Flowers for Rebecca

I don't know why this experience came to mind recently so I don't know where 
this blog post is headed, but I want to write about it. Care to go on this 
adventure with me? Some of it is painful.

I was 19, away from home at college and not feeling too great about myself. 
Truth was, prior to leaving FL to finish my bachelor's in UT, I was pretty 
popular with the boys. Cute, sassy, hard-to-get, blond, just needy enough and 
intelligent. Well, within my first semester at BYU things changed and I suddenly 
felt out of place, out of sorts, uncomfortable in my own skin and grumpy.

The event in speculation was a social gathering at a ward member's apartment. It 
was packed. Like, nearly uncomfortably so. Mingling, drinking (need I say "of 
punch"?), laughing, the works. At some point I sat down next to a gal in the 
middle of the love seat leaving enough space for another warm body. And I 
waited. I waited a while. I waited so long that my cynical self turned the 
situation into a negative self-affirming social experiment.

Turning to the girl next to me, I pointed out that in this very crowded room, no 
one was sitting next to me. I said, "I bet that if you switch seats with me, 
someone will sit down next to you." She and her friends gave immediate, "Na-uh"s 
and "No way"s but she obliged, placing herself in the middle between me and an 
empty spot. And in a scene fit for the screen, in less than 15 seconds, some 
tall blond kid plopped himself right down next to her! You could see the jaws 
drop of her and her girlfriends. You could sense the tension. He could too. I 
got up and left.

I am sure most of you know exactly what I did. I went back to my apartment 
feeling horrible and sorry for myself. I cried a ugly cry and spilled the story 
to my roommates (bless their hearts, I had such wonderful roommates). Because 
what had I done? I set myself up to feel awful. I chose to take a neutral 
situation and apply horrendous meaning to it.

Fast forward to the next day. I get home from school to find that I have been 
sent flowers. First flowers ever (as an adult that didn't come from a family 
member). They were colorful and full. Attached was a card. If I have saved it, I 
don't know where it is. I wish I could recall what was written and what the poor 
kid's name was. It was an apology note. The tall blond worded it in such a way 
as to bring some peace to my mind but not make me think he was madly in love 
with me. Who knows, maybe a girl helped him. :-) 

But it was healing.

I toss this experience around in my mind from a dozen different angles. I think 
about the miserable girl who no one wanted to sit next to because she probably 
looked like a miserable person to speak to! I think of all the people who had no 
responsibility to me and my pain. I think of how much of a victim I let myself 
be. I think of those other girls and their jaws dropping open. I think about how 
even in this situation, I still savored being right. :-) I think about what I 
can give my own daughters to guard against being in that state of mind to start 
with and what I would like to see them do if no one sits next to them on a 
couch. And I think of that boy, just as much a innocent bystander as anyone 
else. He owed me no apology or flowers yet he chose to take a risk (for all he 
knew I was psycho crazy, not just sad) and extend part of himself to me. I don't 
think the kid had any real responsibility to me in this scenario, but he had 
been placed there and sought to make it right. I respect that. I think of my son 
and how I would be proud to have him respond in such a manner when it would be 
so easy to simply feel awkward and ignore the other person from there on out. I 
think about what I can do now to instill a caring and love of others so that he 
would feel the desire to help heal another's wounds, but not take on their pain. 
And I lack a magic answer but I am sure it has something to do with Christ.