Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Better Late Than Never

I’d like to think that I know my kids pretty well. I have four children; the youngest just emptied the nest, yet, I’ve enjoyed over the years discovering and exploring differences unique to each one. In order to do this, you have to spend a lot of time with your kids, but mostly you have to be committed to watchful listening. That was never more apparent than a couple of years after my oldest, whom I lovingly call Sweet Pea, left for college. She called me one afternoon to unload her displeasure with her roommate. Her voice became increasingly more shrill as she shared each instance in which her roommate disappointed or upset her. Eventually she began to sob, but she never slowed down. I just listened, murmured a sympathetic “Hmmmm” from time to time, and tried to formulate some sage, yet sympathetic words for when it would be my turn to speak. As she neared the end of her displeasure list, she blurted out in righteous indignation, “And she doesn’t even bless me when I sneeze!”

What? Did I hear her correctly? It has never occurred to me to even notice if someone said, “Bless you” when I sneezed. It is just not important to me. Doesn’t even rate on the irritation scale. A non-issue. Furthermore, I can’t remember the last time I blessed someone else when they sneezed. How could I watchfully listen to this child for 20 years and not know this about her? Why did I not know that this was important to her, that this small gesture of kindness meant so much? In my own defense, she has never told me that it was important. She never said, “Please bless me when I sneeze, because it tells me that you care about me.” The fact is, though, it did mean a lot to her (and still does), and I simply did not notice because I cannot relate to this need.

As a result of that conversation, I not only have blessed more (of her) sneezes in the last seven years than I did in the previous twenty, I have also made an effort to study this phenomenon. This ancient tradition of blessing sneezes began over 1500 years ago with a superstitious belief that saying “Bless You” after a sneeze would prevent the sneezer from getting the plague. Another reason for this custom is best explained by Millhouse in an episode of The Simpsons that when you sneeze your soul tries to escape your body and saying “Bless You” crams it back in.

I do slip up from time to time. Recently we were walking along side by side at an outdoor mall. Lost in my thoughts, I realized that I was walking alone. I turned to find her staring at me with her head cocked to one side and her hands on her hips. “What?” I asked. “A stranger blessed me”, she said pointedly. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow” I replied densely. “I sneezed, and a stranger had to bless me because my own mother didn’t.” It took a moment for this to register, but the twinkling in her eye and her struggle not to smile made me laugh, because she, too, is a watchful listener. She knows me well enough to know that even though sneeze blessings are not my strength, I will try to meet this need because it is important to her.

“A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.”
Proverbs 25:11

2 comments:

NSRU said...

Recently I was visiting with a friend's eight year old son. He sneezed and I replied, "Scat". He responded, "What does that mean?" Hmm - maybe I should just stick to blessing people. Thanks for the heads up about Sweet Pea - I'll certainly offer a hearty "bless you" the next time I hear her sneeze.
NSRU

Ellen said...

I LOVED this post! LOL! Never read a blog on this topic before! How funny. I got here through a random hit on the CWO blog ring (I'm on there too). Anyway, thanks for the smile tonight.
Bless you!!!!! lol