So, I might have come across as Pollyanna-ish in my first post. Joy, happiness and beauty to be celebrated. I believe it.
It was present on this very day. When I brought the guy at the bar a thick, beautiful slice of cake and explained how much I longed to taste it’s goodness. But that this dream in my heart inevitably placed 15 more pounds on my body during the winter months. This happiness burst through when he made the counter-cultural suggestion that I eat all the cake I want in the fall so that I can gain 15 lbs by winter and feel like a warm and happy woman, instead of cold and sad one.
It also shone through in the awkward teenage boy who was so pleased at having 4 servers sing for his birthday. . . in the other waitresses who were helpful like fairy god-mothers today. . . in my best friend’s husband who got my car un-stuck (from where I parked it) and helped shovel out the spot in the front of my house so I can drive to work tomorrow.
Still, it was a rough day, putting to test all my knowing God’s goodness in the land of the living. Where I mess up. In front of other people. And feel. . . less than.
I earned a high “A” today in single-tasking. But not in a delight-ful way. In a hard-on-my-pride way.
The story that follows is for all single taskers that shrink or withdraw when their vulnerability is shown. And it is for me, because I am one of them. Let me explain.
I am currently employed as a waitress. I have been for three months. It was a career leap, which I have adjusted to so-so. “So-so” you ask? Fair enough. You see,while waitressing makes sense for the engaging, hospitable parts of my personality, it is strongly hampered by my expertise in single-tasking. Take today, for example.
Today, I was a great waitress to many people, a decent waitress to almost the rest, and a poor waitress to one couple. For posterity’s sake, I will highlight my interactions with the couple.
I got them their drinks, salads, and dinners with poise and personality. Then, I was assigned sharing a large table of people (this is what we call a “party” though it never feels like it). This is my LEAST favorite thing to do, but I was determined to get it right this time. This is mostly because of my 3 month history at getting “parties” ‘not-right.’
I DID IT! I got the party right.
The only problem was, I forgot that one couple. When I went into the dining room where they sat I didn’t see them. . . although they were there. Or maybe I did. . . but they didn’t look familiar. If they looked familiar. . . I didn’t remember they were my responsibility.
My couple was thirsty. The way they got their drink refills was walking to the bar to ask for them. This is not traditional protocol.
One of my managers made me aware of this from the other end of the alley (where we prepare our food). This is area is about 20 feet long and contained about 7-10 of my co-workers. My manager updated me on my performance over the heads of these 7-10 co-workers, who could not have missed the tense, loud voice which reminded me of the desired protocol, and about how I was remiss in following it.
I kept working away the rest of the shift, but it took awhile to de-escalate. My traditional coping mechanism is to physically and emotionally shrink until I feel like you can’t see me anymore. But not today.
Today, I took a few (75?) deep breaths, waited for my face to change back to its traditional shade and told myself to
“Be brave,” I said. I said this more than once.
Some of what I meant was:
Don’t let yourself shrink, so small. Back to nothing.
It is not worth it.
It robs you.
It is a lie.
It doesn’t prepare you to do your best the next time.
It removes your ability to risk loving others and being loved. Should you deaden yourself to your next people just because you made a mistake 30 minutes ago?
And guess what was true for me? And is true for you too?
If you want to learn more about bravery and inspiring sensitive kids to be brave, see this: http://momastery.com/blog/2012/01/18/for-adam/ Here is a website with an inspirational blog. In it a Mom talks to her son about bravery. This spoke right into my heart. If you have children who are sensitive, pay close attention. They walk around feeling naked because of all the sadness and pain they see, then feel. This blog says something I never heard before, and points sensitive children (and their parents) in a good direction. Bravery.