A Cheerful Greeting

Why do I like him so much?

I lay in bed thinking of an elderly man far away. I decided quite some time ago that I'm a little more fond of him than the average elderly man I know. Good old Mr. Morgan. But why? I don't even know him very well.

Then it hit me. It's not just his testimony for the Lord or his personality or even just his gutsy cheerfulness through pain. It's the way he greets me. He says hello to me as if he actually liked me. Like we were best friends.

You see, I've realized that the way someone greets me can often make or break my day.

I think of Mr. Adams, dad to some of my friends. He has a knack for saying hello as if you were the most important person in the world. I noticed this one time when he came to a convention in my mid-teens. The way he beamed at me, shook my hand, and exclaimed, "Kayla! Good to see you!" as if he really meant it warmed my heart like you wouldn't believe.

I think of Mr. Brown. All three that I know. In their own way, they have a tendency to say hello as if I really meant something. Not every time, but often enough. Mr. P. Brown has a way of smiling gently at everybody as if they were special. You can see it in his eyes.

Mr. Maxwell makes a point of asking how you are like he really cared. I've seen him go out of his way to encourage somebody who could use it. Mr. Peterson twinkles his merry salutations. Uncle Tim can channel all of his forceful energy into the sunniest of welcomes. And I'll never forget how Uncle Dave came running up the hill behind me, arms open wide to give me a big hug eight years or so ago.

Wow, this is turning into a hymn about older men. Let's change that.

My mom is one of my favorite people with whom to exchange a greeting. Her name means "bright one" and boy does she show it. I still remember her waking me up to my first day of school, full of smiles and good cheer. But she's like this day after day. Only when something is bothering her does she relinquish her warm "good morning" to me. Then I know that something is wrong. Maybe that's why I'm so easily affected when I say "good morning" to somebody and they only mumble a reply. It's like somebody poked a hole in my entire day and my joy is about to deflate into nothing.

My brother Craig is another good example of this. Whenever he walks into a room, my day gets a little brighter. I know that if I say "hi" to him with a smile he will invariably reflect the same warmth back. Unless he's teasing me and pretending I'm weird if I've overdone it.

Jane, great friend and now sister-in-law, is one of the best examples of all. Not only does she give rib crunching hugs and sunny smiles when I see her, she can voice it too. I enjoyed being in Bible school with her because she was the only one who really knew how to give a hearty good morning. My enthusiasm paled in comparison to hers, but we took extra pleasure in exaggerating our ebullience to the point of irritation. Only it didn't irritate us, just those around us. I missed her after she was gone. No longer did I have a partner who enjoyed the same level of morbid cheerfulness. It wasn't that we always felt that cheerful, but if we pretended we were then it usually set the tone for the day and we would follow it.

After feeling deflated a few times when she was gone I started to unconsciously tone myself down, stuffing away the bubbliness for the sake of myself and others. Being deflated was too depressing. If they didn't reflect my warmth right back then I felt hurt and wasted. I went to all the trouble to express, not my cheerfulness, but my desire to be cheerful, and after all my effort I just got a limp reply? One may as well try to rouse a dead soldier than encourage a live one. I'd just as soon ignore the person than feel the snub of a dim answer.

But I know this is wrong. I started understanding after I'd expressed to the girls in my class last year that I appreciate a lively greeting. "It's not that I don't like you," one of them told me (actually, that's an extremely rough quote since I don't quite remember all she said), "it's just that I can't do it."

What?!? You mean everyone doesn't have the ability to be insanely cheerful even when you don't want to be? Oh. That makes sense. Maybe I have a gift. My problem is that for the sake of being normal I've started not using it. I like being real with people so I don't even bother putting on the chipper front, even though usually when I do the rest of me genuinely follows.

However, I started understanding the world a little bit better. I realized that we're not all the same. Once we had that little communication about not being able to duplicate morning cheerfulness, I could almost smile on the glares and mumbled replies. People can't help it if they're not geared the same way, and I shouldn't be bothered by it. Although I may still pull myself back in order to be sensitive to others, it's also important to not hold back our gifts just because they're different. We shouldn't hold them back even when we're afraid of being hurt.

And of course, we all have unique gifts. You might give good hugs or massages. Maybe you can make people laugh. Perhaps you can feel pain for other people, or notice if they're having a bad day. Maybe you can say and do what needs to be done in the fewest possible words. Or you have a knack for coming up with tiny, spontaneous gifts. Possibly you can give a thoughtful compliment. Or you can inspire people. Perhaps you can rhyme and make up songs on the spot like nobody's business. Or draw a unique picture that builds someone up. Whatever it is, we need to treasure these gifts, not look on them as oddities, because God gave them to us for a purpose. Stuffing them away isn't going to do anybody any good.

I need to remember that.

Perhaps the stranger with the dead soldier demeanor is the one who needs to see my smile.