Cashiers Beware, We Talk to Everybody.

Yeah, we talk to everybody. I realized this was a cultural thing when I moved up North. On one of my first shopping trips the poor cashier looked lost when I started chatting with her about our move and my kids. It took a bit for me to realize it wasn't just her that didn't have much to say, none of the cashiers seemed to want to share what was going on in their lives in that 10 minutes we crossed paths.
All that was for those of you who might not understand when I tell you Mike and I had a life-changing talk with one of the bellhops at our hotel this weekend.
He was a nice young man. He said he was a student. I asked where. He said Savannah State. I asked what his major was. He said Chemistry. Then, he added, "But I don't really know what to do with that degree." Well, I jumped all over that. Told him about a friend of ours who works in the Chemical industry and how they couldn't find any young Chemical engineers. Well, by now we were up in the room and Mike told our young bellhop how to find more information on the field. Charles, yes, we were on first name basis at this point, told us how appreciative he was and then he said, "When I graduated and told my uncle I was going into Chemistry he told me no one in our family was that smart and I shouldn't do it."
Stunned, we proceeded to tell him we were both first generation college grads in our families and he was a smart, personable young man who most definitely could prove his uncle wrong. We watched the relief in Charles' eyes and the straightening of his shoulders as we continued to talk. I don't think life-changing is too strong of a description.
See, that's why we talk to everybody.

It's Dark in the Tunnel

I've often said it's hard enough when the kids go away to school, that I can't imagine how hard it would be if they weren't happy once they got there.
Now I can imagine it.
Lizzy is having a tough time and she just can't seem to catch a break. The one break she did get, turned out to be not so good.
Mike was in Oregon last week and their high-rail truck (a pickup truck with attachments to allow it to ride on railroad tracks) died in the middle of a tunnel and then derailed. Luckily, the line is abandoned, so no oncoming trains. But he says it was dark - very dark. They had to walk a long way and then ended up pushing the truck out of the tunnel.
When you're in a tunnel you only have one choice - keep walking until you're out of it.
Lizzy keeps walking. But the lights she sees in the distance, keep turning out to not be real light. It's just another branch of the tunnel. And she keeps walking. She knows she'll get out one day and this will just be an unhappy time in her past. But it's so dark.
And I'm so far away. I guess that's good because everything in me says, get a flashlight and go get her. But this is her faith journey, not mine.
You know that footprints poem? Well, if I go rushing in to carry her she'll never understand what it is to be carried by God.
All I know is I can't imagine her being so far away without her faith.
And I can't imagine me being here without mine.