“Look at my eyes.” I’d be on my way to Alaska or Ireland (dream destinations requiring funding) if I had a dollar for every time I’ve said that to a child or student of mine. We ask for that focused attention when what we desire to communicate really matters.
While standing before the mirror with electric curling brush in hand this morning, trying to become presentable for the day, I mulled over the activities of yesterday. Thursday was such a gorgeous spring day that Melanie, over for her usual Thursday morning with Gramma, and I went outdoors for awhile. While we sat on the front porch, having previously walked around the neighborhood a little bit, my neighbor Barbara appeared outside her house across the street. We exchanged a waved greeting, and I got Melanie to wave to her too. Then we crossed the four lanes of Rudisill Boulevard to have a little spring visit with Barbara. Thinking about that this morning, it hit me squarely in the forehead: not once during our five-minute neighbor chat yesterday did I ever truly make eye contact with her. I had my sunglasses on, and I was holding Melanie. Our conversation was about what was growing–the green, living things in front of my neighbor’s house and the little just-turned-1 1/2-year-old in my arms. As we spoke of those things, it was to them my gaze traveled. But, in the whole of our chat, I cannot recall once locking eyes with Barbara. I regret it. (How many times have I told my own kids it is only good manners to look at people when they’re speaking to you?)
Still working on the hair as I stood in front of my morning mirror, my mind immediately jumped to a contrasting situation from my late afternoon Wal-Mart stop yesterday. The young guys (twenty-somethings?) in front of me were buying beer; the cashier appeared, by their treatment of her, to be invisible to them. Although pleasant enough in manner, she was clearly not a woman that young adult males would have labeled physically attractive. In fact, “attractive” was not the first word that would have come to my descriptive mind either. But, we are not all born beauties, and how I am treated in the checkout line is far more important to me than the appearance of the cashier. My turn came; among my purchases were two cartons of fruit juice. I noticed that the check-out lady double bagged those and, as I removed those items from the bag carousel to my cart, I thanked her for it. She finished checking out and bagging my order, I paid, and was leaving with my usual, “Thanks–I appreciate it”, when, in that split second, something made me look her in the eye. That split second eyelock, concurrent with my words of thanks, transformed her face by a resulting radiant smile. I didn’t linger beyond the moment and, really, forgot all about the emotional transaction till I was dealing with my own face–and hair–in the mirror this morning.
Now I’m thinking about it. We ask for focused attention when what we desire to communicate really matters. But, how often do we offer it when what we desire to communicate–gratitude, empathy, passion, truth–really matters?
I like this. So hard to remember to do, but so rewarding when we do. Thanks for the reminder!
So true, so TRUE, Amy! I know that I struggle with sometimes thinking that cashiers’ purposes encompass meeting MY needs and giving me what I want. I forget how much it hurts me when I’m working and customers don’t acknowledge ME. Some people are just in a hurry, but I think others just don’t realize the effect that their lack of eye contact and lack of polite words has on me. Let’s hope that they have an epiphany sometime in the near future. Regardless, the world doesn’t revolve around me, so I’ll treasure moments of kindness from my fellow man all the more. And, I’ll work on more frequently taking that extra 10 seconds to pause and connect.
Even if I may be a week late in commenting, I wanted to thank you for pointing this out. How often do we not look someone in the eye?
The question is: now that you’ve had a week to reflect on it, have you taken the opportunity to see how many other people can see Jesus love by knowing that you care?