Life Lessons
We Can’t Know What We Don’t Know
...But That’s Really No Excuse
By Crystal Christmas
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Crystal
Christmas |
I was surprised by a comment a lady in an
after-hours networking group made to me one day.
"You know... you're not as stuck up as everyone says
you are."
"Stuck up?" I questioned. "Yes," she replied
furthering her thought by telling me that some of
the ladies had come to that conclusion because I
didn’t talk much and looked like one of those
‘cheerleader types.’
Embarrassed and surprised, I told her I didn’t
talk much because group settings made me
uncomfortable. I had always been pretty shy and it
was something I was working on because of my
business.
"You? Shy? I would have never guessed that,” she
said.
The truth is, I always wanted to be a
cheerleader. I wasn’t skilled enough and certainly
wasn’t popular enough so I never even tried.
Here and there I have heard other similar
comments. I have mostly laughed them off, never
giving as much explanation to anyone else as I did
to her that day. I always wondered, though, what the
person making the comment might think or say if I
told them that when I moved to Texas in 1983, one of
the first things we did was go shopping for some new
clothes. ‘Shopping’ took place at some Saturday
morning garage sales. We couldn’t afford to go to
the mall and that was okay with me. It was at one of
these garage sales that I bought my all-time
favorite pair of jeans. The price: 25 cents.
We moved to Texas because the privately-owned
business my dad managed had been struggling
financially and there were no funds in the bank to
cash the paychecks sitting in his wallet. My
grandfather lived in an affluent area in Houston, in
what we called a “mansion” when we first saw it. He
was building a career in real estate and offered his
son the opportunity to come and join him. I don’t
remember anyone explaining to us what was happening
at the time. I just remember hearing my dad say to
my mom that he would do what was required to take
care of her and the three of us girls. I, the middle
child, remember thinking moving to Texas would be an
adventure. We had visited my grandpa in the summers
and always had a lot of fun. Plus, with Astroworld
so close, I just knew we’d be going there every
weekend. I guess I’m glad I didn’t know that we had
no money for a house or food, much less an amusement
park.
So we said our goodbyes and my dad left his job.
We left our house (a double-wide mobile home) and
probably some of our belongings. When we got to
Houston, life seemed really good. PeePaw’s house was
beautiful. I will never forget telling my friends
back home that I lived in a great big mansion with a
winding staircase.
Not too long after we had been here, my grandpa
helped my parents rent a home of their own, so we
moved from the mansion into a cozy, smaller house.
It was the year it snowed pretty heavily in Houston.
For Christmas, my big sister and I each got a gold
ring. Both had come from my mom’s jewelry box
because my parents couldn’t afford anything else. It
was fine with me. I felt special to have Mom’s ring.
While working towards his real estate license, my
dad held down a couple of different jobs. I remember
one was driving a shuttle bus between a hotel and
the airport. He also took other odd jobs so they
could get back on their feet. He had been a general
manager in the flight industry, but the economy in
Houston wasn't much better than where we had come
from in Louisiana. The city only brought more
immediate opportunities.
I was too young to understand that we were going
through a recession, and almost too young to feel
any repercussions from it. I remember hearing that
“the bottom was falling out of the oil industry” and
surmised that this had something to do with why my
dad wasn’t successful in real estate. He evolved
into becoming a business-owner by taking more and
more odd jobs until they took all of his time. We
laugh remembering one of the ways he got the word
out – me stuffing flyers in the tiny local newspaper
I delivered for spending money. Years later it
dawned on us that we probably weren’t supposed to do
that.
I sometimes say I am an entrepreneur because it
is what I know. I grew up watching my dad do it and,
when the idea for That! Texas Magazine came along,
it seemed natural to just go for it. I had two
mouths to feed and had to do something. I used to
think my dad was cool because he owned a business.
Others have said the same about me, while many more
just think that what I do is glamorous. It has its
perks, but is a lot harder than I thought it would
be.
These life experiences have helped me to see that
that there is more to most things than what meets
the eye. A friend once said it this way, “For every
10% we know, there is 90% more we don’t know.”
A story that puts it into perspective goes like
this: A man and his children were on a bus one day.
The children were out of control, running up and
down the aisles and making lots of noise. This
annoyed some of the passengers. Their father seemed
oblivious to what was going on, and didn’t stop to
correct them, which irritated some of the passengers
even more. Finally, one man decided to give the
father a piece of his mind to which the father
responded with a humble and sincere apology. He said
something like, “Oh, please forgive them and me. I
am so sorry I didn’t realize what they were doing.
We just left the hospital. Their mother had been
sick for some time and passed away this morning. I
guess I was lost in the thought of how we are going
to make it without her.”
I bet that guy who was complaining felt crummy
then. Chances are we have all had this done to us
and probably have even been selfish enough to do it
to someone else. As a tender twelve-year-old, I was
asked by another child at school where I got my
favorite pair of jeans. “A garage sale,” I answered
innocently.
My fellow students used this information as
ammunition to begin a battle that wasn’t worth the
fight. In the process, they successfully tore me
down in an attempt to build themselves up. A little
jab here, a joke made there. Cruel, cruel laughter.
A few private tears on my part, and many years of
reflection brought me to wonder, “What if they knew
my whole story? How might it have been different?” I
believe if you gathered them in a room today and
told them the whole story, they would want to go
back and change it.
Last month when I was cleaning out my closet, I
came across my torn and ragged 25 cent jeans. Funny
that I kept them all these years.
I held them up and looked at the holes and places
where they had been mended. “Hmmm...a metaphor for
my own life,” I thought, before hanging them back
up, closer to the front.
I think they will serve as a good reminder for me
to not take it personally when I am hurt by others.
I am like the man on the bus who lost his wife; the
others couldn’t have known what they didn’t know.
And even though that’s no excuse for ugliness, it
does hasten forgiveness.
Thankfully there are fewer times in my life when
I have found myself to be like the passenger. I,
too, can’t know what I don’t know, but I will try
not to use this as an excuse. Instead, I hope it
helps me remember to seize those moments as an
opportunity to show to others some of the grace that
God has shown to me.
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