This past weekend, I traveled to St. Louis, MO to attend my 1 year college reunion (we're a tight-knit people; don't judge us). I decided to wait until Wednesday night to do all of my laundry and find my floor beneath the numerous things that can accumulate on a floor in 3 weeks. Like most things in my life, it seemed like a good idea at the time: staying up all night to clean. I also figured 2am on a weeknight was a good time to wash and deep condition my hair. While I was at it, I added packing, eating, catching up on Glee and shaving my armpits to the list. I managed to do all these tasks with minimal (and by minimal, I mean multiple) distractions.
My original plan did include sleep, but the best laid plans of mice and men are...something something something... Who knows. I bet they don't include sleep. Anyway, 4pm creeps silently in and although I've rearranged my crayon collection, g-chatted, watched half of a random movie and planned a weekend of outfits (with alternates provided for sudden mood changes), I have not slept.
I drive to my grandmother's apartment so she can take me to the airport. I am convinced that I'm not sleepy, but I listen to very crunk music on their 40 minute ride there...just in case. In the 20 minutes it takes to drive to LAX from her apartment, I manage to fall fast asleep. I do not remember falling asleep; I just...did. I stumble out of the car and groggily check in. I somehow manage to shuffle through security without any spontaneous bouts of narcolepsy and I am beginning to feel somewhat awake by the time I get to my gate. There are only 20 minutes until boarding time, so I set my alarm and take a cat nap. My alarm sounds for an entire minute before I wake up. I gather my things and prepare to board the plane: group 3, seat 35D (an aisle seat...ew). I think to myself, I should be on the plane in 5 minutes and then I can sleep for 4 hours.
Suddenly I realize that I have fallen asleep again. I awaken, startled, to an empty terminal and the threatening sounds of the last boarding call. Why did no one wake me?!! I zoom onto the plane as fast as grogginess will allow and they nearly let the aircraft's door hit me where the good Lord split me. I am frazzled by the flight that almost wasn't. Sleep deprivation has dulled my motor skills and I bruise 38 knees on the way to my seat. When I finally arrive at my seat (when did they start making planes so long??), my neighbor demonstrates her tiny act of love.
She is entirely too happy for 6am and she is about my age and height. I don't even notice her until she invades my frazzled space with her kindness.
"Do you need some help?" Bright smile, eager nod.
Blank stare. Confusion. Sleeplessness. "...huh?"
"Do you need some help?" Still bright. Still eager.
I haven't even lifted my bag yet...just rolled it from place to place. I guess it can't be that heavy. Besides, why is she offering to help me? I don't look like I need help, do I? No need to inconvenience her...I'll just do it myself.
"Oh no...thanks, but I got it." Friendly, 6am-appropriate smile. Polite.
"No. You need help. Here...let me help you." REALLY bright. REALLY eager. She says it like I don't really have a choice and is out of her seat before I can protest.
Stranger Girl walks with me until we find an empty bin (not an easy task on a full airplane). I am still confused by her niceness, but too sleepy to argue. Why are we so resistant to kindness?? I begin to lift the bag and realize that 7 outfits and 2 pairs of shoes are actually pretty heavy. She takes the bag from me like it's hers, pops it into the bin, smiles cheerfully and walks back to her seat.
"There you go." Simple. Selfless.
"Thanks a lot. You didn't have to do that."
She smiles and shrugs. We sit next to each other and don't speak another word. All the previous frazzle has dissipated and Stranger Girl is still smiling. I feel...seen and we both fall asleep in comfortable silence.
Her act of love is complete when I overhear a man offer to get her luggage down for her when the plane lands. She smiles and lets him.
Love looks like a smiling stranger.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Anything for a smile
My Pastor must have an incredible memory. I told him my name exactly one time, in passing, and he has never forgotten. Whenever I see him, he hugs me and calls me by all five letters of my name. I feel seen; I feel important; and what's more, I feel loved. Pastor, mimicking Christ and His father, possesses and expresses a love that is godly and pure and readily available to anyone he meets. I believe that even if an acquaintance of Pastor Kerwin's was subpoenaed as a Character Witness, he would give (at the very least) the same testimony.
I say all that to say: today PK (Pastor Kerwin) privileged me with seeing yet another example of itsy bitsy love.
Church has gotten out. People are mingling, talking, hugging. Children chase each other on the grass and get too near the concrete for parental comfort. Women keep a close watch on those children, whether they belong to them or not. We send laughs into the air that sound like songs. Some people sing literally. The teens have let their guards down, pushed away their bangs and lifted up the brims of their hats long enough for us to see their faces. Men are packing things up, holding doors open, heartily slapping one another on the back. There is love all around, and it's for free.
I'm wearing a dress among a sea of jeans because that's just how I roll. I am hungry and my knees are freezing in the air of a randomly cold Pasadena day. But my heart is warmed when I see my Pastor make an absolute fool for himself in the name of a smile.
I see him jumping around and I hear the laughter before I understand what's going on. As I walk closer, I notice Pastor Kerwin is doing a Bojangles-esque jig and has even created an accompanying song. One might presume that this man of God, dressed smartly in a suit, should be a bit more...conservative in decorum. But true love, especially as demonstrated within and through the church, has little room for pious presumption. A goofy grin is plastered on his face and he seems completely unaware that he is embarrassing both himself and the Black race in broad daylight. Before I have time to be properly offended or ashamed, I notice his audience. Pastor is dancing, spinning, singing, goofing, miming and actin' a fool for the viewing pleasure of little baby Grace- stone faced in her mother's arms. The 8 month old is attentive and interested, but not yet amused. So Pastor continues to dance. And he dances until little Grace sneezes and finally cracks a smile.
I guess sometimes love looks just like a jig in broad daylight.
I say all that to say: today PK (Pastor Kerwin) privileged me with seeing yet another example of itsy bitsy love.
Church has gotten out. People are mingling, talking, hugging. Children chase each other on the grass and get too near the concrete for parental comfort. Women keep a close watch on those children, whether they belong to them or not. We send laughs into the air that sound like songs. Some people sing literally. The teens have let their guards down, pushed away their bangs and lifted up the brims of their hats long enough for us to see their faces. Men are packing things up, holding doors open, heartily slapping one another on the back. There is love all around, and it's for free.
I'm wearing a dress among a sea of jeans because that's just how I roll. I am hungry and my knees are freezing in the air of a randomly cold Pasadena day. But my heart is warmed when I see my Pastor make an absolute fool for himself in the name of a smile.
I see him jumping around and I hear the laughter before I understand what's going on. As I walk closer, I notice Pastor Kerwin is doing a Bojangles-esque jig and has even created an accompanying song. One might presume that this man of God, dressed smartly in a suit, should be a bit more...conservative in decorum. But true love, especially as demonstrated within and through the church, has little room for pious presumption. A goofy grin is plastered on his face and he seems completely unaware that he is embarrassing both himself and the Black race in broad daylight. Before I have time to be properly offended or ashamed, I notice his audience. Pastor is dancing, spinning, singing, goofing, miming and actin' a fool for the viewing pleasure of little baby Grace- stone faced in her mother's arms. The 8 month old is attentive and interested, but not yet amused. So Pastor continues to dance. And he dances until little Grace sneezes and finally cracks a smile.
I guess sometimes love looks just like a jig in broad daylight.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Blog's Inspiration and Molehill or Mountain?
The inspiration for this blog came from realizing how many times the tiniest act changed the entire course of my day. In the spirit of brevity, I will stop the explanation there. The following, is story number 1. We shall call this story: Molehill or Mountain?
Molehill or Mountain:
I work as a mental health counselor and often my work takes me into the field. On this particular day, I was traveling to a hospital near Echo Park. I googled directions and went on my merry way. Google did not feel it was necessary to inform me that I would be traversing the slopes of southern California to get to the hospital. And why anyone would build a road that goes over a hill is beyond me...but I am getting ahead of myself.
The freeway was clear and I was singing to myself. I get off the freeway and follow directions closely because I am prone to getting lost for hours and ending up in cities that do not even border my desired destination. Suddenly, I find myself at the bottom of a very steep hill. I am in one of the more...crusty...work vehicles that is known to squeal and squeak and display warning messages at random. I take a deep breath and begin lugging a few thousand pounds of metal up the hill, praying all the while. At one point in time another car appears on the thin road coming toward me and I pull over to let him pass. It is a man in a rusty utility truck and he waves a thank you.
I am now in the middle of the upward slope and I have to give the car a fair amount of gas to keep from rolling, butt first, to my imminent death. I reach the hill and feel successful. I look at my directions and they tell me to continue to drive straight. I begin to do this and realize that I do not see any road in front of me on which to drive straight. I look down and see blue sky and trees...but no road. My powers of deductive reasoning tell me that this road was built on a veritable hill...one side goes up, the other goes down (not sure why I didn't think of this while going up the hill-would have taken other route). I, being afraid of heights, start to hyperventilate and wonder out loud how I'm going to live through this and why in the world someone would build a road like this! I dramatically think about how many people have died on this road but do not notice any bodies lying around. I realize that my two options include blindly driving down a very steep hill or going backwards down its less steep but nonetheless frightening other side.
I'm just starting to cry when a man appears from a tiny (and presently unreachable) sidestreet. We'll call him Blond Man in Yellow Shirt, BMYS for short. BMYS shows me a tiny 15 second act of love and helps me conquer a 23 year old fear. He pauses his car, gives me his biggest smile and a thumbs up and shouts (I assume he shouted because I cannot hear him-both our windows are up...maybe he mouthed it. Who knows. I imagine he shouted, though...anyway...)"YOU CAN DO IT!!!!" I nod and one little tear falls. He nods his head encouragingly and I grab my steering wheel and drive down that mountain. My car groans in protest and I have to keep my foot pressed firmly on the brake to keep the car from gaining too much momentum.
I make it to the bottom 45 very scary seconds later and find myself in very pretty scenery. Feeling accomplished, I tell myself that driving over that molehill wasn't so bad! Then I turn around and see the big wall of gray divided by a dotted yellow line (Sidenote: DOTTED LINE!?!?! WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD EVER PASS ANYONE ON THAT ROAD??)and make a mental note to find another route back to the office.
I say a small prayer of thanks for the lovely man who took 15 seconds to demonstrate love and encourage a girl whose name he'll never know.
Molehill or Mountain:
I work as a mental health counselor and often my work takes me into the field. On this particular day, I was traveling to a hospital near Echo Park. I googled directions and went on my merry way. Google did not feel it was necessary to inform me that I would be traversing the slopes of southern California to get to the hospital. And why anyone would build a road that goes over a hill is beyond me...but I am getting ahead of myself.
The freeway was clear and I was singing to myself. I get off the freeway and follow directions closely because I am prone to getting lost for hours and ending up in cities that do not even border my desired destination. Suddenly, I find myself at the bottom of a very steep hill. I am in one of the more...crusty...work vehicles that is known to squeal and squeak and display warning messages at random. I take a deep breath and begin lugging a few thousand pounds of metal up the hill, praying all the while. At one point in time another car appears on the thin road coming toward me and I pull over to let him pass. It is a man in a rusty utility truck and he waves a thank you.
I am now in the middle of the upward slope and I have to give the car a fair amount of gas to keep from rolling, butt first, to my imminent death. I reach the hill and feel successful. I look at my directions and they tell me to continue to drive straight. I begin to do this and realize that I do not see any road in front of me on which to drive straight. I look down and see blue sky and trees...but no road. My powers of deductive reasoning tell me that this road was built on a veritable hill...one side goes up, the other goes down (not sure why I didn't think of this while going up the hill-would have taken other route). I, being afraid of heights, start to hyperventilate and wonder out loud how I'm going to live through this and why in the world someone would build a road like this! I dramatically think about how many people have died on this road but do not notice any bodies lying around. I realize that my two options include blindly driving down a very steep hill or going backwards down its less steep but nonetheless frightening other side.
I'm just starting to cry when a man appears from a tiny (and presently unreachable) sidestreet. We'll call him Blond Man in Yellow Shirt, BMYS for short. BMYS shows me a tiny 15 second act of love and helps me conquer a 23 year old fear. He pauses his car, gives me his biggest smile and a thumbs up and shouts (I assume he shouted because I cannot hear him-both our windows are up...maybe he mouthed it. Who knows. I imagine he shouted, though...anyway...)"YOU CAN DO IT!!!!" I nod and one little tear falls. He nods his head encouragingly and I grab my steering wheel and drive down that mountain. My car groans in protest and I have to keep my foot pressed firmly on the brake to keep the car from gaining too much momentum.
I make it to the bottom 45 very scary seconds later and find myself in very pretty scenery. Feeling accomplished, I tell myself that driving over that molehill wasn't so bad! Then I turn around and see the big wall of gray divided by a dotted yellow line (Sidenote: DOTTED LINE!?!?! WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD EVER PASS ANYONE ON THAT ROAD??)and make a mental note to find another route back to the office.
I say a small prayer of thanks for the lovely man who took 15 seconds to demonstrate love and encourage a girl whose name he'll never know.
The search begins!
I don't really need to look far to find love; it's everywhere! It's in the little things. It's in the big things. It's in us. Psalms 33:5 says:
The Lord loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of his unfailing love.
God, who is not merely an example of love but actually IS love (1 John 4:16), has filled the earth with Himself. Our job is to mirror Gods love to one another (John 15:17). I believe that people are capable of adhering to God's command to love. I even believe that people DO follow this command! So as I seek to love more and more like God, I will seek to SEE the love around me.
I purpose to see the beauty of love in all things (Philippians 4:8). I choose to point out even the most minute evidence of love, because I believe that where there is a little, there is potential for a lot.
Maybe if we paid more attention to love, people would be more lovely. Plus, I think it's a little rude that God illustrates all this love on a daily basis and we just ignore it.
So! Off we go!
See you on my search!
Love,
Sarah
The Lord loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of his unfailing love.
God, who is not merely an example of love but actually IS love (1 John 4:16), has filled the earth with Himself. Our job is to mirror Gods love to one another (John 15:17). I believe that people are capable of adhering to God's command to love. I even believe that people DO follow this command! So as I seek to love more and more like God, I will seek to SEE the love around me.
I purpose to see the beauty of love in all things (Philippians 4:8). I choose to point out even the most minute evidence of love, because I believe that where there is a little, there is potential for a lot.
Maybe if we paid more attention to love, people would be more lovely. Plus, I think it's a little rude that God illustrates all this love on a daily basis and we just ignore it.
So! Off we go!
See you on my search!
Love,
Sarah
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