This past weekend at my brother’s house I was half-way down the stairs when Z’s little 6 year-old voice down echoed down the stairwell, stopping me in my tracks. “Auz,” he inquired of his 10 year-old wizened brother, “what’s a hipster?”
Now, maybe for the sake of propriety I should say that I moved along and certainly didn’t eaves drop on my beloved little dudes, but, alas I did not. And don’t tell me you wouldn’t have paused for that answer, too. You know you sooo would’ve. And Auz’s calm, collected, confident, not to mention definitive answer: “It’s Winnie the Pooh.”
My eyes must practically jumped out of their sockets, and I’d like to say that the morally grey area of listening in on a 6 and 10 years’ old conversation forced me down the rest of the stairs, but I can’t lie. It was the terror of discovery; I was about to burst out-loud laughing. I dare not laugh, nor give myself away in any other tell-tale manner. After all, I needed these kids to trust me, right? (Like listening in stairwells was trustworthy? I am not above recognizing my own hypocrisy.) So, I proceeded calmly down the stairs, and, I think God was punishing me because there wasn’t another soul with whom around to share this ‘Isn’t this adorable moment?’
That got me to thinking about all the things we, as adults miss out on in the name of decorum or ‘good sense.’ Now, I’m not talking of Meg Ryan – City of Angels – riding down the forestry trucking road – arms outstretched, head back, eyes closed – audience -totally -sees- it -coming – SPLAT! I mean the going back upstairs and curling up with my nephews and asking about Winnie as a Hipster. Maybe they know something I don’t. In fact, I’m willing to bet the whole kit n’ caboodle that they know bunches I don’t, but I’m less and less willing to ask. Why? Embarrassment? No, pretty sure that isn’t it. But I don’t know what holds me stuck in this tar baby of a place.
Maybe I’ll sense a subtle shift of balance. I’ve always been the one with the answers. If I become the one with the questions, what then, does that change about our relationship? Am I ready for that? Are they?
Which led me to a much higher place then Winnie the Pooh: Hipster. Now just go with me here, ok? I wanted to laugh at Auz’s description of Pooh Bear because it seemed so ludicrously out of bounds as we know him to be as his creator, Milne, intended. I discarded his description and didn’t bother to ask for his definition or description of a “hipster;” in other words, I ingnored the why. And then I realized the truly sad part was that while I might be ignoring the why (I’m generalizing here) I was probably ignoring the person as well. And I could give you an arm’s length long list of excuses for ignoring a person.
Was that person too different from me? Were they too calm, too collected, too beautiful? Would I get rebuffed if I reached out to them? But then I had to laugh at my hypocrisy because all my reasons for not reaching out to someone were about (ta-da) ME. These bricks of insecurities I have carefully collected over the past 38 year have built a wall around me, each brick etched with words like “fat” or “divorced” or “unlovable.” And whether these words are objectively true or subjectively felt the weight is the same, and they bear down just as heavily.
Jesus told us to set down our burdens, for Him they were light. I don’t know why I fight Him on this each and every day, because really, hip-hip-hooray! Take these awful things that weigh so heavily on my heart and mind. Really, if you’re willing to carry the burden – my burden, my heart and soul cry out to you with words my mouth can barely imagine whispering.
Oh, and could you please explain to Auz and Z what a hipster is?
The Unexpected Life 