Author: Michele Minehart (Page 154 of 311)

Lessons from the line in Meijer

Because I seem to spend about 7/8 of my free time in the grocery, it’s my primary opportunity to view the world. What I’ve seen is astounding. Most recently a couple completed their checkout and decided they needed an impulse purchase of beef jerky. So the friendly customer service associate waited patiently (with a growing line of patrons) while Mr. Inconsiderate browsed the dried meat rack. After ringing it in, there was a discrepancy between what showed on the credit card pad and the actual total. The CSA seemed pretty confident in what she was doing, proof that this is likely a regular occurrence. However, the customer was unsure and her language and tone indicated as much. She told the cashier, “Are you sure? Because I’m only running this through ONCE.” 

I tried to make my buggy eyes resume their normal shape. I couldn’t believe people actually talk to other humans in this way, with little to no provocation. Somehow when the woman woke that morning and put on a red shirt and khakis, she was also inviting criticism from anyone who happened to run out of milk and saw aisle 5 had the shortest line. 
I can somewhat understand a tiff at the ball field when emotions are running high (though, seriously, IT’S JUST A GAME). Or a flagrant handwave of one finger when you’re cut off in traffic. But during the simple act of paying for your groceries? Even the worst of baggers deserves the most basic of respect (and, after a separate conversation, they’re not “good” baggers because everyone has different preferences. It’s a total crapshoot on their part). 
So yesterday morning when we watched Matt, I should not have been surprised to watch the clip on the grandma bullied by middle schoolers. As Gail the Staff Psychologist said, “what’s wrong with kids is what’s wrong with adults.” We want to blame “kids these days”, but the Meanie at Meijer had two littles watching her. Kids aren’t picking this up from their imagination, it’s the example set forth before them. 
I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face: words matter. With them God created the heavens and earth. With them we can bite and ravish and destroy one another. And all of them are heard by little ears, not just in the same room but also in the same line. 
If you’re appalled by the video, instead of asking, “what’s wrong with these kids?” perhaps instead reflect, asking, “how do I treat others who owe me absolutely nothing?” 

The great outdoors

Growing up, I wasn’t the “outdoorsy” type. I opted instead for a book on the couch (I know…. I didn’t even read outside) or, when forced into manual labor, I took on kitchen and cleaning duties. I once let my sister seal the driveway while I made spaghetti. I brought them out some lemonade.

Even when exposed to majestic surroundings, it translated to commonplace for me. Huge mountains to see 7 states? Yeah. Okay. Waters so clear you can see hundreds of feet below? Well, that is better than pond water. And the gorgeous and colorful fish that inhabit it? Barely worth a comment. After a little bit of snorkeling I’m ready to get back on the boat and read my book. 
Boats and books. That’s my forte. We spent several summer vacations on Lake Cumberland and my 2nd Family would tease that “there’s Shell, at the front of the boat with her nose in a book.” I rarely skied (I found it quite boring back there, but that’s related to my lack of adventurous spirit to go outside of the wake and risk busting my butt). At times I was covered head-to-toe with towels and hats to prevent worsening a burn. In short, the outdoors and I took combative positions. 
Not much has changed. My husband begs me to join him outside on the porch in the evenings while I prefer my cozy chair and a good blog. 

A friend just remarked about her trip to Gatlinburg and the huge amount of commercialism there; her words: It’s like a carnival threw up all over the natural beautiful landscape.
While I lament the fact we’re teaching our kids to be entertained rather than enjoy the beauty of the natural world, I have to admit my own contribution to the situation. I’m an armchair everything – when it comes to sports, life, parenting, theology…. I’d rather sit and contemplate than get up and participate. My preference seems to lie in figuring out the best way to do things and then telling others how to go about it (hellllloooooo management?).

I would rather read a good story, or think about writing a good story, than live a good story. Or so it seems. I’m allowing the rest of the world to entertain me instead of becoming an interesting character in my own. The most interesting thing I can add to conversation is, “I recently read….”

While I stand behind the value of being well-read, it’s time for me to also become well-lived. I need to allow my surroundings to become as inspiring as the characters or concepts I find on the page. The storm rolling in could speak messages as strongly as the 5-point blog post if I listen. Or perhaps even hearing from my kids and they way in which they experience the world, instead of learning how to help them best interpret it, may feed my soul.

Michele goes to the dentist

I have a cavity. It’s not technically diagnosed yet, though I’ve moved from the glory of denial to painful disobedience when it comes to calling the dentist. Thankfully, my cousin’s mom is a dental hygienist and she mentioned that when in the early stages, regular flossing can help reverse a cavity. 

“Early stages” can encompass several months, right? 
So I’ve been a flossing machine. Confession: This is not simply prevention. It’s pain relief. At this point, any time I consume something of a stringy nature, it becomes lodged between those blessed molars. If I can’t get my hands on minty string, throbbing begins within the hour. In my mind I can see my teeth separating the way my sister’s did when the orthodontist put a contraption in the roof of her mouth. 
All this to say, I’ve spent time in front of the bathroom mirror. And, subsequently, cleaning it. 
The upside? The rest of my teeth brag about their top-notch condition. They haven’t received this much attention since January 2011 when it made the list. (Let it be said I have overall good dental hygiene and have, to date, one other cavity. But I don’t come from a family of flossers). 
The cavity captures all of my dental attention and worry. I even wake thinking about it (if it’s throbbing in the middle of the night). I hate the way it makes me feel, both because it hurts and because I feel like a dental failure due to its existence. 
But the rest of my teeth benefit.

They say the squeaky wheel gets the grease. But maybe the squeaky wheel gets the grease out of the garage. If it’s anything like my teeth, the problem child gets first dibs, but everyone reaps rewards. 

It’s exhausting, always trying to “be better.” To fix large holes in your enamel. To meet higher expectations. To offer exceptional customer service. To proofread all emails. To play at the top of your game, all 4 quarters. And sometimes it feels defeating when your best efforts still land you a phone call to a paid professional for a fix. 
Perhaps instead of lamenting our defeat, we should appreciate the improvement for the whole. Allow the holes we’ve become aware of to prompt improved habits. Dealing with sin often seems to me a character flaw improvement program, which misses the point. But instead, it should lead us to holiness throughout our whole life. In my quest to become more generous with my material world, I can allow those efforts to teach me what it means to have a generous spirit, to think of others first and consider them before myself. 
Starting my morning, I can choose to see and feel the large gaping hole. By all means, don’t ignore it (especially if it can be flossed away!). But such occasions aren’t simply defeats. They’re windows, allowing you to look into ways we can live better. Don’t spend all day by the window, but make sure you take a glance each morning. Or, after each meal as you floss.

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