The eyeball test isn’t so different than playing Russian roulette, sometimes you win and sometimes you lose when it comes to guessing what’s inside book covers.
I didn’t know I’d judged her, but that’s exactly what I’d done, in a good way, finally. She’s probably in her mid-seventies, tall, medium length, tired auburn hair, done in a bun that she’s probably been sportin’ since the 60’s, dark brown glasses to match.She’s the only person in the gym with jeans on, and a street blouse for comfort. She looks like someone from church. The elderly gal is hard to miss, and not just for being tall; she struggles to walk and has two canes to keep her from losing the battle with gravity.
My heart and respect went out to her for fighting through her flesh and not giving in. I felt like I knew her without having ever having talked to her in the year or so that I’d been seeing her, but that all changed a few weeks ago.
The handicapped woman called from behind me, “How much longer are you going to be?” in the middle of my set, about half way through my reps, and with a snide snap in her voice.
I’ve been in gyms my entire life and savvy gym etiquette pretty well, I guess she doesn’t. I didn’t stop, I politely answered, “About five more minutes.”
The handicapped gal made as loud a “Huff”! as she could muster to let me and anyone within earshot know how put off she was that the world didn’t find her at the center of it.
* * * * *
I could feel the short elderly lady behind me in the express lane at the grocery store the day before Mother’s Day. I could sense her impatience and her basket nipping at my heels. I struggled to be polite.
I hate it when the express line moves slower than the regular ones, makes me feel like a fool, and it only gets worse when you’re getting bumped and crowded.
My patience meter had just about expired by the time the checkout gal grabbed and scanned the roses and card. “Oh! What beautiful flowers!” the woman fast on my heels managed. It sounded like she was chewing on her tongue. She’d had a stroke.
Although it was difficult to understand her, she asked about my children, even told me I looked too young to have girls that age, all the while her eyes sparkled with love and life.
I’m almost always wrong when it comes to judging book covers.
I think how we see others has a lot to do with how we see ourselves; too often we see ourselves as fine classic literature bound in fine leather and a lot of other folks as paperbacks.
You can tear the front and back book covers off, but that doesn’t change the Words inside… and when our time is done here that’s exactly what happens to all of us.
It’s only God in us that is beautiful… the book covers only fool the fools.