Competition Nation

At church this morning I heard the couple sitting behind me tell another couple it was their 29^th anniversary today.  I turned to congratulate them.  They always sit behind me and we share the sign of peace but hadn’t spoken otherwise.  This is my opportunity, I thought.   The other couple announced they had celebrated their 52^nd anniversary.  I shared that my neighbor was married 65 years.   Afterwards I got to thinking.   Should we just have let them enjoy the glow of their 29 years without sharing other stories with them?   It’s so natural to do so, but was it appropriate?   When does sharing cross that line into competition?

Of course, it is part of our culture to compete.  We compete about everything.  Mommy wars.  Daddy wars.  Grandma wars.  Couple time.  Work.  Cars. Homes.  Interest rates on our investment or savings accounts.  Mortgage rates on our homes.  Who has the smartest child/grandchild?  Whose child has the most activities and excels at them?   What school does the child go to?   Who had the most vacations? Which ones sounded the most exotic on the retell? Who has the best dog or cat?  Who saw the latest movie?  Who read the latest best selling book?  Who tried the new restaurant?  Who shops at more exclusive stores?  Who is the busiest?  Who is the most productive? Who was married the longest?  Who was widowed the longest?  Who works out the most?  Who is the sickest?  Who has the most ailments?  Who attends church more frequently?   It never ends.  And we have all been guilty of it at times to one degree or another.  When does sharing cross that line?

And there is the untold hurtfulness that this behavior can wrought.   The long-term damage to relationships and the eventual alienation it will bring.  A truly competitive person will pitch that zinger at just the right moment in a conversation.   ‘Well this works for you but for me…[fill in the blank as to topic].    ‘This car is so cute but…’  or  ‘I don’t like [blank] but other people do.”   As a relatively new widow, I have even been the recipient of a few conversational lobs of  ‘we’ve been married [blank] years.’   At random, they had to work it into the conversation although marriage or relationships wasn’t being discussed.  It seems that a competitive nature can’t contain itself.  Even when that particular competitive field has been definitively closed to my participation.   

As the comments start flying across conversational streams, I’m always left wondering – why can’t they just express happiness for you and share in your contentment?  Why say anything else at all?  I think people forget the kindergarten basic that everyone gets a turn to be the center of attention.  And for a competitive soul – the fact that you aren’t competing with them makes no difference.    They are still instinctively determined to ‘win this one.’  I tend to grow leery when I am in conversation and someone uses the word ‘but.’

At the heart of all of this stems some good intentions.  People want a good life.  They want the best for their children.  The need to prove it to others is the crux of the issue.  So, I propose that all of the good things are possible without the national game of competition.  Many people have naturally stepped back from the precipice this competitiveness brings.  It is a free fall into an empty and endless battle to still be seen as ‘the one in the know.’  And when you are sitting at the end of your life-  will any of this make a significant difference to you?  I can assure you that it will not.  Your concern will be if your loved ones will be okay after you’re gone.  Your one disappointment will be that you won’t have more time with your loved ones.  

And of course from a Christian perspective, it truly is pointless- for there is room in heaven for every one.   No competition.   No sign up sheets.  No getting ahead in line for a better view.   No early placement needed.  God has already chosen the perfect place for you.  It’s done.  You just have to accept this gift.   And does anything else really matter?   So you see, competition really is a pointless past time.  Just something to ponder.  Maybe our nation can change.   One conversation at a time.

Sippin’ Cocoa

I heard we might have warmer weather by the end of this week.  It may get into the 40’s.  I’m sitting at home sipping on a mug of cocoa enjoying a relaxing winter morning on a long weekend.  I figured it would be good to get in some cocoa time before the ‘warm-up’.  Wink.

I remember cold Maine winter afternoons coming home after school when I was a little girl.  We would get chilled to the bone after navigating our 300+ foot driveway once we left the school bus.  Brrrr!   Then we would have some chores – feeding and watering whatever critters my parents thought were a good idea that year or bringing in kindling or helping my brother bring in wood for our wood stove.   And once we were done my mom would have made a pan of hot cocoa.  Sometimes there would be little marshmallows.  There were days when she would have made a batch of cookies and we would have those with the cocoa.  It always made us feel so special that our mom made the homemade treats for us. 

This past Christmas my mom came to stay with me.  My first holiday without my husband.  It was a quiet visit.  We stayed at home and watched movies a lot.  And a couple afternoons I surprised my mom with a cup of cocoa.  Topped with whipped cream and a little drizzle of caramel and dark chocolate.   As I brought it into the living room to where she was sitting her eyes lit up.   I could see it made her feel pampered and loved.   And I in turn felt all warmed inside for having made the effort.   Sometimes there’s a lot of love to be found in sippin’ some cocoa together.

A Girl from the Village

Have you ever cozied up in front of the television with a cup of tea to watch a British period drama like ‘Jane Eyre’ or Miss Marple Mysteries?  Inevitably there is a scene where someone has hired cleaning help or needs extra cleaning help.  It’s always ‘we’ll send for a girl from the village.’  

Last year I joked with my mama that I needed to send to the village for a girl to help with the cleaning.   After decades of housework under my belt, it really isn’t my favorite task.  I’d much rather spend the time in the kitchen trying a new recipe or in the closets and cupboards getting everything organized. 

So this week I decided to treat myself and hired a cleaning service.  I worked away in my office one afternoon and listened to the young girls chatter in the other rooms.   Was I ever that young?   Thirty years ago- did I have that much energy?   And it brought back memories.

Because back in the day I was that girl from the village.   I started working as a hotel chambermaid summers in high school and actually did that work full-time a couple years in college to pay for tuition.  I’d layer all my college classes onto Tuesday and Thursday and work the other five days at the hotel.  But before all of that, back my senior year in high school – I was that girl they sent for to help out.  An elderly lady named Julia needed a nice high school girl to stay over on weekends and do light housework and cook for her. 

Julia was in her 80’s and liked things done a certain way.  She had a full-time nurse during the week and needed light coverage on weekends.  So I’d get off the school bus on Friday night at her house and my dad would pick me up late Sunday afternoon.  She would have me dust and do meal preparations.  I would tackle her laundry.  I remember ironing the sheets and towels.   I know that was the first time I saw someone put a plate atop a bowl to seal the contents rather than use plastic wrap.  I still do it today and it works great.  In between all this ‘girl from the village’ time I was able to get my homework done.  After all – there was no television allowed.  She liked listening to music.  And we’d have conversations.  She told me stories about her family.  And so my senior year this pattern continued until the spring when she took ill.  One week I was told the nurse had to stay for the weekend and then Julia was gone. 

In my sophomore year of college when I was living in Providence, Rhode Island, once again an inquiry came in for ‘a girl to help out’ an elderly lady.  So off I went a couple afternoons a week to do housework.  I can’t remember her name but she was very sweet.  But she had a very large collection of porcelain figurines to dust.  Shudder.  I did that in addition to two other part time jobs.  Such energy I had then.

And so I watched those two young women – the modern equivalent of girls from the village.  Life has come full circle.  Now I have the opportunity to provide work for someone just starting out in life.   May they too be blessed on their life journeys.   And as far as what it’s like to have ‘the girls from the village’ in to do your housework?   I think I could get used to this lady of the manor routine.   Is Downton Abbey on yet?