My stare (well, maybe more of a glare) was getting stronger as I passed by a lady in the restaurant. Her rudeness deserved more than my eye contact. Not wanting to look away, so she’d know how curt I thought her remarks were, I stared on. But what I saw in her eyes as she scrutinized me, broke my heart. Nothing. I saw nothing. There was no sadness or remorse, no tender spot for little ones, and absolutely no sign of patience. Only disgust and irritation as I hurried the flock with me out of her way.
“Training in manners is a natural way to encourage appreciation as well as respect. Politeness is a sign of respect. Like the quality of sacrifice, the teaching of polite manners is in danger of fading away” Susan Alexander Yates.
Proper introductions and a basic, “I beg your pardon,” Is an art of the past.
Talking with our mouth full, staring, or elbows all over the table was simply not allowed under the guidance of my mother. Interrupting an adult while they were talking was quickly dealt with. “Please” and “Thank You” were mandatory. My sister and I, were not allowed to say, “Sorry.” Mom considered it rude- a cheap apology. We were required to say, “I am sorry.” “Will you forgive me?”
Speaking loud enough to be heard clearly was also strictly enforced. Being raised in a Southern home, yes mam and no sir came without question. And they better not ever hear us refer to an adult without the proper prefix of Mr. or Mrs.
When Eva was about two years old, I started praying out loud for her on the way to her preschool. It went something like this, “Lord help Eva be kind and caring today. Help her to share with her friends and have fun. Amen.”
I noticed her little eyes narrow and forehead wrinkle. Then she shouted, “MINE!” I could see my prayers for good manners were really paying off.
Our town has a festival at the beginning of each month called, First Friday, where local vendors can set up a booth and sell their goods. It was the first one of the season. Chuck and I had the girls loaded and the booth materials packed. During the set up, we moved everything out into our marked space. I went to grab the table so that I could set my books out. Where was the table?! I sighed a deep sigh realizing I had forgotten the table. Time was already ticking and now I had nothing to set my books on.
Chuck quietly turned and got back in the vehicle and headed for the house.
People were bustling past looking at all the booths that were already set and selling. There we stood. Boxes lay on the ground unopened, along with our tent, chairs, and bags.
I opened Charlottes play pen and deposited her down for some play time, unfolded the chairs so that Eva and I could sit and watch the people pass. I sat eating a box of goldfish when Eva piped up, “This is so embarrassing, Mommy!” “I know it. Here eat these goldfish.” I responded.
It wasn’t long before daddy returned with the table (he was thrilled). By the end of the evening, Charlotte was past the point of no return. Eva was cold and everyone was hungry.
I got the girls loaded and made circles around the square trying to get closer to our designated spot so Chuck could just toss the stuff in the back and we could keep going. We had a good plan until I had to stop in the middle of the road while he quickly tried to load the tent and boxes. Cars had begun to line up behind me. As soon as Chuck opened the back, Charlotte’s massive stroller fell out onto the road.
My tired eyes and ringing ears could still hear him mumble under his breath, “Well, that’s just great.” I could not resist a chuckle at the catastrophe the night had been or so it seemed.
In Chuck’s frustration, not a cross word was spoken. In my exhausted state, I steadily directed Eva to remain quiet while we got situated. Eva, hungry and sleepy, entertained Charlotte so we could get things picked up and loaded.
There was no reason to cast blame. Tired and unworkable circumstances will leave you wanting to point fingers and tell people to get out of your way, kind of like the lady at the restaurant. It will leave you wanting to use a tone that is uncalled for. There are times a firm tone is most certainly in order, but not here.
Reacting rudely will turn a person sour and leave you lonely. No one likes a spiteful demeanor.
I wanted to give the lady in the restaurant a piece of my mind, but I saw my girls and our friend’s little ones beside me. My job was not to lash out at this woman. It was to get the kids away and protect them from her discourtesy, and then pray for her. She needed a touch from the Lord. She needed to be reminded of respectful manners.
When Chuck and I got home we unloaded the vehicle. And put two sleepy girls to bed. He found me in the kitchen and gave me a hug.
He said, “Next time will be better. You will see.” To which I responded, “There’s not going to be a next time.” He laughed.
Working together, with a splash of patience, and a hint of laugher got the job done with a harmonious outcome.
Chuck was right. The next time was better and our polite manners were left in tacked. In fact, when Chuck went to park the car, I readied my table (that I remembered this time).
A lady saw me juggling Charlotte and my tablecloth while Eva was trying to set the table faster than I could keep up. This lady walked over and said, “Oh, let me help you! I can spot the look of desperation a mile away. I had three babies under the age of three and my husband walked out on us. I love to help young mothers whenever I can.”
I stood listening as she continued to tell me her story. She said three years after balancing three babies, house work and working full time a wonderful man walked into her life that loved her and the girls as his own.
Before she left, I could see a far off look appear in her eye as she said, “He is the man my girls call daddy.”
In life’s lemons this lady was not left soured. She saw my children as a blessing, not a hinderance. She chose to mind her manners.
Welcome Home
“Evil communication corrupts good manners.” 1 Corinthians 15:33
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BOOK TWO IN THE HOME SWEET HOME SERIES- COMING SOON!
