Little White Lie

This evening I met with my girls group. My friend and I agreed almost four years ago that we'd take on this challenge. We have 7 girls (they were all 12-13 when we started) that are part of our circle. Each week, we have dinner, talk and focus on a "lesson" of some sort that usually jolts us out of the routine of our lives for a bit. It makes us think a little more about how we choose to live our lives, or about why we've chosen to live our lives pointed in a certain direction. As the leaders, we are ever aware that we do not have any of the answers and make it alarmingly clear each week, whether intended or not. While the group is based out of our common church, we tackle more than just Jesus. Neither of us who lead wanted another poorly attended Sunday School class during the week.

I'd say it's going well in year four. Our girls (I love calling them "our girls") are maturing and it's easier to have a conversational type "lesson" without being simply a moderator between stories about their grandmothers or their dogs. We can participate in the group discussion and have to direct it back toward the original topic less and less. Now, if there are tangents, the questions they birth will often prove more thoughtful than we could have hoped. The girls (our girls) are bringing the discussions into their lives and bringing their lives back into the discussions.

This evening, nearing the end of our time together, we decided to go around the group, each giving one high and one low for their week since we last met. I listened to highs of upcoming Thanksgiving break and lows of painful dental surgery. I would be the last to contribute. I was thinking about it. I had to THINK about my high for the week. I already had a low. My parents aren't doing so well at the moment. I thought about how much I loved my husband and how much I enjoy being with him, but immediately felt guilty because I take him for granted sometimes. I couldn't come up with a high right away. That's not usually like me. I can find the humor in anything. Especially if it's inappropriate for 16 yr olds.

Then it was my turn.

I decided to go ahead and start with the high. I told them something that I was proud of for the week, but it wasn't a high. I lied. It was just too pathetic NOT to have a high for the week. I'm a little low.

I kept the smile on, we all hugged and parted and I was on my way home. My usual go-to talk radio stations had been taken over with sports so I hit "scan." I stopped at a dj's story that caught my ear. She hadn't had a great week either. I was in the mood to take comfort in another's pain. Wait. That came out wrong. I was in the mood to take comfort in the fact that there are others out there, others like me, who have crappy days and live to tell about it.

Don't tell me you don't do it.

So, I'm listening to this story about how she's in a hurry to get something in a store, about how she's frustrated because she can't find the item and is carrying around her 9 month old, about how she finally gets to the check-out where this little old lady and some kids are in front of her and she's late for where she needs to be. Then she stops because the kids in front of her are playing with their new toys, their prizes from the trip to the store. She watches them and loses track of just how long she'd been in line (like when you get a juicy magazine and suddenly don't care about how long the person in front of you is taking to move on - even though you hunted for the shortest line). When she realized she'd been there for longer than she'd expected, she looked up to see the old lady was stalling, digging in the bottom of her purse for the change she needed to pay the entire bill for those prizes. When she caught on to what was happening, she dug in her purse and helped meet the bill.

While still late, she said it was the highlight of her day.

I have things to learn this week.