Of Ca-PRIS and Cracker Barrel

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During this spring homeschool convention season, Ray and I stopped for a meal at Cracker Barrel. It was part of our continuing quest to eat our on-the-road meals sitting down in an actual chair at an actual table, instead of in the seat of a car, which has been our pattern much too often during the previous sixteen convention seasons.

When the meal was over, we walked — walked, not hobbled, mind you! — to the door to go out to the car. As we approached the door, a woman about fifteen years younger than we are reached for the door handle to come in, but then she stopped suddenly and held the door for us.

I thought something to the effect of, “Oh, I know what she’s doing. She’s being nice to old folks.” On similar occasions, Ray thinks, “Oh, now I’m one of those people for whom other people hold the door.”

Don’t get us wrong. We are grateful. Just surprised. New stages of life sort of sneak up on you without you knowing it.

Tunics and leggings are my new uniform this spring. I live in them. What’s not to like? They are so comfortable that it’s like wearing your PJs all day! It’s a small problem in the scheme of things, but it is a bit frustrating trying to find leggings that are short enough. Most seem to be three or four inches too long! Trouble is that they obey gravity all day long and slowly and surely bunch up around my knees and ankles — not exactly the “look” I’m going for.

One day this spring I visited a local boutique/second-hand clothing store (it’s a great combination!) and told the owner about my insignificant-in-the-scheme-of-things problem. She suggested that I try capris. I listened but wasn’t convinced because what I really wanted was leggings that come to my ankles, just no farther than my ankles.

Before I left the store, the nice lady reemphasized her advice to me, telling me with emphasis and sounding out each syllable, that what I need is ca-PRIS. I had to chuckle to myself and to Ray and to any friend who would listen. You see, I didn’t really need her to teach me about capris. I was probably wearing them before she was born. It’s just that back then we called them pedal pushers.

I guess I don’t only look old enough for people kindly to open the door for me. I guess I look like I need people to slow down and teach me how to shop in the modern world, too.

I wonder how many times I have tried to show respect and be helpful and have made someone else feel very grateful and at the same time just a little funny. I remember the time Ray’s dad’s health care providers wanted him to use a walker. My precious, kind, and sweet father-in-law hated it so much that we hid it from him. He told us, “People will laugh at me.” One day I asked my mother if she would like me to help her on the stairs or if she would rather do it herself. “Do it myself,” she responded.

You know what is really weird about that? I often worry about whether other people are thinking, “Why does Charlene let her mother do whatever by herself? Why doesn’t she help her?” Here’s another confession. I’ve been thinking about this blog post for weeks, but only yesterday got the courage to write it. I wouldn’t want you to think I was old or something!

This treating others the way we want to be treated takes lots of wisdom and putting ourselves in the place of another, something I know I need to learn myself.

In everything, therefore, treat people the same way you want them to treat you,
for this is the Law and the Prophets.
Matthew 7:12

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