Little gems

Sometimes, I find that I get quite dismayed at the state of the world and the condition of humankind. I mean, one trip to the grocery store confirms that manners, respect, and ethics are making a slippery and insidious escape from our culture. There are times when the disintegration is just too much for me, and I retreat to the security, peace, and goodwill of our little home...sometimes, for an entire weekend.

I seem to have the hardest time understanding drivers these days. It's a long story, but I truly have very little tolerance when it comes to inconsiderate, impatient, and dangerous drivers. When I was younger, screaming and yelling seemed to help, and I was convinced that this firecracker-like combustion was a genuine relief of my anger. Now, I am slowly starting to see my behavior from a different perspective, through newer, smaller, younger eyes. One day, my children will learn from my behavior, and I don't wish that they deal with things as I have.

I've also been analyzing my coping mechanisms by the barometer of my renewed faith. Many of you know that, after 9 months of classes and study, I became a Catholic last Easter. I really found that many, many tenants of Catholicism resonated with how I viewed the world. These things aren't unique to Catholicism, necessarily, but they validated ideas in which I have felt alone (or at least out-numbered) for a very long time. One such thing is the innate respect we are commanded to have for ALL of God's people...even the ones we classify as enemies (this was the caveat I hadn't considered before). Actually, we are told to pray hardest for those people. This tenant didn't mesh with how I was coping with the rudeness and disrespect of those around me (and I despise hypocrisy).

So, I've been trying very hard (with the support and encouragement of my ever-patient husband) to change my ways. It's been very difficult for me to "turn the other cheek" and to ask that good things befall those who anger me (rather then the wrath and revenge fantasies I normally entertained).

But it's funny how we get just the right help at just the right time...

After a particularly soul-draining drive home from the Bay Area this past weekend, Paul and I stopped at the grocery store before retreating home for the night. By the time I got to the check stand, I was fit to be tied and not remembering much of my desire to live as God commands. As we were standing there, I found myself asking for help...help to conduct myself as I would want my children to see me.

Just then, this wrinkled old man with dancing eyes sidled up next to Paul and me. He looked down at our cart and cracked a joke about how green our pears were. Paul heard him and chuckled...I was still too caught-up in my revenge fantasies. He walked away but returned 30 seconds later. This time, he walked up to ME and handed me a little wooden figure with a mouth and eyes and nose drawn with black marker. He told me that he had just made 86 of them for the Ronald McDonald house in Sacramento...to give to the kids. He wanted me to have one. I was so moved (knocked right out of my struggle for vengeance), and I asked for his name. "Archibald Sylvester," he said, with a twinkle in his eye that told me his name changed every time it was solicited.

I stood there and stared at that figure for, what felt like, a good ten minutes. As I got up to the check stand, I looked down the row of other check stands to find that almost every person waiting for their groceries to be bagged was holding one of these little figurines. They were all smiling...they were all enthralled...and they all, whether they realized it or not, had been given back some of their faith in humanity.

As you can see from the little picture, I now have the figurine (Paul and I go back and forth as to whether it's a dog, a cow, a horse, or a combination of all three) Velcroed to my dash board. Mr. Sylvester gave me a much-needed gift that day. Now, when I'm at wits-end as I attempt to navigate the battlefield of our everyday, I have this gentle reminder, a little gem, of how good things really are...of how good I can make them.