 can buy you? Apparently, it will get you a 10-year old 1300 square foot mobile home, detached 2 car garage, above ground pool, and a pole barn on 5 fenced acres. The neighborhood is a lovely patch of resurrected swamp land that will surely send you flocking to the beach in the summer just to get away from the mosquitoes.
Do I sound jaded yet? Keep reading. I checked the tax records for this piece of property and discovered that the seller purchased the property recently for $78,000. It gets better. The just market value is $208,000. We all know this person got a deal when they bought this. Hooray for them!
Do we ever learn? I’m all for capitalism and free trade, but when did free trade become synonymous with screwing other people? Don’t get me wrong…go ahead and make as much money as you possibly can. But be fair. Be just. Be reasonable. (This is why I could never sell time shares or be a pharmaceutical rep.) It breaks my heart that we all seem to sacrifice our humanity for cash.
What are these people thinking? Who in their right mind would even think of placing an offer on this property? I can’t help but think back to the Florida land boom of the 1920s. People bought property in Florida (often sight unseen) on the belief that the value would go up and they would become rich. Most of them lost their shirts. Is it ever enough?
