I haven't blogged in a while. Okay, a long while. Basically, life has been very busy, stressful, eventful, mind-blowingly full, etc. All the superficial excuses that have a hint of truth without letting you all in on too many details.
I just saw a post on Facebook from a friend who just unloaded about the stresses in her life. I can relate to almost everything she said. We all get to a point where the pressures and speed-bumps in life take their toll on our emotional well-being. It's overwhelming sometimes.
That started me thinking. I've always been a people-watcher. I'm the guy driving down the freeway next to you who watches you bee-bopping to your loud radio or arguing with your significant other or straining your back to swing at the kids in the backseat. I'm the guy who counts how many drivers are on the phone or texting during my commute to and from work. I'm the guy who sits on a park bench, watching people walk by, wondering about their lives, trying to guess what they do for a living, etc.
We each live in our own sort of sphere. It's like our own little world where no one really knows what's happening but us. We control access to our little world. We allow others to see only what we want them to see. Sort of like Facebook. I have a two-year-old daughter. She's the most angelic, beautiful, loving child in the world... er... most of the time. But you will only see the good things about her on Facebook. I choose what to show you, and I know you aren't interested in the periodic tantrums, accidents, discipline, and such. You only want to see the cute stuff. The funny quotes, or the picture of her in her new dress.
We all do that to an extent. We put our best foot forward and show others an idealized version of ourselves. It's good to a point. Everybody doesn't need to know all of our woes and worries. But most of us go overboard in portraying a Norman Rockwell version of our lives, when in reality we might be facing extreme difficulties or anxieties.
It just struck me when I read that Facebook post I mentioned, that every one of us has a story. Every person you see is a complete story. Think about this for a moment: You are driving to work and you see a perfectly fit young lady jogging down the sidewalk, wearing the latest athletic gear, white iPhone earbuds stuck in her ears, with a perfect stride. Or you see that person in the sixty thousand dollar Mercedes and the perfect hairstyle sitting next to you at a stoplight. You go to lunch at a fast-food restaurant and the frazzled girl behind the counter doesn't do something the way you'd like it done. You go to dinner and the server entertains you and makes your dining experience a very pleasant one. All of those people have their own struggles. Maybe that perfectly fit jogger in the fancy athletic gear just lost a parent to cancer. Maybe she's jogging to clear her mind because she's not sure how to cope with the deep sense of sadness and loss. Or the guy in the Mercedes with the cutting-edge hairstyle has come to a place where his life seems hollow and meaningless. He's realized that he's spent so much time focused on building his business that he's lost touch with anyone who might bring love and fulfillment into his life. Or the girl at the fast-food restaurant whose old beater of a car wouldn't start this morning, and she's not sure how she's going to get home after work because she can't afford to get it fixed. Or the server at the restaurant with the infectious laugh and pleasant demeanor who might have four children, two of whom are sick with a fever, but she can't take time off to be with them because she can't afford to lose any income.
We all get so wrapped up in our own issues and struggles that we cease to be aware that everyone's problems are every bit as real and every bit as important and every bit as all-consuming as ours.
Perhaps if we took a step back and just quietly watched the world around us... just watched the eyes of the people who silently pass through our view... just listened to the deep, almost silent sighs of the people with whom we interact... Maybe, just maybe, we'd be more understanding, forgiving, and gracious.
It's a lofty goal, but it can be done. Take a fresh look in the windows of the cars that pass. Look your server in the eye. Listen to the silence as much as you listen to the words... and be patient with one another. Be kind to one another.
