On the plane from Baltimore to Denver I sat next to a nice young woman who is a student at the University of California in Davis, but was in Maryland for a friend’s wedding. She was telling me about what a great time she had even though she had to miss classes and despite all the work that went into making the wedding great. She was quite expressive and talked with her hands so I noticed that she was wearing a sort of light green nail polish. I asked if she been in the wedding and if that was the color of the bridesmaids dresses, and her response is what inspired this blog. She said, “nope, I wasn’t though I did a whole lot to make the wedding happen (including she would later point out cleaning a barn which would hold the reception), but my dress sure was this color and thank you so much for noticing.” It struck me how often we may notice things, but never mention them, or on the other hand how often we miss things that others are really hoping we will notice. Green nail polish is a small detail, but often it’s the small details that we put the most thought into and which we really hope will be appreciated. It’s a new hair cut, new shoes, a new whatever, or the little things we do like folding laundry, doing the dishes, or any of those things we don’t really do for the recognition, but which we sure hope someone notices. The thing is, the little things, the nice touches (like matching nail polish) or the chores done without prompting, those things really say a lot about a person and they deserve to be noticed. When we notice we should say something; it matters and it feels good.

For two weeks now I have been riding the DC Metro across the city from Cheverly, MD to Tenley Town, followed by a nice mile or so walk to the American University/Wesley Theological Seminary campus. The trip requires just one transfer about half way through from the orange line to the red line at Metro Center. It takes about an hour from point to point and I try to leave time each morning to stop and grab some breakfast at Tenley Town. On this my last day of classes I boarded the train at about 7:15am and was on my way just the same as every other day with one exception; the difference today was that I was for some reason a bit sleepy still (you can begin to guess where this is going). I am not a morning person, but have had no problem being up at 6am every day until today. I sat down and began to read “The Express” (which is a mini version of the Washington Post handed out as you get on the Metro), but the news today was apparently not compelling enough to pull me out of my sleepy state and I began to doze in and out as we came to each stop. At some point the out had no in until I found myself two stops past my transfer station. At this point I could have panicked or become frustrated. I had options, but who wants to wake up in a place where they did not intend to go. I could have crossed over to the other platform and taken the train back two stops to my transfer, but that would have taken twenty plus minutes that I didn’t really want to use for that. The thing in my favor is that I have spent enough time walking around DC that I knew I could walk to a red line station and pick up my journey there. Instead of feeling like this was a tragedy I moved quickly from the feeling of “where am I and how do I get back to where I need to be,” to thoughts of what seemed to me an opportunity to perhaps discover something new, a new bakery or a new café to grab breakfast, or something else altogether unexpected and fascinating. That seemed like the only choice I had to make in order to redeem my morning thus far.

With this in mind I headed out into the light of a gorgeous DC morning and proceeded north towards my new transfer station. As it turned out the “Marvelous Market: bakery and café” was about half way between the two stations and I found a delightful selection of pastries; meaning that I would not have to stop at Tenley Town and really wouldn’t loose much if any time at all. The pastry alas ended up being good, not “marvelous,” but still all of this could have ruined my morning or been quite frustrating if I had let it. Instead I chose to turn it into an opportunity to experience something new within the context of an unexpected change in my routine. It’s actually a great and simple lesson in making lemonade out of lemons. Sometimes we shut down and when things happen outside of our norm we don’t know how to deal with them. When we end up past where we were intending to go or pushed beyond where we thought we needed to be, we can easily get frustrated or angry. We have to decide whether to feel lost in our new reality or excited about the new possibilities. The story would be better if the pastry was the best I ever had (marvelous), but maybe the point is better taken that even a merely good pastry is better than letting your morning be ruined. It’s so easy for us to let the little things get in the way of what could be. You never know when falling asleep on the train will be a good way to start you day.

Riding on the metro in Washington DC there seems to be an unwritten rule that you don’t really talk to people unless you already know them. There are plenty of exceptions, but for the most part you sit or stand in sometimes very close proximity and you do your own thing. You listen to your headphones, you make your phone calls (which brings personal into public in a way people don’t seem to notice, but that is another blog perhaps), you read your newspaper, you take a nap, you do whatever you do, but no matter what, you isolate because that’s just what everyone does. It’s often the same in other cities too and plenty of other situations where we seem to maintain our childhood instruction not to talk to strangers. The thing is, there is generally no good reason for it and perhaps if we actually did talk to each other the world would be a friendlier and more connected place. People might feel less isolated and less alone. In the past week and a half I admit to at least partially maintaining the status quo (though in my defense, it’s hard to engage with people who have gotten really good at not looking at anyone), but on a few occasions I have broken that rule and ended up having some pretty deep conversations. One woman next to me was clearly having a very bad day and needed to talk to someone and all it took was a, “how was your day?” to open the door for her to release some burdens that were weighing on her. I heard stories about job struggles and car struggles, talked to a young person trying to decided what to do with their life, one who loved their life and as an added bonus, I even taught a woman how to pronounce Puyallup (if you don’t know just ask). I can isolate with the best of them, but I guess the point is that sometimes we have to take that risk and break the unwritten rules. You never know what kind of impact you might have or what gifts you might receive. You might make a friend, but even if you don’t you will have created a human connection in an often all too disconnected world and there is something to be said for that. Sometimes we need to question the rules and ultimately make our own.

You know you have great parents when you are in your thirties and they still keep your paper clippings up on their fridge (never mind that it is over a year old). Even if it’s something they have always done and you are used to it, it means something. Knowing you are loved and supported is a feeling every person should have and the more obvious those expressions the better. How often do we tell our friends and family that we are proud of them? We probably say, ” I love you” or we show that do in various ways, but the boost to self, even for a confident person, when someone they care about says, “I’m proud of you,” is pretty special. When kids are little, we put their art on the fridge and no matter what it looks like it’s the most beautiful thing ever and we let them know that. It’s not that we should be disingenuously offering praise all the time, but when we have the chance, we shouldn’t be afraid to let people know we care and we appreciate what they do. Most of us are pretty good at letting people know what we don’t appreciate, but it is somehow harder to let them know the things we do. We all could be better at it, but that starts with being intentional about how we respond and how we offer ourselves to those we care about. Those clippings on our parent’s fridge are a pretty great reminder and everyone (this is certainly not contingent on press clippings) deserves to feel appreciated.