The color is that of red wine. It's a color I read about in a magazine a couple years ago; one that was suggested to go with any skin tone if you wanted a bold lip. It doesn't have a name. Just a number. 48. Who knew that that little number, that choice of color, would cause me a moment of self doubt, and later reflection on the subtleties of what's missing in this world. This country. Our own neighborhood. Around people we should feel the safest.
Sunday mornings are a time that my husband gets the kids up, makes breakfast, and lets me focus on myself. Somehow I tend to take every second of time to do so, and end up chomping down a muffin and slice of bacon in the passenger seat on the way to the 8:15 AM service. It often results in me applying lip color with only the use of the vanity mirror on the visor of the car.
On this particular morning, I dug into my purse and found one tube of lipstick. Opening it up, I realized it would be a bold choice, but figured since I was in neutral clothing and had done the rest of my face in a very simple look, I could get away with it. Plus, the wine color in the shade complimented the scarf that I had on. Little did I know the effect it would have on the people I encountered that morning. Or maybe the effect it would have on me.
We filed into our usual row, got comfortable, and the service began with the typical announcements and welcome. It was then that we were asked to greet one another before the first hymn. This custom usually suggests a handshake or hug with those nearby; a way of showing friendship and creating a sense of warmth to fellow attendees.
Perhaps it was because I was feeling a bit self-conscious, I picked up on a surprising behavior. I noticed how my neighbor would look at me long enough to take my hand in a shake, but immediately upon touch, their eyes were averted to the next person nearby. Not just once. But with a few people that were in our greeting vicinity. Not one person met my eye. Not one.
My mind wandered throughout the service. Could I have made such a faux pax with my choice of lip color to warrant this behavior? Or was something else going on?
And then it dawned on me. It wasn't because of my lip color. After all, I'm pretty sure that my husband would have said something if I was that out of line. I realized it was more about the comfort of connection.
I know. I know. We were in church, and if there's one place not to feel uncomfortable, this was It. But to walk up and greet someone you don't know, well, let's face it, it can be hard.
Okay, so I'm going to admit to something kind of embarrassing, but you know the show "Counting On?" The one with the Duggar kids who have gotten married and started families of their own? Yeah, well, I enjoy watching it. Its sweet, wholesome message just makes me happy, and the little babies are just so cute. On a recent episode, one of the newly married kids made the comment that he and his wife have a rule. A kiss has to last at least a few seconds. Not a quick peck that can be done without thinking, but something that actually establishes a connection.
At the time, I just chuckled and probably had the thought of "just wait until you've been married 18 years" running through my mind. But after this observation at church, I started to think more about it and realized what a great "rule" that was.
What if we all made the effort to really make eye contact with one another? To shake a hand or give a hug and make that person feel like they matter? To inquire how someone was doing and really take the time to hear their response?
I discussed this with my husband last night and he told me a colleague of his from France shared how culturally different Americans are than the French in the workplace. Where we might throw out a "how are you?" and expect the rote response of "fine," the French won't even ask unless they really want an answer. They are very deliberate with their words, and when a personal question is asked, they expect a thoughtful response in return.
How refreshing. I'm not suggesting you stop asking that common question, or reaching out for a friendly handshake or hug, but I am hoping we all might take it a bit more seriously. That we may extend the few extra moments it takes to make a connection. It may not lead to a new relationship or friendship, though that would be amazing, but it will definitely leave the person on the receiving end with a feeling of warmth. And with that feeling, you may just inspire them to do the same to the next person with whom they come in contact. And the possibilities and warmth we spread could be endless.
