~ Day 16 ~
We all know those kinds.
The ones we greet with polite smiles while our minds reel,
Not you again.
We wish we wouldn’t react this way, but these types are, well, beyond annoying.
We grow up, learn a few manners, and cover our irritation with veiled smiles and rapid excuses.
Right now isn’t a good time. Maybe later?
Oh, I have to run. So sorry.
We want to be kind, we want to be neighborly, but that one… that one… drives us crazy.
We’ve all had one of those. Maybe, we have been one of those.
This is a story about one of those. The ones we judge by past history or history that has been passed by word of mouth (nah, not gossip). No one is above this feeling. It’s really how we react… how we change our perspective… that changes our heart. Sometimes, one of those people has a heart we could learn something from.
Thank you, Joan, for sharing your story and your perspective. (You can find Joan’s blog here).
Ralph Snider’s loud, overbearing manner irritated some people. He monopolized conversations, and exaggerated his slow Texas twang, leaving some to think of him as a backwoods country bumpkin.
Yes—he was loud, talked (a lot), and had a lazy drawl. However, he was well-educated and intelligent. He served as a substitute teacher on several occasions when I was in Junior High. He knew a good deal about local history and was an interesting conversationalist.
He grew up in a time when neighbors visited neighbors unannounced, but nevertheless were welcomed.
Times changed. Lives got busier. People stopped visiting without an invitation. Our small town grew. More people moved to the area, and Mr. Snider’s pop-in visits were often unwelcomed. Many voiced their frustrations over his continuing to drop by unannounced.
I finished school, married, and entered the work force. I learned to avoid him—especially when in a hurry. I don’t have time for this. Plus, he might begin making unexpected visits to our house. That’s the last thing we need after a long day at work.
One day, a friend told me a story about him—one much different from ones the others often relayed. A local church held a luncheon and invited members of the community. Mr. Snider attended. Of course, he would never pass up an opportunity to visit and talk with others.
Danny, a middle-aged mentally challenged man, was present. He came from a poor family that didn’t have a good reputation. Some of his relatives had served time in jail for vandalism and theft. Most people knew Danny was harmless, but many avoided him.
Mr. Snider had already taken a seat when Danny went through the serving line. After receiving his meal, Danny turned to find a table. He bumped against something and spilled the entire plate of food on the floor. Upset and embarrassed, he began to cry.
Without hesitation, Mr. Snider jumped up, went over to Danny, and cleaned the food from the floor. He helped Danny find a table, and brought him a fresh meal.
Mr. Snider didn’t wait for a janitor to clean up the mess. He didn’t turn a blind eye and ignore the situation. He didn’t hesitate to leave his own plate of hot food, which was cold by the time he returned to his chair. He performed a simple act of kindness from the goodness of his heart.
I think we could all learn something from Mr. Snider.
We are given these human suitcases to carry us around on this earth. Some of our suitcases may not be most appealing at first, or second, glance. It’s when we unzip the weathered cases that we find what’s really inside. The inside may just be the treasure we’ve been avoiding.
God must smile at our surprise.
Hebrews 4:12-13
For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.
