Ask yourself this: What if we no longer saw long lines as an inconvenience but instead saw them as opportunities to speak to those around us? (Therefore, it didn’t matter if we had to stand in them or not.) What if we factored in taking more time getting to *insert appointment with life here* instead of actively looking for ways to speed up the process? What if we let go of having to control every aspect and detail of our lives and turned our introspection to more of an “outward”-spection?
“I printed off your boarding pass, but I couldn’t get you a seat closer to the front…and you’re in a middle seat,” my dad communicated to me late the other night. “An upgrade costs anywhere from $49-59. Maybe when you get there, you can just go up to the gate and have them check for any open seats…”
Forgetting that was offered by airlines, I looked at him and said, “Why would I change seats?”
“You know…more leg room…less time waiting to get off…”
Just so you get the wrong impression, in no way do I condemn my dad for this. He (like any awesome parent) seeks ways to bless my life, give me good gifts, even spoil me on occasion. But after coming off of a month not too long ago where $60 would have fed myself (plus another teammate) 3 meals a day for the whole month, I view that particular amount of money differently. Also, confined spaces around strangers are nothing foreign to me. Ultimately, it didn’t even occur to me to pursue an option of switching seats.
Why am I about to take way too long to tell this story? Well…because it made me think…specifically about COMFORT. Think about it: How much energy, thought, time, effort, etc. do you spend on making yourself comfortable? Not in a “how-dare-you-seek-the-comforts-of-this-world” kind of way, but in a general “we-all-like-to-be-comfortable” kind of way.
Examples:
- Checking the weather to know just what to wear that day so you aren’t too hot, nor too cold. (5 minutes on the TV, 30 seconds to ask Siri)
- Trying on multiple pairs of shoes, taking laps around the store in each pair to make sure the momentary comfort isn’t an illusion. (15-30 minutes)
- Or what about (and I really like this one) going to the office store and testing all the different flavors of chairs for your work desk. (35-40 minutes easy if you do it right) *
*Don’t judge. This could legitimately be a date night for me.
And not just conscious things. What about those actions we take in life that are so normal, we actually take them for granted? Like getting in our car in the middle of a hot, summer day and turning on the AC? Or getting in a car in general to save ourselves from a long trek to the grocery store?
Now again, I’m not condemning the desire to seek comfort. It’s not entirely a bad thing (unless you make it an idol and the main focus in life and you place your comfort above others, etc etc). I just want to bring our attention to it. We are a culture, an entire economic system, that thrives and functions on a desire to be comfortable. The latest products are released with the intention of simplifying our lives. Efficiency, reducing wait times and other forms of waste, is prized and sought after.
I’m a consumer just like pretty much all of us. I chose the machine that took 15 minutes to renew my license at the DMV over waiting in a stuffy room with strangers for 2 hours. After all, I have my life, my schedule, and my agenda to promote (not to mention I was in the middle of a season of Downton Abbey).
Maybe the unconscious comforts aren’t immediately obvious when trying to make a list, but we all become super aware of them when something goes wrong. We get in that car to turn the AC on, and it’s broken. Awareness strikes. When we jump in the shower first thing in the morning and suddenly the pending cup of coffee becomes more about warmth and no longer about waking us up. Awareness.
The point: comfort is something we value.
So what does all this have to do with me wanting to give up control?? In the words of one of my favorite speakers, “…relevancy is soon upon us.”
Whether you are aware of it or not, our culture has several “short-cuts” to cater to our desire to maintain a comfortable state 24/7. Once again, maybe you aren’t aware when you are taking advantage of the system, but it’s more obvious when you encounter a crack. Insert additional example for dramatic affect: “There’s 15 people in line and only one register open??”
I didn’t realize how much access I had to comfort in my “normal” life until I left this year. Even in places where some general comforts were available, I found myself unable to communicate in the local language. My food choices lacked diversity because I only knew how to order that one thing…for days. Therefore, I had to miss out on all the other yummy options.
And here’s when I started noticing something profound. I may not have been able to venture out and try new things, but I did get to develop a relationship with that same person behind that same counter. I may have only known that one restaurant, but after the second time going, the lady knew my order, and I knew her name. In the midst of my inability to do what I wanted, a friendship was being formed. Now I’m not saying I had met my new best friend and we could spend hours talking to each other (still a language barrier). But in a world where I knew only a handful of people, suddenly simply seeing a familiar face meant a whole lot more.
Full circle back to control. Since being back in my first culture, interacting daily in my first language, I’ve discovered I have more control than I ever realized. Instead of waiting in line and interacting with a cashier, I can choose to go through the self-checkout because 1) the screens are in English and 2) those things exist. I have the option of upgrading to a seat closer to the front of the plane to reduce waiting. (An option that when flying with 50 other people not only doesn’t exist but would be utterly pointless. No matter where you sit…you are still going to have to wait.)
I’ve also spent a year full of being forced to wait in all different kinds of situations: the good, the bad, and the ugly. That’s when I learned that the only control I really have is how I respond to whatever situation I’m in. I had to find a silver-lining. As a result, I often discovered hidden in those linings were these beautiful blessings: unexpected friendships, unexpected stories, unexpected smiles and laughter. Therefore, when my dad presented me with the option to simply switch seats to be more comfortable, I gratefully declined. “You know what,” I said. “I think God will put me exactly where He wants me.” After all, the less “control” I take, the fewer expectations I have for how the day should unfold, and the less stress I have if something doesn’t go as “planned”.
The end of the story is my favorite. I sat in the very back of the plane in a middle seat, two strikes against my preferences. (Window seats are actually my favorite!) A young dad with his young son spotted the seat beside me.
“Do you want me to move so you and your son can sit together?” I asked.
“Well actually, if you don’t mind, my wife and I got split up. Would you mind trading seats with her? She’s way up there in the front…in that seat…the one next to the window.”
Ultimately, the outcome was the same. But by removing myself from the equation, I was added something I could never have orchestrated: the look on the young mom’s face when I passed her in the aisle as she headed towards the now open seat next to her husband and son. (I’m glad I didn’t miss out on that!)
When it comes to control, I want less of it in my life. I want less preference and more Providence. I want less micromanagement. In its place, I want to leave room for those spontaneous adventures, those surprise encounters, those simple pleasures. I guess you could say I want to be out of control.
