Like it or not, you and I live our lives onstage, every bit as much as any public figure or show biz performer.
You might laugh at that, but think about it. Even if we live alone, we interact with other people, whether by phone or text or email. Our words and our tone create a mental image for the receiver.
Or the casual observer. Like me, the day I waited to check out in a big box store behind a woman and her daughter, perhaps age eight or nine. The girl waited patiently while her mother wrote a check.
As the mom picked up her bag she paused and said to the checker. "Wait a minute. I bought five things, but I think you only charged me for four. Would you please look over my bill and find what I owe you?"
The twentyish clerk glanced over the shoppers behind me and replied, "But, Ma'am, you already wrote out your check. You'd have to tear it up and we'd have to start over. I really think you paid for all five."
I couldn't help noticing their faded but clean clothing. Nevertheless, this woman held her head up, and fixed her attention on the checker and calmly refused the offer. "I can't take something home if I haven't paid for it. Please figure out which one got missed, and I'll pay cash for that one item."
People behind me had stopped talking. I guessed they were watching, too. The clerk sighed, then compared price tags and the cash register receipt. Finally she said, "It's the most expensive one: $12.99."
The mom said, "Okay," and dug around in her well-worn purse for some wrinkled bills and a handful of coins, all the while explaining to her daughter what was going on. Soon the two were on their way out of the store.
Judging by the clerk's look of disbelief I suspect she later recounted this exchange to others. No doubt at least a few onlookers did, too.
That shopper so easily could have taken the freebie and run
This mom judged something more important than dollars and cents and her quiet firmness communicated a lot about her. She won't need to lecture her daughter about honesty. She lived it out as her daughter watched and listened, probably not for the first time. She also set an example for those of us who were waiting our turn.
Isn't that the best kind of parenting--and teaching?
Later I thought of an Albert Einstein quote I heard years earlier and never forgot:
"Example isn't another way to teach,
it is the only way to teach."
We are not who we say we are. We are what we live
One thing is sure. That woman gifted her daughter with a lesson about honesty she likely won't forget.
Words always matter, but actions count even more. Ask any parent, children keep track of every disconnect between what their parents (and those in authority) say and what they do. Even as adults.
Who we are and what we do carries more weight than our words spoken to them. Every time.
Nobody's perfect
Not even that mom in the big box store, nor any human being. Life can be hard, no doubt about it. After awhile we can feel overwhelmed and hope evaporates.
Christians believe help is available at any time. Jesus used an everyday illustration to explain to his followers they were "grafted" into him by faith, so they could draw on his strength within them.
(Jesus said) "I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing." John 15:5 NIV
God's promises for his people run through all through the Bible.
Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10
I know nothing about that mom in the big box store except what I witnessed that day, but I admire her. Her quiet confidence seemed to illustrate that her actions that day were nothing out of the ordinary for her. She was authentic.
Isn't that what we all long for in the people around us?
Let's resolve to be authentic, to make sure our words and our actions are in harmony. After all, we never know who might be watching or listening in our own family or circle of friends.
Or even some stranger behind us in the checkout line.
Growing, too,
Lenore
