#7 Modern Manners

What has happened to basic common courtesy in our generation?  Can't really blame it on technology, but it's not the fault of an inanimate object that you can't be a person on of your word.  I am surrounded by people who say they will do something but don't. Or people who won't commit because they want to keep their options open.  Or think it's ok to bail at the last minute when others are counting on them.

When I first told my friends that we might be moving to Texas, I told them that part of what has been building on mine and my husband's hearts is the feeling that we're living in a place where everyone is just too busy.  Busy working, busy playing.  Either way, just too busy to be bothered.  We did live for three short years in a cul-de-sac where most of the kids played like I imagined it used to be (or maybe exists in other cities).  They just ran around outside and climbed trees and rode bikes and used chalk to draw parking places or tracks, or jumped on a trampoline.  It was organic connection within a community.  We had many spontaneous cul-de-sac parties where everyone just brought out whatever drink or food might be shared by the neighbors.  And it was pretty easy (not perfect of course), no plans to be kept, no schedules to be checked before making a date.

As a pretty type-A person by nature, I was also raised by my parents to be reliable.  I try to be a person of my word.  "Let your yes be yes and your no be no."  
So, flakes are my number one pet peeve.  I will say that I've consciously had to suck up my frustration with flakiness over the years.  I understand sickness, broken down cars, and unexpected mishaps.  But in truth, most people are just selfish.  What matters more is what's convenient to you than any commitment you made to me.  
And maybe this where technology can be blamed for aiding and abetting.  Before texting or emailing, you couldn't cancel at the last minute without at least a person-to-person phone call.  

As our move becomes reality, I am understandably emotional and sensitive.  The more people we tell about our move, the more who say, "we really need to get together before you go."  Most, I understand are merely saying it because it's the expected thing to say.  I just nod and say, "we should."  I may even suggest a location or a day to which I usually receive a vague reply.  

I love making plans and being with people I love, but I've become cynical in the past few years.  Even my best friends and family are guilty of being last minute cancelers.  I've adjusted my own hurt feelings to be the better person, but in my heart, I don't really want to be treated as less important or as a constant "I'll get back to you" but you don't.  It was probably because you forgot or got caught up in something else or really just didn't have the time.  But I'm a grown up.  I've handled my share of rejection and heartache.  The scars have shaped me into a wiser and hopefully more understanding person than I was in the past. 

Today, however, the Mama Bear has come out.  My sweet ten year old daughter has been hurt.  Her eyes were the ones welled up with tears over the thoughtlessness of another.  

And it was an adult.

When I emailed the group of girls that she played with at her school to notify them all that she would not be back next year due to our move, I received a handful of well wishes and "we'll miss your family."  Two specifically, asked for one last playdate.  So I threw out the option of a day & time at a familiar park.  Both mothers responded with cheerful "yes, that day works."  

So, a week later, the day approaches, and we rush around to plan our timing around the upcoming playdate.  We packed popsicles in a cooler to share with the girls and any siblings who came.  And as the hour before approached, I received an email from one girl's mother saying her daughters woke up sick and she felt terrible canceling by email but didn't have my number.  Disappointment flooded as I knew my daughter would be sad about this particular girl.  But we headed to the park anyway, knowing she would at least get one goodbye for closure to this chapter of her life.  I sent a text to the second mother, letting her know we were 5-10 minutes late but headed to the park.  As we approached the park, I heard the text notification.  I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.  Sure enough, as I parked the car and glanced at the text, I read "Oh my gosh, I'm lame!  Totally forgot about today."  And then proceeded with excuses and a request for my daughter to instead play tomorrow.  In the meantime, I'm staring at my daughter sitting on the swings while she's waiting with expectation.  Tears of sadness (and truthfully, weighted by PMS hormones) fill my eyes as I know I'm going to have to tell her that no one is coming to say goodbye.  

I walk with pained steps to greet her at the swing.  I'm so sorry, honey.  She isn't coming.  Her mom forgot and since they live forty-five minutes away and she has a doctor appointment this afternoon, they can't just come late.  Her lip and eyes give her away, and I try to hug away her disappointment.  We leave the park and return home to put the popsicles back into the freezer.

With this fresh betrayal, I am ready to fling it all in boxes and hit the road.  Forget the next three weeks of scheduled camping, parties, and playdates that remain.  Most will probably not even bother to show up, right?  Are we really just "forgettable" people?  Do we all have too many friends, acquaintances, plans, that we can't balance our calendars?  Those calendars that are built into our phones with alert reminders to tell us the day before, or the minute of?  As little pieces of our hearts will continue to be bruised as we exit this life we've built here in North County, I'm going to cling to the hope that lives outside myself or my friends. For I know that I've done my share of disappointing and heartbreaking.  And I'll choose forgiveness and love.  Deep breath.  Over and over.  Seventy times seven.

"Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who in heaven."  He knows that my intentions are pure.  Help me "bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you."  Give me strength to be the person I'm called to be.

And for those of my friends reading this, who are wondering, did I do that?  Probably not.  But maybe.  I still love you.