How to treat a girl...part one

We have lost something in our culture. Very slowly, etiquette is sneaking away, tail between its legs, head down, dejected from lack of attention.


Yes, that's it...lack of attention. Where are the lessons in politeness, listening skills, and other humanities? I attended a humanities class in the seventh grade, where our teacher attempted to teach us counting in Italian (when are we ever going to need that?), Robert's Rules of Order (boring!), and I don't even remember what else. Probably social etiquette, like how many forks to set at a dinner party, and on which side of the plate they should go. Funny, that I remember (up to a point...I've never used more than two forks). Obviously, none of us (and I was usually a model student) thought any of it was relevant - or anywhere close to cool. I look back and wonder at my younger self...

But today, I witnessed a prime example of boy/girl social etiquette in contrast in the college town where I work. The same scene played out at a stop light twice during the lunch hour.


Scene #1:
Young (American) couple crosses street. She is wearing a dress (not that it should matter, but let's face it, a dress matters in how she walks). They start out crossing together, then they start to skip-run a bit. He runs on ahead of her, leaving her to finish crossing alone.


Scene #2:
Young (Asian) couple crosses the street. He has his arm around her shoulder, hers is around his waist. They cross together like this, not hurrying, but going at a pace comfortable for her.



Which guy gets the award for how to treat a lady? Do you think it matters? Why or why not?
Is it relevant that one couple was Asian and the other couple American? Should it be?
Is it relevant that they were both college age? Should it be?
Is dress relevant? Should it be?

What questions or comments do you have on how to treat girls?
Do you think I'm old fashioned, and should wake up to today's lifestyle, standards, or culture?
Do you wish you lived in a time where these things mattered more?

In the first scent, my husband seems to think it was a game for them - like a little race to see who crossed first. Do you think he should have let her win? Would you race across a street if you were in a dress (girls) or if your girl companion were?

Do you have any memories of this sort? Were you treated with respect? Did you get shot down for doing the polite thing? How does this subject make you feel?

I'm looking for interaction here. Comment away! Let's start a conversation.

Are You Still Asking?

In the time of Herod king of Judea there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly division of Abijah; his wife Elizabeth was also a descendant of Aaron. Both of them were righteous in the sight of God, observing all the Lord’s commands and decrees blamelessly. But they were childless because Elizabeth was not able to conceive, and they were both very old. (Luke 1:5-7 NIV)

Then an angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was startled and was gripped with fear. But the angel said to him: “Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to call him John. (Luke 1:11-13 NIV)

"Your prayers have been answered," said the angel. Zechariah and Elizabeth were both very old. At what point do you think they had stopped praying for a child? In their thirties? Forties? Certainly menopause would have made them give up their hope. Well, I would have lost hope by then...maybe long before.

What took so long? We're they unworthy of the answer?

No. The verses above state clearly that Zechariah and Elizabeth both were blameless before the Lord.

I don't know that that could be said of me.

So, why now? Did God forget about them, then make up for it by sending an angel? No. Our God doesn't roll like that. He knew all along. 

He was waiting. Patience, my daughter and son. It isn't time yet.

Time for what? 

For all things to be ready.

All the neighbors were filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, “What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him. (Luke 1:65, 66 NIV)

The Lord loves to come through after all things point to the impossibility, and dramatically reveal the miracle!

He puts it all together...

John the Baptist

Mary and Joseph

Caesar on the throne, and the census

The new star, the wise men

The choir of angels

How Not to Let Your Heart Break

I flew across the country on my birthday. Leaving behind all that is familiar and comfortable, I knew this would be wonderful and terrible all at once.

I have been here before, to the City by the Bay. I always say, "It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there." Truth be told, my flesh spirit would not want to live there.

When the lights go down in this city, and the sun shines on the Bay, if you are out on the streets you will see sleeping bags stirring on the sidewalks and hotels hosing off the debris from the night. Thousands live without conveniences, and call it a simple life. Many choose to call the sidewalks their homes, staking out claims on public property with no mail boxes. Arguments ensue if you are close enough and late enough to overhear...this is MY spot...I've been here for all this time..

If you are coming home from work, or a conference, or shopping...you may see a girl on Fourth Street, tangled hair, looking down, sitting on the walk by the street facing toward pedestrians with a white Guinea pig and white cup at her crossed legs.

If you are having a happy conversation with colleagues, recounting the day behind, planning the time ahead...you may be approached by a large black man, knuckles outstretched, singing a song for you to join in...fist-bumps ensue, then hand turns palm upward. "Have ya got a dolla' for me?" And seeing a wallet full, he will ask for a second dollar. Then a third.

What can one person do? Thousands sleep in open air, beg for the next ten cents, fifty cents, dollar. An Asian lady crushes water bottles so as to fit more into her meager bag, using a reaching tool to pull back one that rolls out of reach. I want to pick it up for her.

I want to look that girl in the face - the one with the white Guinea pig - and ask her, "What are you doing here?" Doesn't she have a mother who cares? A grandmother? What if she does not?

What am I to do?

I rationalize...if you feed one, he will tell his friends. Next thing you know, there are a dozen. Like the sea gulls at the park.

I ask my soul what Jesus would do.
At the pool of Bethesda, he healed only one.
But at other homes and in the wilderness, he fed and healed all.

This isn't working.

It is a complicated issue, I counter with myself.

I am only here for five days.

In the end, what do I do? I fill my thoughts with what I need to do next...the t-shirts for the children in my life...the Park I haven't seen yet...the new friend waiting for today's adventure. This is how I cover my heart.

This is how I keep my heart from falling at my feet, shattered, broken, spent...