… So Thanksgiving caught me off guard this year. I wanted to do a bit more than my slated 3-hour galumphing around Austin with apples, iPod, and Rollo May book in hand. My calls to the Salvation Army were met with: “Sweetie, you should have called 3 weeks ago to help out – there’s no more room in the kitchen. Maybe next year, but thank you for thinking of us.”
So, I improvised. I packed my shoulderbag with the usual necessities plus a Halloween-sized bag of hard candy from my favorite little sweet shop and a really bad joke book…the kind with Yogi Berraisms and Seinfeld references. And off I went to chat with the locals…the real locals: those living here in Austin without a place to call home.
As I approached the enormous parking lot, I saw a sight that was awe-inspiring and surprising. Hundreds of folks milling around, chatting, dancing, singing God’s melodies, adding odds and ends to their stash, sharing clothes that don’t fit with others, telling stories and laughing in the sunlight. The calm was interrupted here and there as church vans cruised up to unload bags of necessities, and random VWs, Volvos and Hummers. It wasn’t crowds of restless, needy folks grabbing and hunting, hoarding and grumbling. It was just the opposite…a beautiful, humbling sight.
But irony of encapsulating it all, was that the homeless didn’t pounce on the donators nor did they rumble to get their share. They were all quite appreciative, and satisfied to simply wait until they’d digested their last meal to even plan a strategy for gathering the next. They were at ease with all but one thing.
And as I walked through the crowds, passing out handfuls of candy, with a side of lame jokes and one-liners, I realized that the one thing was me. But not because I was not “one of them.” I realized that just one new voice, my voice, was the only dessert that they all really wanted. Folks of every color, age, and number of teeth swarmed around me, but not for the candy. They wanted to talk! They wanted someone to make them laugh. For hours, they requested more jokes, shared their poetry, asked what my goals are and where I’m from and what church I go to…and they sang gospel. They offered me something to drink, a jacket that might just be my size and even some smokes and a place to sit!
Leaving to head home, I was mixed with feelings of guilt and joy, enlightenment and confusion. But, the laughs, conversations, handshakes and hugs are tattooed on my noggin, I’ll have you know. Frankly, I think I walked away with more than I gave. Thanksgiving will never be the same.
But story aside, here is your take-away, folks …
“Significant conversations build relationships.”
We are having a conversation right now. Each email you have received from your coworkers, your friends, that pain-in-the-ass Real Estate guy who keeps spamming you has been a conversation. Each seminar, piece of mail, memo, gossip session, dinner-date, meeting, and “Hi, honey, I’m home,” equals a conversation. And in each case, the messages delivered, inferred, interpreted, or perhaps, lost, held some degree of importance, for they hit their target—you.
That said, I have a simple message: pay attention. Pay attention to the impact of the barrage of messages that flurry around you day-in and day-out.
Pay attention to these conversations because they build and sustain the relationships that keep you alive. Follow the ornate trail leading to the person or people responsible, and you’ll learn that they invariably feel and think the very same way. Nurture and grow these relationships with appreciation, respect, and love. They are significant and deserve nothing less, and neither do you.
This article contains copyrighted excerpts from Kimberlie Dykeman's book Pure Soapbox … a cleansing jolt of perspective, motivation, and humor (Wiggy Press, 2008) SOAPBOX® is a registered trademark of Kimberlie Dykeman. Visit website and interactive blog at www.puresoapbox.com. LIVESTRONG™ is the sole beneficiary of a portion of all book proceeds.
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