Choosing to say, “hi.” Lessons from the library.
My son, Rhett is in a season where he LOVES books-loves them so much that he throws books at me as a way of asking me to read to him. Trust me, I love reading him books and I pray that he continues to grow to love reading throughout his life, however, he is also in a season where we read the same book(s) over and over, and over and over, and you get the picture. His current favorites are, “The Three Little Pigs,” Clifford: Where is the Big Red Doggie?,” “How do you take a bath?,” and any book that has flaps to open in them. Needless to say I truly feel like I have several of our books at home memorized.
So as any mom would do, I decided it was time to brave the cold, get out of the house, and go to the library. This isn’t a new feat for us. In fact, we had been going to the library at least 2-3 times/month up until the chill of winter arrived a couple weeks ago. Other than going at a different time of day than we normally do, it was a pretty typical trip to the library-so I thought.
We arrived at the library, I set the car seat down, got Rhett out to play and I went just 7 feet away and began to pick out books to replenish our exhausted at-home library. Three minutes in, a few moms and their kids join the scene. Nothing I haven’t experienced before, but suddenly my introverted, shy and ill-confident part of myself took over. I felt my mind say, “you could say hi,” “you could introduce yourself,” etc., but instead I walked back over to my son (whom now was curious about the other kids playing there too) and played with him/tried to keep him from interfering with the others there.
I quickly gathered that the two other moms knew each other so they were engaged in conversation, and again while I know I could have said something, I didn’t…and then this happened—that introverted, shy-natured, “oh man, I’m alone feeling” hit—and it hit hard.
Within the next 2 minutes I scooped up Rhett, whom in fact was very sad about leaving the library, wrangled him into his car seat, checked out our books, and loaded up in the van. As soon as I hit the drivers seat, my whole body shook. I began hyperventilating and shed some tears. I sat there for a moment before putting the car into gear and thought, “what happened?" Why am I feeling this way? What did I do? Why didn’t anyone want to talk to me?”
I can’t say that in those hours, or even in the days following that encounter, did I exactly figure out why I felt that way. What I can tell you, is what was running through my mind during and following the encounter:
I don’t have friends
No one knows me
Am I old? These moms seem younger than me…
Does no one want to talk to me?
I’ve lived here for 10 years but have I actually?
Why did I feel paralyzed to say something?
Did I appear closed off?
But then the other part of me, outside myself, thought:
Why didn’t they want to say something to me?
How come my son wasn’t even acknowledged when he crawled over to them?
Do they know me but are afraid to say something too?
Have they ever felt this way?
As all these thoughts have swirled around in my head the past few days, I can’t say I “figured it out.” In fact I don’t think I will ever fully “figure it out.” I can’t say I hopped back in my car the next day, went back to the library and tried again, but I can say that this current situation did influence what I started thinking about next.
I think in the end, I know it’s not healthy for me (or for you) to focus on the others involved in this situation. I think what I need, what I encourage you to see from this situation, is that there are some lessons from this situation, as well as things I’m going to do differently next time. While also knowing that the other two moms in this situation more than likely have felt the same way as I have at some point.
From this situation, I first think I can reap that in those moments, that one, I need to fiercely ask God to captivate my mind (2 Corinthians 10:5). Secondly, I need to ask for and act upon confidence to simply say, “hi.” In fact I think most people are actually afraid to say, “hi.” Thirdly, be okay with people not engaging in the conversation further after “hi” is said because maybe they don’t want to…and that’s OKAY. Maybe they just aren’t my people, or they have something they need to get to next.
So as I sit down once again, as we speak, to read “The Three Little Pigs,” for the 4th time this morning, I pray that all of us in situations like ones at the library-whether you were the character of me, or the character of the other moms in this situation— that each of us would strive to practice (with God captivating our minds) simply choosing to say, “hi.”
