I Used Up All My Good At School

“I used up all my good at school.”  My nephew, Auz, was 4-years old when he delivered this, one of my favorite quotes.  Let me set the scene: my sister-in-law, J, and I relaxed over coffee and girl talk in their Texas kitchen at the end of the day while we waited for my brother, M, to arrive home (hopefully) with Auz in tow.

Suddenly the front door flew open and a pint-sized blond Tasmanian Devil  spun into the foyer and across the house.  He came to rest at his mother’s feet, enormous green eyes glowing up at her.  His little jaw was set determinedly – think Leonidas facing the arriving crazed mass of Persians, though now that I say that it occurs to me that episode didn’t end well.  But I digress.  Back to the kitchen in Texas.

The little guy demanded shrilly, “Gimme milk!” Have I mentioned the Tasmanian Devil was Auz, although, I’m sure you’ve figured that out.  I mean, who has random whirling animals spin into their kitchens, right?

As not-a-parent, I almost spit my coffee across the room when my nephew stated his demand, because, let’s face it, the incongruity of a little bitty angelic face with the demonic despotic demand was hysterical.  But one look at my sister-in-law, and all sense of mirth – snap of the fingers – G-O-N-E.  J was staring down at her son with what I can only describe as dismayed defeat. Then a little bird (I’m sure it wasn’t a Lady Bird, though) twittered – not Tweeted – in my ear that this was a familiar scene, and I got it.

By now it had occurred to me that my brother was suspiciously absent.  Hmmmh.  Auz – at the table, hands on hips glowering at us.  Front door standing open.  No M.  I wondered if our Tasmanian Devil had cycloned over M in his haste for  la leche leaving M flattened on the front lawn withering in the San Antonio sun.  Just as I was thinking about standing up to go look for my big brother – I really should’ve done it sooner, apologies to M – he dragged himself through the front door, hunched and tired.

My brother is not a small man; he’s one of those guys with a neck is as big as his head.  As a career military man, he has excellent “military bearing;” the military, being what it is, just renamed good posture and a straight face.  So, when I say my brother was hunched and tired, this was completely out of character for him.  And, another enigma, he was carrying  – now read this in a high squeaky voice –  an itsy bitsy  backpack -Auz’s, not his.  This he deposited right by the door which he slowly, quietly pushed closed.

“Gim-ME MILK!”

Instantly, my focus snapped back to the tiny terror in front of me.  Yep, his face was now a strange shade of red, and I sensed a meltdown a-comin’.

My sister-in-law gently reminded Auz that he was NOT in charge as M approached the kitchen.  Standing in the doorway, M shook his head, a bemused expression upon his face.  “I just don’t get it,” my brother said.  “His teachers said he was so good today.”

J spoke softly to the little powder keg, “Auz, what happened?  You were so good today?”

Her question blew out the match that had so perilously threatened to light his fuse, and Auz’s demeanor flashed to pensive.  With effort straining his pre-school muscles, Little Man screeched back a kitchen chair and climbed up the rungs plopping himself onto the seat with an audible grunt then settled his elbows upon the table as a prop for his chin.  He was silent for a moment as he carefully considered what we adults had assumed was a rhetorical question, but then you know what they say about “a-s-s-u-m-e.”

We watched as thoughts flittered across his countenance.  Finally, he visibly settled on a satisfactory answer.  With great solemnity he announced, “I used up all my good at school.”

“I used up all my good at school.” He was 4, and yet, he spoke such profound truth.  How many times do I “use up all my good” before I get home, too?  How many times do I “use up all my good” in encounters with strangers and acquaintances leaving nothing in my emotional reserves for my family and friends?

Some of our oldest instructions – remember those top ten delivered on Mt Sinai – instruct us to honor our parents, but God didn’t stop there.  Throughout the Bible there are multitudes of references on how to treat our families.  My favorite comes from the Book of Ruth, the story of a young widow, Ruth, and her mother-in-law, Naomi. Ruth tells Naomi: I will go where you go, your people will be my people, your God my God.

I have difficulty imagining treating a mother-in-law – a relationship that has become the foundation of TV sitcoms and jokes – with such tenderness, such devotion.  I’ll follow you anywhere?  I’ll give up all I know, all I believe?  I trust that you know and will do what is best for me????? – And yet, this kind of trust, this kind of love is what God desires.  More than that, it’s what He expects. Doesn’t matter what relationship, just matters that it’s my family.  (Please understand that I am assuming that these are healthy, non-abusive relationships.)

Now, I am, after all, a Southern woman, a sorority girl, and a former Junior Leaguer.  I fervently believe in the adage that courtesy is the glue which holds society together.  So, I’m not saying that how I relate to strangers and acquaintances matters not.  Instead, what I am suggesting is that I excavate my heart, excavate my soul and tap anew the well of emotion that will ensure those who matter the most receive the sweetest I have to offer.

I love, I adore my family.  I love, I adore my friends.  I want them to know it, but more than that, I want them to feel it down into their very core.  I’d like to offer small servings of  “my good” to the dry cleaner and the teenager who makes my French fries.  But I want the lion’s share of that “good” to remain available so that when I walk through my door at the end of the day I have the gift of my heart to offer to the people who deserve it most.  I’d like to think I’m kind of, mostly there, but I guess I’d really have to ask the people my attitudes effect.  I’m not brave enough to do that yet.