2004-01-03 - 11:24 p.m.
What Condition my Condition was in
Today my condition is more true than it was yesterday. Tomorrow? Well, tomorrow I’ll be looking out my glass doors to thick drifts of snow and ice, snuggling deep in a blanket with book in one hand and rich hot chocolate in another, and ignoring a choice list of things-I-could-be-should-be-doing. Eventually I’ll get tired of that and do something, like write another letter, call a friend, or something.
Next week is another six-day week although I was scheduled for four. Each day I will grow less thrilled about, but no less appreciative of the place I work. Each day I will greet a hundred faces I don’t recognize and each time strive to bring one smile to his or to her face vaguely wondering if that made a difference in their day.
Carlos will say “hello” to me now, and I will know he means it. Adam will say something particularly nerdy or annoying and Randy will say aloud, almost to himself, in disbelief, “And you two are dating,” then go on to amuse himself and the rest of us for a few more hours. Megan will complain. Jeff will glare dourly at the displays, at us, at the guests, make sarcastic and perverse remarks, laugh at my distresses, and treat me like “the little sister [he] never had.” Andy, on the verge of tears lately, will “kid because [he] cares”, comment how difficult it must be to work with him, and make my day with his self-amusements. Allison will come by because she excited that a new product came in or to say something about herself. Pheobe, half-way laughing at us and humans in general, will be cool. She’ll also tell some good stories. Dusti will talk about cats with Randy for hours, never pausing in her tasks for an instant. Michael will admire some tall, slender man. Arthur will walk in the door: some will huddle by the meat slicer while others will walk down to meet his demands.
The slight social change that has occurred since August, helps: as I suspected, people have gotten used to me being around, I am more comfortable in general, and I have since been around to fill some hefty favors. In other words, I’d be missed if I left now. Comforting in a self-gratifying sense.
No one is a friend, and I have been a friend to no one. Lately I have met a couple women whose problems I would not be terrified—I don’t think—to know. At first, I shied from knowing the personal problems of my co-workers whose habits to which I did not necessarily want to expose my soul, raw from the experiences of summer. The reasons I had then still apply and I remain firm in my initial decision. My co-workers, however, have taken on a third dimension since then, allowing me to see that I could know them. In response to this final observation I am concocting a plan to host a pot-luck literature dinner similar to what took place in Adam’s Hillsdale apartment two years ago--minus professors and Carlo Rossi. The event of this past week (many thanks to those who were here) it would help having friends and occiasions out here.
I have forgotten.
Today I said, “It’s just tea.” A month ago I explained that my pursuit has nothing to do with tea, but everything to do with charity. If I could minister to hearts selling panes of glass – I were passionate enough about glass – then I would want to sell panes of glass. If my years in the dorms were any indication, my natural medium of charity was tea -- and food when I had it. It was only natural, therefore, that I would want to spend my days serving tea.
Soon, the dream had expanded into a full-fledged restaurant. An introvert, shy, preferring to be the indispensable behind-the-scenes person, and a bumbling idiot when it came to loving strangers, I knew my place was not as the entertainer or server.
There is more thought behind this than can be told, but I should add that I also realized I could not monitor what occurred at the tables, nor should I. The best I could do was provide a place where it was possible for love to occur: I would dedicate the space to God to work His miracles though I might never see them.
Symbolic to the point of being silly, I wrote in class notes and on napkins, ideas that came to me how to share the Christian message in ways palatable to the non-Christian.
It was never about the tea.
One thing I learned while working at The Gathering Coffee Shop is that I detest selling a product I know is poor and that is why I wanted to learn about tea. In the process, however, I have forgotten the genuine reason that brought me to Ann Arbor and to Zingerman’s, because today I said, “It’s just tea.”
Lately, thoughts of responsibility crowd my thoughts. I have been waiting for them. Instead of brushing them aside as distractions from faith in God to lead me through the hard times, I am wondering if finding a job better suited to my experiences and skills and college education might not be the better track. Then later, when I can afford to, begin the tea room.
Following a dream, especially one that has thus far been supported through prayer, is not always about doing the most responsible thing. I am hesitant to let it go for many reasons, including pride.
I’ve got a roof over my head, shelter for friends, food to warm the internal fires, and a job at a place that appreciates me. There’s a great deal to appreciate right now. So I will continue to wait, as I knew I was here to do this year. Just wait, listen to above, work, love, and wait some more.
