she sat silently

She sat silently in the back of the store. She saw us walk in and made her way up to the front of the store. The store wasn’t that long, but for her 70 something yr old legs it might have seemed as if she were walking for miles. There was a TV playing old re-runs of Law and Order at the front of the store. I don’t think I recognized the episode.

We started looking around at the jewelry that was reasonably priced when she greeted us with a soft hello. She offered to take anything we wanted out of the display case if we wanted a closer look. The store was old and needed new carpet. The display cases looked like something you find at the good will, but I was intrigued by this little old woman behind the counter.

I asked her, “the sign out front says all the jewelry is authentic indian jewelry. Is that true?” She smiled and said that everything was made by the local Indian culture. They even cut some of the stones themselves. “Oh?”, I said. She smiled and said, “Yes.”

I smiled back and said I wanted to look at some of the earrings on this little display. “I like the studs these days. The big earrings are kind of a hassle.” She unlocked the counter and brought out the display for me to rummage through. I looked at her face and saw many stories hidden behind her thick glasses and soft speech. I gathered this was a woman who had seen more in her whole life than I could ever imagine.

I asked her, “How much are these?” She flipped over the back to show me the price tag written lightly in pencil. She said, “All these go for $8 but, I’ll let you have it for $6.” I smiled and said, “I think I’ll get two pairs then.”

Her accent was thick and seemed to be from Mexico. She moved as quickly as she could, but it was slow and easy movements. She spoke mostly out of the left side of her mouth I noticed. Im not sure why. Her dyed, curly, black hair was beginning to show some gray roots. She dressed up for her shop, you could tell she took pride in what she wore and what she did. Her clothing out of date, but clean and pressed. Red skirt and jacket with a floral button up shirt.

I asked her, “Is this your shop?”
“Oh yes,” she said smiling.
“How long have you had it?”
“38 years.”
“Oh wow! That’s a long time. Are you from Ruidoso?” By now I was curious about this woman’s life here.
“Oh no, I’m from Las Cruces.”, she said as she continued to smile. Her accent so thick I almost wondered if she was lying or if maybe they had thick accents in Las Cruces.
“How did you end up in Ruidoso?”, I asked curiously polite.

She then proceeded to tell me a story about her life. I could only catch bits and pieces of it, but I was able to get the jest of it. Apparently she and her husband would travel a lot. They would live for a short time in different cities and then pack up and leave for a new state and city. This went on for several years until they ended up in Ruidoso. They liked it so much they stayed. She laughs at this last comment.

I wanted to ask her so much more. Is her husband still alive? Did she have any kids? Does she ever wonder what the future holds for her? But alas it was time to leave. The kids were restless and I didn’t want their moms to worry about them.

I ended up buying two pairs of earrings from her. Not because I needed the earrings but because I wanted to buy something from her. A gesture of sorts to say thank you for sharing her story with me, a complete stranger who obviously just touring the town she loves. I should have taken her picture to share, but I will always remember her face.


-hil

this is a true story about a woman i met while on vacation in ruidoso, nm in jan 2010.

he confuses me

I find myself doing a lot of people watching lately. I mean a lot of people watching. I am in a new neighborhood and community so I am interested in what’s going on around me. But the more people I watch the more I am looking at myself.

You see, I have been a little introspective and neurotic lately. Just ask my best friend. She’ll tell you.

I meet people everywhere I go. Just starting random conversations with people at check out lines, church, restaurants and even fitting rooms. The more and more people I meet it makes me wonder about their lives. I want to know what’s going on in their lives. Are they happy or sad. Are they having a good day or a bad day. What are they struggling with that they don’t share with anyone because it’s too scary or hurts too much.

Then I wonder if the people I meet wonder that about me. Do they ask themselves the same questions?

If they did I would tell them that I don’t have it all figured out. Just as soon as I get a piece of the puzzle to fit, something else goes crazy and the whole puzzle is ruined. If they were to ask me why I laugh so much, I would tell them that I have to find humor in something because I get scared sometimes and laughing makes me believe it’s going to ok. I guess that some would call that hope.

If someone were to ask me if I was happy or sad I would say both. I feel all my emotions because I can’t live in denial of how things make me feel. But I would also tell them that I don’t share these emotions with a lot of people because I am very aware of how humanity treats each other. It’s a dark world out there full of people who are as crazy if not crazier than me.

I would tell them that I love art museums and roller coasters. I would tell them that I love watching, listening, and writing poetry but I am not so sure how much I enjoy reading it all the time. I enjoy reading poetry on occasion but I would much rather watch someone poor it out of there on stage. I would rather see someone set a room on fire with their words and their hearts. I would tell them that I am not that complicated of a person but that I am so confusing to understand. I would tell them I am confident on the outside but sometimes cringe on the inside. I would tell them that I wonder about this Jesus thing sometimes.

He confuses me. He knows my weakness and my sins. He knows what I keep hidden from the world and myself. He sees my worst and my craziness. He knows all my irrational behaviors and thoughts. He might even wonder why I am not taking meds anymore. Ok, so he probably doesn’t really wonder about the meds, but I sometimes wonder. He sees my human depravity and watches me skulk about. Pride. He knows about my pride.

With all of this, he still loves me. How is this possible? Yeah, this Jesus thing is so confusing. I want to measure up, I try and measure up but I fail every damn time. I have failed so much I have lost almost all hope in myself. As the days go by, and I lose more faith in myself I am beginning to learn that Jesus is going to have be who he says is or he’s a fake. If he’s a fake then I am screwed. But, I bet it all on that he is who he says is. He has to be. He just has to be.

If I have one iota of faith left in this broken heart, it’s that Jesus is who he says is. This all I got these days. I just have to let him be Jesus and quit trying to figure it out. Just let Jesus be the saviour he wants to be.

it's all about me

it's not really about me or you. it's about jesus and the selfish way we treat him and others in our communities, countries, and world. this blog is just a video that has sparked a deep meditation in my soul about my own selfishness. this video just proves we need a saviour to put in charge of our lives.

The Noughties by Matt Frie