In this newborn chapter, Philip and I are making it a point to have one-on-one dates with the kids to help them feel connected to us. Last weekend was Jane’s turn to have some special time with me. After stopping at the book store to pick out a new read-aloud, we took a break for lunch at Chipotle.
While Jane and I were enjoying our lunch, several patrons came in and out. My back was to the entrance, so I was a bit startled when an elderly gentleman used the back of my seat to steady himself. Jane watched him make his way toward the utensils, napkins, and condiments. It’s always an adventure being out in public with a kindergartener because you never know what will come out of their mouths! It’s also an adventure because you never know what they’ll help you to observe that you might have otherwise ignored.
“Mama, why is he bent over like that?”
The man’s back was bent at what looked to be a painful position. It took him great effort to walk across the restaurant as he steadied himself, holding the chair backs at each table.
“Some people’s backs get weak as they get older, so they start to bend over like that, but some people are born with backs that are already bent that way.”
While we munched on our special lunch and talked about all of Jane’s latest kindergarten (mis)adventures, the gentleman must have made half a dozen painstaking trips across the restaurant, steadying himself on my chair each time he passed. One trip for napkins to wipe down the booth table. Another trip for utensils. Another trip for straws. When he was done, his booth had what Miss Manners Emily Post would call two picture-perfect place settings across from each other.
Fork on the left.
Napkin placed underneath the fork.
Knife and spoon on the right.
Knife blade facing inward.
Straws in their paper parallel to where the burritos would go. Almost as if they were dessert forks.
In a booth. In a Chipotle.
It took him visible effort and pain to go to this extra trouble, but he kept a smile on his face as he worked. He moved slowly but with a determined pace. At last, he was satisfied with his work. He took a seat to wait for his lunch companion to join him at his beautifully appointed booth.
Since my back had been to the entrance when he walked in, I wasn’t sure who he was with. A few minutes later, a woman who appeared to be in her forties joined him at the booth with their meals. “That must be his daughter,” I thought. She set the food out for the two of them, and didn’t seem to notice the place settings that he had gone to so much trouble to set. Instead of being internally irked for him, I was kind of thrilled. It meant that this sort of thing was routine for him. His loved ones had come to expect these not-so-little efforts of love on their behalf.
It instantly made me think of an article that had popped up on my Facebook newsfeed earlier in the week. It was called, “Outdated Rules for the 1950’s Housewife.”
I had to agree with the author that many of the guidelines for a “good wife” were more than a tad ridiculous. “Don’t complain if he’s late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.” Uh, say what? Snopes and a few other places have claimed that this 1950’s article is actually a hoax. Regardless of whether it is a hoax or not, I hope we can all agree that a lot of the content reflected the misogyny of the era, but there’s a lot of good advice sandwiched in with the bad.
Many of the “guidelines” boil down to trying to make the home a peaceful haven for your spouse and the entire family.
- Keep homecomings pleasant with fewer distractions
- Freshen up before you’ll see each other (Remember when you were dating?)
- Try to have a warm meal ready for everyone to enjoy
- Be cheerful whenever possible to lift each other up
- Clear the clutter to make the home more welcoming
- Don’t greet each other with complaints or problems
Sitting at Chipotle last Saturday, I watched that elderly gentleman from that so-called misogynistic era work to set a beautiful booth when most would say it didn’t matter. He didn’t seem to think there was anything extraordinary in what he was doing. He did what he did because he seemed to think that that’s what you do when you eat a meal with someone you love. To him, it seemed to be a pleasure to work in this way and serve his daughter. I wonder if he was a widower and was living with his daughter. Ironically, the guy from the misogynistic era was working his tail off to serve his daughter who didn’t even seem to notice! Yet, he didn’t seem upset by it. It was visibly a pleasure for him to still be able to love and serve someone in this way.
And isn’t that what love does? Isn’t that what love looks like? All of those little, seemingly insignificant things that add up to an unfathomable amount of love on your behalf?
The full gas tank. A changed diaper. “You’re doing great!” Flowers just because. The last piece of cake. “You’re enough.” A head scratch. Wrestling the kids. “I’ll feed the baby. You sleep.” A surprise day off from work. Takeout from a favorite restaurant.
How many of those things have I stopped noticing? What grand gestures of love am I missing because I’ve come to expect them? Have my loved ones come to expect these things from me, or have they stopped expecting them because they don’t happen anymore?
Love is a beautifully set booth at Chipotle. Just because. That’s what love does–even if no one notices but the mother and kindergartener across the room.
