The (Justifiable) Loss of Faith

The other day my wife and I were in Ikea looking for a dresser for our bedroom. We both love Ikea for its simplicity and clean lines. Our place isn't very big so the furniture allows us to fill up our space without it appearing cluttered. After finding the perfect dresser, I wandered off alone to find an accessory at my wife's request.

While walking the massive halls of the Ikea warehouse, I was approached by a very pleasant couple from India. The man approached me holding a weird contraption and asked if I knew what it was. I picked it up and we toiled over the tiny silver bucket with wooden handle and surmised that it was some sort of a garlic press. He smiled at my theory and shook his head in agreement. Both he and his wife on cue remarked with a animated, "Oh..." They thanked me and immediately started a very nonchalant conversation with me. They asked if I shopped at Ikea often and what I thought about the furniture. I told them what any man who has bought any item from Ikea is sure to agree with, "The furniture is great but putting it together is a bear!" We all laughed and they continued to ask me questions. I cheerfully answered and was just as curious about their lives as they were mine. I found out that the man, Eric (changed to protect the innocent) was a small business owner and his wife Lisa (also changed) was an India-trained dentist. She was a few months pregnant and they were both eagerly anticipating (and a bit anxious) about their first child's arrival. I told them I had three and received the same response as the discovery of the garlic press.

The conversation was so genuine and so intriguing. I found Melissa and introduced her to my new found friends. I caught her up on what I learned and we made small talk before exchanging phone numbers and promising to meet up over coffee.

As we left Ikea, my wife and I remarked on how refreshing it was to meet new people who were so interesting and so interested in us. This has been a rare occurrence for us and we eagerly anticipated an opportunity to hang out with them. Then the ugly creature doubt crept up my spine and into the conversation. I quickly tamed the beast and even remarked to my wife how cool they seemed. She agreed and I planned on blogging about the encounter and chastising myself for instant cynicism.

Then, twenty-hours later the call from Eric, my Ikea friend came.

Eric: Hello Anthony this is Eric, we met at Ikea yesterday.
Me: Oh Eric, hello I'm so glad you called. How is your wife?
Eric: She's great, I called because we had so much fun talking to you and your wife, Melissa.
Me: So did we. We were just saying how cool it was to meet such interesting people. So what's up?
Eric: Well, I know you said you guys are already working but we have this very exciting opportunity we would like to share with you.
Me: I'm sorry?
Eric: Like I said the other day, my wife and I have our own business and we are looking for business partners who are interested in turning a small investment into a huge return. Anthony, many investors have seen as much as a 150% return on their initial investment. That could mean hundreds of dollars of residual income for you and your family. Does this sound like something you and your wife would be interested in?
Me: Um...yeah I guess?
Eric: Well Anthony, I want to get you involved as soon as possible so you and your wife don't miss this opportunity. When can we meet and talk?
Me: Um...let me talk to my wife and I'll call you back later this week.
Eric: Sounds good Anthony, how about you call me on Thursday or Friday?
Me: Yeah, sure.

So was I justified to believe that strangers don't approach other strangers for the rare possibility of making a new friend? Honestly, I was so bummed that our "chance" meeting was nothing more than a well executed sales canvass that the cynic in me returned. I allowed the beast to roam free in my mind and I instantly was turned off by the whole encounter. My wife and I don't have a lot of close friends and looked forward to the opportunity to make new neutral couple friends.

Ever the optimist I want to believe that my loss of faith in the genuine nature of people is temporary and completely unjustified. I want to believe that Eric and his wife are a fluke and the world is filled with people who want nothing more than to get to know new people. Of course, as most pots that point out the color of neighboring kettles, I have yet to approach an interesting looking person and introduce myself.

My wife mentioned the other day that we could use a new coffee table so maybe we'll try again at finding ourselves some Ikea friends.

Grown Folks are Talking

O that ye would altogether hold your peace! and it should be your wisdom.
Job 13:5

As a child, I was taught the invaluable lesson of being seen but not heard. There was a point, as I grew, that my voice as well as my presence became equally desired. Until that point, my goal was to quietly exist without noise or interruption. I can remember looks of scorn burning through my inner soul on those rare occasions I dared to disobey a rule as old as my family's lineage.

"Hush boy, grown folks are talking," an elder would bark without the slightest bit of eye contact. I hated this rule and the oppressive atmosphere it and others like it created. To sit and listen to a conversation and not be allowed to weigh in was cruel and demeaning. Over the years I racked up piles of pennies, never once solicited for my two cents. Like most rules we despise as children we institute them in our own homes as adults.

My children, as inquisitive as their father, are always lurking around a corner hoping for inclusion in whatever my wife and I happen to be discussing. At times, one of them (especially my oldest Jordan,) will casually place himself into the conversation with the most abstract and vague comment he can. His remark, though not quite on the subject matter, is close enough to let us know he wants to be involved. That same icy glare that is handed to every parent in my family like a dowry usually accompanies the same bark, "Hush boy, grown folks are talking."

The irony of this lesson is that it has taught me as a man that sometimes my words and inclusion are completely unnecessary. I have found that in life there are more times that silence rather than responding is the appropriate response. Words should be used as if they were premium resources that are slowly drifting into scarcity. Unfortunately, many of us speak to quickly and often without thinking treating our words as if they flow from an endless pool. I thought of the lesson that I learned as a child, which was basically to not get involved with things that don't involve me.

Recently, our President (whom I voted for) spoke out of turn and caused irreparable damage to himself and his cause. While discussing his much debated and controversial health care reform plan he commented on a situation involving a friend and a Cambridge police officer. Rather declining to comment, he gave his antagonists a platform to yet again criticize him. Why? Simply because he spoke out of turn. Who is right and who is wrong is not the issue when someone places themselves in the middle of a situation they shouldn't. A reporter who wanted to engage the President and make a story asked the question; she
succeeded. In my opinion, the President should have respectfully declined to respond to the question or simply be silent. Criticism would have surely followed but at least it becomes a guessing game as to where he stands. This is a classic situation of a man who represents all viewing himself as part of a minority. Now it is not my assertion that the President doesn't have a right to speak his mind, but in this situation (like the ones from my childhood) was not for his inclusion. Much like my childhood, the President attempted to offer his opinion on a subject that he admittedly did not have the facts on. In these situations, silence is the only perfect thing to say.

The hardest thing in the world for us to do is mind our business. We cause hours of traffic delays due to rubbernecking and will stand on a street corner because we just have to see what's going on. Many of us will run towards danger while others run away because of morbid curiosity. The windows of America are constantly peered through because it is our nature to get involved and offer our opinion (welcomed or not.) Unfortunately, criticism and ridicule often accompany our opinions (welcomed or not.)

I think the President would benefit from some of my grandmother's greatest
life lessons.

• Speak only when spoken to.
• Don't put things in your mouth.
• Wash your hands.
• Clean up after yourself.
• Don't touch anything that isn't yours.
• Don't ask for anything you can't buy.
• Don't buy anything you can't afford.
• Ask yourself, do you really need this?

Quality Time

Time, a seemingly immeasurable object, is constantly engaged in a rousing game of tug-of-war with me. It seems there is never enough time to do the things that need to be done and far too much time to do nothing. Splitting my time, not equally but evenly between God, my family, work, and myself is an extremely daunting task. My life is often lived based on the time. The question, “Is there enough time?” seems to be answered more often in the negative than the carefree. Enough time for what?

There’s a long-standing joke in my family about Sunday. We all agree that Sunday at 4:00p.m. is the official end of the weekend. What happens after four o’clock that will not cause us to be tired on Monday morning? Nothing. So starting on Saturday morning (a day we are very careless with our time) we watch the clock dreading Sunday at 4:oop.m. As ridiculous as the concept maybe it often has a profound effect on how we spend our time and increases our desire to not waste time. The irony of course, is that weekends were built for just that sort of thing. What could be more fun that to spend 48hrs doing absolutely nothing? Absolutely nothing.

This past weekend my wife and I found ourselves in the DINK category and will remain Double Income No Kids for the entire summer. Trips to the grocery store will be less financially and emotionally draining and no one will knock on the door at 6:00a.m. demanding breakfast. There will be no homework to work on and no reminders to take out the trash. (I’m acutely aware that my kid’s chores became my chores on their vacation.) Don’t get me wrong, my wife and I love our children dearly but the very idea of not picking anyone up from school actually excites me.

Our first weekend alone, we spent a romantic evening in a nice hotel in San Diego near Mission Bay. Our room was beautiful, it overlooked the water and we even splurged with room service. We enjoyed luxuries that we wouldn’t dare had we been with the kids. We sat in the hot tub; missing, was my wife constantly doing a “where are the kids” check by the pool. We packed our overnight bags without having to inspect the clothing choices of all travelers. We dined in a fine restaurant without a suspicious, devout carnivore inspecting her plate for hidden vegetables. We had adult conversations without the electronic hum of portable game devices. Yes, it was absolute bliss. My wife and I reconnected in way that we haven’t since… well the last time the kids went away.

The quality of the time we spend together makes it so much more enjoyable dealing with the inevitable ups and downs of life. The children are our pride and joy but there introductions and stumbles through life can be very time consuming. Time should be a luxury that we try to never take for granted. Every moment literally counts and can never be restored or re-done. For that reason, every second God has blessed me to breathe, rhyme and reason is a gift.