you build me up, buttercup.
Today I was in an elevator.
*hold for applause*
And there was a man in the elevator too.
*the man gets no applause because this is not his blog*
He had bright orange hair and we immediately had a connection; the kind that can only be shared by two people whose hair color comes out of a bottle.
But this man stood out because he started talking with me. And see that preposition? With. Not at. I think that it is easy to talk at people. To just go down the laundry list of things to say, making it so that it really doesn’t matter who it is that you are talking to, the other person has so little to do with the shape of the conversation.
But this orange haired man, he was looking at me and asking me if I was going to an audition, among other things. He was smiling kindly and included the maid in that smile as soon as she stepped into the elevator with us.
*you may applaud the maid because she seemed to have a hard day today and could use a few “bravos!” in her life*
She looked tired and worn down. She had about a billion toilet paper rolls on her cart and started telling us that she had many bathrooms to fill with them, once the orange haired man asked her how she was doing. But then he did something else: he encouraged her. He asked her what time she gets off work, and once she told him, reminded her that she had just two more hours to go in a way that told her he knew she could do it.
And I believed him that he believed in her, as strange as that sounds.
Or maybe as unimportant as that sounds. A stranger encouraging a maid that she was almost done work–maybe that sounds dismissable. But I think for the maid it was not and isn’t it true that if you want to encourage the world, then you start with the person standing right next to you?
The maid juggling all that toilet paper.
Or the quiet girl standing in the elevator with you, orange backpack heavy on her back and maybe looking a tiny bit nervous.
Maybe you tell her right before she steps off on the seventh floor that you think she’s going to get the job.
And suddenly there are two people in that elevator who are believed in.
And I think words are weighty. I don’t think I always live like I think this, but I’d like to. I think I understand the weight and power of words when writing a song a little better. Because, see, songs–in comparison to life–have so few words. So each one has to be measured and weighed and compared and contrasted and stripped down to its raw meaning and then decided upon because yes, that’s exactly what I want to say.
And maybe life should be more like that, too.
What kind of song am I singing?
I’d like it to be a good one. Not good as in always pretty or happy or anything so boring as always the same thing, necessarily; but good. Building up this world that gets torn down, person by person, until it’s very hard to remember what it was like to not get that metallic taste of panic on your tongue as soon as anyone starts to whisper. Because God forbid a secret is ever actually a lovely thing to discover.
Remember that?
When secrets could be good and beautiful; a garden enclosed that was fairer than the walls all around it had pretended it to be.
That was nice.
And not over, though I wasn’t always so sure it wasn’t.
But yes, the orange haired man reminded me of Jesus some, I think. At least in the way that he saw people as unique and interesting and worth discovering and encouraging.
And even believing in.
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Thoughts and Feelings
as elevator, God, Jesus, laundry list, maid, man, orange, orange backpack, person, quiet girl, sevent, toilet paper rolls
I think that at times, it can be so cool to be in a place…like an elevator…with a guy that you aren’t sure is a Christian or not, that notices something like that. We are surrounded by negativity and doubt, but then I think with God, it is so much easier to remember the simple things, like how much he loves us. He.died.for.us.
Back to the man in the elevator…he noticed the cleaning lady. I have to tell you, the housekeepers at the hospital are some of my favorite people. Some of the doctors and nurses can be so negative and judgmental…not saying that everyone else is not, but the housekeeping staff seems to be a bit more accepting of character flaws…or my weird sense of humor.
Kudos to you for noticing such an event!
Yes, Rachel–I love people who notice and care about and consider all people to be people. I remember when I worked at brew ha ha there was such a difference between the customers who would look me in the eyes and ask me how I’m doing and the ones who would just rattle off an order like I’m a machine and probably only exist for them to get coffee. It was a fun little game I had to try to make those people make eye contact with me, actually!
And I’m sure you have some very special people working with you at the hospital–and god bless the cleaning ladies who get your sense of humor
“And I think words are weighty. I don’t think I always live like I think this, but I’d like to. I think I understand the weight and power of words when writing a song a little better.”
I agree. Words are weighty…they have power…I think most people rarely consider that. I think that too often, at the very least, we speak things out into the universe without considering where they will fall (or on who they’ll fall), or what will happen when they hit…or else we intend to target someone with our words. In any case, there is often more of that going on than the careful consideration of well-chosen words that build up, encourage, and bring life to those around us. I would like to be one who increasingly engages more in the latter than the former…a conscientious user of words that build up, encourage, and bring life to those around me. I am not always this person, but she’s who I want to be.
Excellent post, Jess.
someone
It’s true–it’s so easy to just talk and so much harder to take back whatever it is you said. I know there are words that have been spoken to me that I will never forget–both in good ways and in bad ways. I want to remember the kind of power we weild (weild? Could that be right?? It looks so strange!) with what we say too.
Wield
Oops, I forgot to delete “someone”!
I kinda like the cryptic way in which you ended that comment, Kathie!!
Yes, I was going for cryptic…just giving you something to think about…haha!!
haha I was thinking, “If you’re trying to make this anonymous, Kathie, you shouldn’t have your name up there at the top of the post.”
Haha…that would be silly of me! But, no, I changed a sentence, which pushed that word down where I couldn’t see it, then I forgot to delete it.
i love the elevator story..i love when things like that happen..it is so encouraging and such a reminder that there are good people out there…even in the most random places:)
Yes, so true. There really are kind people all over this world and running into one can make such a difference:)
You know what would be kind of funny? You write this post about this man who is unexpectedly kind and build him up as a very nice person, and then what if you saw him again and he was stealing a tip from a waitress or something like that.
Okay, funny in a sad kind of way, but still funny.
Jase, that would be really sad…but it would be in keeping with the lyrics that comprise the title of this blog post! Don’t the lyrics include “tearing/letting you down” somewhere in there, too?!
oh wait. did I forget to mention that part of the story?
yeah, he actually tripped the maid on purpose as she stepped out of the elevator, sending all those TP rolls flying…just a minor detail.
I like this orange haired man. Also, you.
I completely agree with Hornbuckle (that sounds so harsh like that, may I call you Mandy?)…not just because I am partial to orange hair…or blonde, for that matter.
Hahaha. Yes. You may call me Mandy. You may call me whatever you want, really. I was just distinguishing from the other Mandy (the “real” Mandy, if you will) this way since the Latshaws seem to love the super-weird Hornbuckle name so much.
I like it when people agree with Hornbuckle!!!
and how could one NOT love the name Hornbuckle?? It is so very entirely awesome and wonderful and storybook-ish, that I can hardly stand it.
Hahaha. Storybookish. Indeed.
The orange haired guy sounds so amazing, I want to meet him.
head on over to the new 42nd st studios, maybe he’s there a lot!….(wait, I forget–have we ever been there before?)