That describes how I feel these days – the Tasmanian Devil ferociously whirling around in my head.
Working in schools, May is always a crazy month. By the time school is out, I am fried. Only 4 more days to go before I can give a little sign of relief. Until then, though, there are all those things I want to do that aren’t getting done that send my head spinning.
One of those things is keeping up with my blog. Just not happening. That’s not to say I don’t have ideas – I have lots of them. Just no time. So. I am keeping this post simple.
I‘ll start with a short story. There are some people who are huggers. I’m a smiler. I tend to smile at people – passing people in the halls at work, passing people on walks, people who work at stores, etc.
Many years ago, when I was working downtown, I would catch the same streetcar with the same driver every day. I would always smile at the driver. He didn’t smile back.
I had no ulterior motive. This was just a person I saw 5 times a week who got me to work on time every morning. A smile seemed a small way to say good morning and thank you. Each morning, I would smile and he would just look at me.
Then, one morning, he smiled back. Just a little smile. It didn’t seem the most genuine of smiles – more like he felt an obligation to smile back, but it was still a smile. In time, though, both his smile and its genuineness grew.
I am pretty punctual (that is a bit of an understatement) and, yet, there was that one morning I was running late. I was hurrying to the bus stop. I started to run when I could hear the streetcar rumbling up. I was still running when it pulled up to the stop. I could see everyone boarding the train. There was no way I was going to make it.
But . . . even though everyone was on board, the streetcar didn’t move. It just sat there . . . until, completely out of breath, I made it to the door and climbed on. He smiled at me. I smiled and said (rather gasped) thank you, and off we went.
I probably took that same streetcar for two or three years. I never knew the driver’s name. He never knew mine. The only thing I knew about him was that he drove a streetcar for a living. All he knew about me was the neighborhoods where I lived and worked. That’s it.
Not much, but still it was a connection.
A smile is such a simple little thing. I think about the Eagle’s song “Lyin’ Eyes” and the opening line “City girls just seem to find out early, How to open doors with just a smile.” In the case of the streetcar, this was quite literally true for me. A smile is so powerful yet takes so little effort. It is amazing, when it is sincere, the positive difference a smile can make.
I’ve probably mentioned way too many times that I read reflections by Mother Teresa each night before I go to bed. I’ll end with a recent quote:
“Choose the way of peace. Let us not use bombs and guns to overcome the world. Peace begins with a smile. Smile five times a day at someone you don’t really want to smile at. Do it for peace. Let us radiate the peace of God. In this way let us set the world alight with His light and extinguish all hatred and love of power. Peace in the world, yes, but first peace on our hearts. Do you have peace in your heart today? If not, why not?”