We were heading to a friend’s house loaded down with a salad and deviled eggs. Forty eight on a slippery ceramic platter, all touching the edges of the plate. A tight fit to be sure and I worried about the strength of my plastic wrap.
I slowed way down from sixty to like twenty to try to make the left-hand turn off the thoroughfare onto our next fast road. I’m sure the folks sitting in line next to me were beside themselves with impatience for my slowness. I wished I had a sign for my windshield: “Deviled Eggs Onboard—I’m going as fast as I can go without making them slide onto the carpet!” I notice this a lot in the winter months when I’m taking soup to people for dinner. It’s always the easiest thing I can think of (with bread) and takes just minutes to make, any kind, just usually my go-to. But I always forget what it’s like to transport because I wind up in the same situation every time. Soup slopping out of the sides no matter how slow drive. And inevitably I end up taking the hilly route. Good grief.
I asked the lady at Lowe’s the other day where the 5 gallon buckets and twist-on lids were kept. I don’t know why that annoyed her so much, but she seemed to huff when she had to show me, even when I told her I was fine—just tell me which aisle. When we got there I asked if the lids she was showing me would work with the other buckets Todd had previously bought. More irritated now, she was snippy and made me feel foolish, like why didn’t we just check when we bought the buckets in the first place and puffed off. I wanted to run back to her little paint station after we tried on the ones she showed us and tell her she was an idiot. The lids we wanted still weren’t in stock. Which is why we didn’t buy them in the first place. Which is why we didn’t know if they’d work. Sigh. You know I didn’t. But what a temptation!
I thought of my soup days. And my deviled egg deliveries. And I couldn’t help but wonder if she had something in her trunk as well. Because I assume most people are pretty nice unless they’ve got something going on we just can’t see. I just can’t believe people who are truly happy inside would radiate meanness, doesn’t compute. Most days it’s easy to be amiable, but I know when I’m on edge. It’s not really anything anyone’s doing, it’s usually something no one knows anything about that I’m dealing with inside.
I remember watching a little clip* on Facebook years ago letting us see thought bubbles into what various patients and family members and hospital personnel were feeling as they seemingly went along. So insightful.
I try to make up my own for the people around me. Because I’m sure when people are impertinent it’s because they’ve got something going on at home or because they don’t feel well or someone was rude to them or they’ve had some bad news or they’re running on empty. I guess I just assume there’s more to the story.
I can’t decide if I’d like little thought balloons trailing after me in real life. Sometimes I wish I could explain to people what’s going on inside, that I had a way to tell my story. Really, I’m just tired and feeling overwhelmed and unbalanced. I’m worried about a friend, I don’t know what to do about it, I feel so helpless. I’m waiting for a result of a test, I’m scared it will change everything and that I won’t be strong enough. I feel so bad that I hurt someone’s feelings, I'm absorbed thinking about it and can’t really focus on anything else right now. I wonder if I’m the mom I need to be, I’m worried that I’ve left out some of the most important parts and now it’s getting to be too late. I can’t decide if I should be more careful with our money or more generous and I wonder if I’ll ever get it right. Am I where I should be, I worry that I’m wasting my time and energy, is this right?
Anyway, you can see why I’m not sure if I want these kinds of thoughts floating around out there. I feel silly for even having them when I’m sure most adults have already figured this kind of stuff out.
But the simple visual of eggs sliding across the back of the van or soup sloshing out the sides of the pot brings me to this point of wondering if everyone carries these kinds of loads around as well. Over the years, as we get to know people, we’re allowed to view their bubbles and they share what’s really going on inside.
“I’m worried about my daughter. I don’t want to push her, but I’m scared.” “I’m not sure where I fit in. Should I move? Do I belong here anymore? Is this what my life is supposed to look like?” “I feel completely overwhelmed and have no idea when it will get better or how to make things better.” “I don’t know who I can trust.” “We wish people would stop judging our son.” “I wish my daughter had a good group of friends. Or even one solid friend.” “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
But what about the ones who don’t let us in? The ones we’re not that close to? Or don’t know all that well yet? That’s when it gets tricky. We think we know their story and what they’ve got in back, we think we can see in through the windows, but most of the time we’ve got it all wrong. We can’t see everything she’s carrying because her windows are tinted or it’s on the floor.
Almost all of us walk and drive around as if we don’t have a care in the world, as if all we have in our trunk is some styrofoam peanuts instead of delicacies we need to guard fastidiously. We rarely let on that we’re afraid everything will slosh out and make a mess, and that once that happens we’ll never get the smell out or the mask we were wearing back on straight. If the eggs slip, if our tongues slip, where will we be then?
And so I drive up and down the hills of my town and of my life without many people knowing what’s really inside. They’re likely impatient. They might be telling the people beside them what they think of the way I’m doing it all. I’m sure they have no idea what’s going on, that I’m just worried about my soup and my eggs.
You know I love this sentiment from Elder Ashton, I’ve shared it all before.
Perhaps the greatest charity comes when we are kind to each other, when we don’t judge or categorize someone else, when we simply give each other the benefit of the doubt or remain quiet. Charity is accepting someone’s differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn’t handle something the way we might have hoped. Charity is refusing to take advantage of another’s weakness and being willing to forgive someone who has hurt us. Charity is expecting the best of each other.
None of us need one more person bashing or pointing out where we have failed or fallen short. Most of us are already well aware of the areas in which we are weak. What each of us does need is family, friends, employers, and brothers and sisters who support us, who have the patience to teach us, who believe in us, and who believe we’re trying to do the best we can, in spite of our weaknesses. What ever happened to giving each other the benefit of the doubt? What ever happened to hoping that another person would succeed or achieve? What ever happened to rooting for each other?**
This attitude can be so helpful as we pass drivers we’re not sure about and people whose stories we’re not privy to. As I wonder to myself what their little bubbles would say, it helps me slow down and not be so hasty with a judgment. I guess I just assume most people have as much junk in their trunks as I do, which makes it that much easier to wish them well as we pass and wave to each other on the road home.
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