Snapshots

Awhile back I blogged about how I see life in snapshots. Sometimes I am playing with the boys and its as if a camera goes off and the image is forever imprinted on my mind. I am thankful for those "snapshot" memories. Thankful that they are mostly all good. But it hit me the other day how judgmental people can be and how so often their judgements and opinions are based upon a moment in time...a snapshot of someone else's life. I guess I have always known this to be true, but it wasn't until I became a parent that it became so personal.
There was the time Landon was 3 years old and I was 7 months pregnant with Noah and my usually well behaved toddler decided to take off running through the children's clothing section of Younkers with his arms out. If you have ever been to Younkers you know that they have clothing from the floor up to adult eye level. So if a toddler were to run with his arms out (like mine did), his hands would hit the clothes at such an angle that they would literally fly up into the air as though the tasmanian devil were whirling under them. Since he ran from the front of the childrens section to the back and I was 7 months pregnant and unable to dodge the clothing racks to catch him quick enough, he literally left a trail of destruction behind him from the front to the back of the store. When I finally caught him at the back of the store I felt an anger I had rarely experienced before. The store clerk was standing smugly behind the desk giving me the dirtiest look. It was as if her eyes said, "You have no control of your child...failure, failure, failure!" And that look and that judgement is what fueled my anger. It wasn't what he did (although it was ridiculously naughty). It was that my insecurity was ripped wide open by the judgement of some woman whom I had never even spoken to. She simply got a snapshot of my life...and made a judgment.
Then there was the time that the UPS man dropped off a package and Everett was in the garage playing. THE GARAGE. When the UPS guy knocked, I didn't come to the door. I was pregnant and...let me just be frank...in the bathroom, unable to come to the door. Well this man decided that it was his civic duty to go discuss with my neighbors how neglectful of a parent I was for letting my child play in the garage unattended. Thankfully, one of those neighbors is one of my best friends and she stood up for me (the other one has wildly different parenting ideas than I do and fully agreed with the UPS man). But this man only saw snapshots. Snippets. He had no idea why I didn't come to the door. Perhaps he assumed I was taking a nap...or eating bon bons. But we all know what we do when we assume...right? (Hint: think about the spelling of the word).
And lastly...and this is the best example...recently, I took the boys to church by myself. Silas was asleep in the carseat, Noah and Landon beside me in the pew. The message was really good and I was very much into it. I have no idea how long I stared at our pastor before looking at the boys. It was a while because every parent knows that if your kids are being good and entertaining themselves, and you look at them...it ruins it every time. And they were being SO quiet...and not fighting...and it was just lovely. Until I looked at Landon. LANDON. My by the book...doesn't break rules or push the envelope kid. My kid who thinks way too much about what people think about him. Yes, I looked at that boy. He had taken a great big Jabba the Hut sticker out of Noah's sticker book and rolled it so that it looked like a joint. Not even a cigarette, but a joint...it was even slightly green (remember, Jabba). AND HE WAS SMOKING IT. In church. I looked at him and he took it out of his mouth (between his fingers like a real smoker) and gave me this awesome look that said, "Want one mom?" My mind raced, my face flushed...I didn't even know what to do. And then I remembered that I had conveniently chosen the seat in front of the 100 year old man who was a patriarch at the church...and he had a perfect view of Landon...of my kid who was pretending to smoke IN CHURCH. Probably one of the most conservative men in the church. Yep...he saw the whole thing, probably before I did. Snapshot.
Next time we are tempted to judge another mother for her parenting, or a kid for their ridiculous behavior, I encourage us to remember that we are seeing a snapshot. And judgements based on snapshots are not usually valid or correct. Contrary to what that store clerk said to me with her eyes...I am not a failure. And while that UPS driver believes I am a neglectful parent, I can assure you that I am not. And while it appears my oldest child has a fetish with smoking...I can pretty much stake my life on the fact that a real cigarette won't ever touch his lips (now Noah is a different story). What I am getting at is that we have to earn the right to speak into other people's lives. My mom can tell me I am doing something wrong in parenting my kids because she watches me and knows me and has earned that right. So have some of my friends. And my sisters. But so help me if that UPS driver were to report me to CPS based on that snapshot. That snippet of my life that he saw. But how many times have I judged? How many times have I written someone off in my mind rather than offered my hand to help? We judge, usually because it makes us feel better about the way we are choosing to do things. But I don't want to be that person. I want to be the person at the grocery store who smiles with knowing eyes at the mom whose child is screaming in the cart. Today at the restaurant my sister and I ate lunch, an older woman came up to our table. I was sure she was going to tell me my toddler was being too loud. He was playing with a toy snake at the table and his boy noises were a bit on the loud side and I kept trying to tell him to play quieter. But that woman...she didn't scold me or him. She told me how beautiful he was and how much she enjoyed watching him. I want to be like that woman. I want to extend grace. I want to leave a snapshot behind that stays with the people I come into contact with...and I want that snapshot to ease their burden and be like a balm to their soul.
Life is like a series of snapshots. What story are our pictures telling?