I got my first job at age 17, working at a Barnes & Noble store. The first thing the manager interviewing me said was, "Well, Bethany I would say you look twelve. But that would be an insult, so. . ."
Umm. Okay?
But I got the job. And the experiences I loved the most there involved working in the children's department: holding storytime, managing field trips, even dressing up as a storybook character. I remember the double-takes from the class of 6th graders as I tried to muscle my way through the crowded aisles to locate a book for a customer. Lots of them were taller than I was and the name tag slung around my neck really threw them for a loop. Then there was the time I was sitting on the floor, rearranging a display when an elderly woman approached me and asked, "Do you work here, or are you one of the children?" I guess I could have answered, "Both!"
Yesterday I turned 32 years old. Definitely no longer "one of the children". And I started thinking about how many birthdays I've celebrated, wondering if I've changed that much with each of them. A birthday is like your own personal New Year - a fresh start on life. I got to thinking, what would be my goals for this coming year? What would characterize my mid-life? And I realized, I've spent an awful lot of time focusing on myself. That's not necessarily a bad thing. Developing my personal talents and learning to know myself will of necessity be a life-long process. But in all honesty, it's bound to happen. I don't feel the need to devote much effort to the endeavor. Instead, I think I'd like to broaden my horizons a bit this year. I'm doing just fine. I've gotten pretty comfortable in my own skin. I feel the need to turn my focus outward and see how those around me are faring. I don't have to look far to see that not everyone enjoys the same peace of mind that I do. There's obvious needs that stare me in the face everyday: the loneliness and grieving of the recently widowed; the insecure and anxious turmoil of the adolescent; the weary and the disheartened who labor under the relentless burden of responsibility. Surely, in my 32 years of experience I must have some words of wisdom and encouragement for them, some strength they can draw on. At the very least I have two ears to lend in listening to their plight.
So I think that's what I'd like to use my 32nd year of life for - developing compassion.
Now that I write it out, it actually seems more daunting. What started out as some casual, birthday musings now sounds like an enormously challenging commitment! It may be easier to start out in more familiar surroundings, honing my empathetic skills with family members that may be more patient with me and forgiving of my clumsiness during the learning process. I can reach back into my past and remember what it was like to be 10 years old - full of ambitions but sometimes lacking the courage or diligence to realize those dreams. I can sympathize with the 5 year-old middle child who insists on being big enough for important things but struggles to find acceptance from his older siblings. And when a toddler is throwing a massive tantrum over something which my 32 year-old self sees as trivial, maybe I can hold my tongue and offer a hug instead of wasting words of reason.
Yeah, that sounds manageable.
My birthday was full of fun. I was pleasantly surprised again and again by the thoughtfulness of friends and family who each gave me a part of themselves that special day. I'd like to spend my 32nd year learning to give a little bit back.
Umm. Okay?
But I got the job. And the experiences I loved the most there involved working in the children's department: holding storytime, managing field trips, even dressing up as a storybook character. I remember the double-takes from the class of 6th graders as I tried to muscle my way through the crowded aisles to locate a book for a customer. Lots of them were taller than I was and the name tag slung around my neck really threw them for a loop. Then there was the time I was sitting on the floor, rearranging a display when an elderly woman approached me and asked, "Do you work here, or are you one of the children?" I guess I could have answered, "Both!"
Yesterday I turned 32 years old. Definitely no longer "one of the children". And I started thinking about how many birthdays I've celebrated, wondering if I've changed that much with each of them. A birthday is like your own personal New Year - a fresh start on life. I got to thinking, what would be my goals for this coming year? What would characterize my mid-life? And I realized, I've spent an awful lot of time focusing on myself. That's not necessarily a bad thing. Developing my personal talents and learning to know myself will of necessity be a life-long process. But in all honesty, it's bound to happen. I don't feel the need to devote much effort to the endeavor. Instead, I think I'd like to broaden my horizons a bit this year. I'm doing just fine. I've gotten pretty comfortable in my own skin. I feel the need to turn my focus outward and see how those around me are faring. I don't have to look far to see that not everyone enjoys the same peace of mind that I do. There's obvious needs that stare me in the face everyday: the loneliness and grieving of the recently widowed; the insecure and anxious turmoil of the adolescent; the weary and the disheartened who labor under the relentless burden of responsibility. Surely, in my 32 years of experience I must have some words of wisdom and encouragement for them, some strength they can draw on. At the very least I have two ears to lend in listening to their plight.
So I think that's what I'd like to use my 32nd year of life for - developing compassion.
Now that I write it out, it actually seems more daunting. What started out as some casual, birthday musings now sounds like an enormously challenging commitment! It may be easier to start out in more familiar surroundings, honing my empathetic skills with family members that may be more patient with me and forgiving of my clumsiness during the learning process. I can reach back into my past and remember what it was like to be 10 years old - full of ambitions but sometimes lacking the courage or diligence to realize those dreams. I can sympathize with the 5 year-old middle child who insists on being big enough for important things but struggles to find acceptance from his older siblings. And when a toddler is throwing a massive tantrum over something which my 32 year-old self sees as trivial, maybe I can hold my tongue and offer a hug instead of wasting words of reason.
Yeah, that sounds manageable.
My birthday was full of fun. I was pleasantly surprised again and again by the thoughtfulness of friends and family who each gave me a part of themselves that special day. I'd like to spend my 32nd year learning to give a little bit back.
Breathtaking photos. I think it's going to be a great year.
ReplyDeleteThank you. And I agree!
ReplyDelete