Monthly Archives: November 2015

A Most Ridiculous Mirror

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…Love is reflected in love. – Mary Baker Eddy

What the heck is going on out there?! Several of my students are dealing with it right now. A couple of my colleagues, too. Friends on Facebook are bringing it up in their posts. And I’ve also been afflicted by it recently. Actually… now that I think about it… it’s possible that I’ve not only been afflicted by it, but that I have been, unintentionally, the afflictOR on occasion.

We are looking at others as if we’re looking in a mirror. We assume everyone else sees the world in the same way we do and then criticize other people for our OWN faults, foibles, and nonsense. We think because WE are envious or angry or hateful or deceptive or manipulative or bullying or bigoted or frightened, everyone else must be, too. And then we tell other people that they feel this, or they think that, or they believe whatever – when really it is US who is feeling, thinking, and believing the whatever. Sheesh. It’s ridiculous.

Last week one of my students began tearing up as we were saying good bye. The tears welled out of her eyes and became streams. I asked her what was going on, and she told me that her mom had told her she was a loser – had told her that she destroys everything.- that she’s no good. And I was looking at this beautiful, talented, brilliant young person and my heart broke for her. She was believing all these lies about herself!

“Just because someone calls you a chair – does that make you a chair?” I asked her. She shook her head no. “Just  because someone calls you a table – does that make you a table?”  She said no. “And just because someone calls you a loser – does that make you a loser?” She wiped the tears from her face, and shook her head no. ““Listen to me. If somebody thinks you’re a chair, or a table, or a loser, or whatever – that is HER problem. She’s not seeing things right. You are amazing and smart and talented and beautiful.You are valuable. Say it: ‘I am valuable.’” My student started smiling then, and repeated my words to her. “Say it with conviction!” I ordered. And she did – she was laughing now.

Let’s know this about ourselves and each other: We are not tables or chairs. We are not haters or bigots or bullies or losers.We ARE valuable. We are worthy. We are the sons and daughters of Love, Truth, and Life.

Thou to whose power our hope we give,
Free us from human strife.
Fed by Thy love divine we live,
For Love alone is Life;
And life most sweet, as heart to heart
Speaks kindly when we meet and part.
– Mary Baker Eddy

mirror

“Jesus beheld in Science the perfect man, who appeared to him where sinning mortal man appears to mortals. In this perfect man the Saviour saw God’s own likeness, and this correct view of man healed the sick.”
– Mary Baker Eddy

Head for the Rainbows

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Another lesson from a visit with the folks’: I take Moz and Dad to a little bar and grill on Pearl Street – great food, but maybe not the best ambiance. Dad is sitting across from me, and he is not pleased. He whispers, “Why would we eat here when we can go down the hill a couple blocks and eat lunch on the waterfront?” This is a good question. So we gather up the cane and walker, get back in the car, and head down past the Point Defiance ferry to Anthony’s Restaurant. When we arrive we see a rainbow arching over the Puget Sound – a rainbow we’d have missed if we’d stayed in the other place. As soon as we sit down at our table a torrential downpour falls from the sky. We are sitting all cozy and comfortable and warm inside, while the deluge pounds against the deck outside. And when the rain stops – a DOUBLE rainbow appears over the Sound. Yup, Dad was right. Again. 🙂

If you’re going to take the trouble to go out for lunch, you might as well head for the rainbows, right?

Double Rainbows at Point Defiance

Double Rainbows at Point Defiance

The Noble and Heroic Pablo

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We are surrounded by heroes. Yesterday I discovered one at the local espresso stand. Or… I guess he discovered me, really. I had just ordered a mocha, and was waiting at the window to conclude the transaction, when I heard someone say in a gentle voice behind me, “I don’t want to embarrass you, but you have a tag on your pants.”  I turned around and saw this young man smiling at me, sort of apologetically. “You have a… ” – he stretched his fingertips out from each other vertically – “…a tag on your pants.”

When he stretched his fingertips out from each other length-wise, I knew he meant I had one of those long plastic strips on my jeans that tells what size they are – I had just bought those jeans the day before and hadn’t realized the plastic strip thingy was still affixed to them. This was embarrassing in so many ways – one of the chief ones being that my jeans size is not something you would ever hear me bragging about, if you know what I mean – and I certainly wouldn’t knowingly walk around with it affixed to my pants for everyone to see.

I started laughing and peeled off the strip. “Thank you!” I said, holding out my hand to shake his hand. And then I discovered that he knew how to shake hands the proper way! – shake, roll the thumbs over, bump fists, and end with a retreating finger-wiggle. He was surprised that I knew how to do this and, by way of explanation, I told him I teach at an alternative high school, so… yeah… “And that’s all the more reason to thank you for telling me about the plastic strip on my pants! Can you imagine how that would have gone over at the high school?!” He and I both laughed together then at the image that conjured up for us.

The barista made a joke about me wanting to leave the plastic strip on my pants to show off that I had new jeans. I pointed out that the plastic strip gave the size of my jeans which is not something I’d really like to advertise to the general public, and she and my hero chuckled about that. “But we’ll just keep my jeans size between ourselves, right?” I asked my new friend. He nodded in the affirmative, and assured me he would never tell – my secret was safe with him.

By this time my mocha was ready and my bill paid. My hero and I introduced ourselves, and I learned his name was Pablo. I asked him if I could take his picture and write about his noble and heroic self in my blog, and he good-naturedly agreed.

I’d almost made it back inside my car, when Pablo yelled to me, “You forgot your debit card! Oh! And you forgot your backpack!”

Sheesh.

“Thanks for taking care of me this morning, Pablo!” I said, grabbing my card and pack. And he smiled his hero’s smile and wished me a good day.

Pablo

Pablo the Heroic