What things make you think you’re a “weirdo” or a “goofball”? What if those traits are actually talents and superpowers? Or even one of your most divine gifts to share with the world?
I unexpectedly met the guy who was plowing the snow from my mother’s driveway Sunday. He knocked on the door while I was visiting, and my mom invited him in.
Now, this guy is a classic rural Mainer. I’d never met him before, but as he talked to us (my brother was there, too), it turned out we all knew a few of the same people. That’s not surprising — it’s a small town, and a good number of its residents have lived there for decades, if not generations.
He had known my father, and spoke of him with great appreciation. My dad apparently had done him the health-preserving favor of writing to the state to be sure they’d cover the cost of the removal of his teeth decades ago, and had been his wife’s doctor.
Plow-guy had startled at my resemblance to my dad: “Jeez, I almost thought I was seeing a ghost!” My mother mentioned it’s been 15-and-a-half years since my dad died, and that she feels he’s still with her.
The plow-guy put his hand on his torso, and spoke with deep sincerity. “We keep them in here. All the good times we had with them. We keep them with us in here… I dunno, I’m a weirdo.”
I said that didn’t make him weird, and agreed that we keep people alive in our hearts.
The conversation rambled. Plow guy told the story of his teeth two or three times. It was clear (by scent as well as by the circularity of the conversation) that his friendly chattiness was partly fueled by beer.
At some point, he brought up the name of someone he worked for — someone we know — and mentioned that the man’s wife had died by suicide some years back. That, we had not known.
“I keep tellin’ him, ‘It wasn’t your fault! You gotta focus on all the good times you two had together.’ But he feels so guilty. I’ve lost people. But I try to think about the good times we had. I think about all the good stuff. It keeps ’em with you. You keep ’em right **here.** …I’m a weirdo. I’m a goofball.”
Every time plow-guy spoke in this way, despite his self-deprecation and chatty inebriation, I couldn’t help but feel like he was letting us see a current of genuine spirituality.
Likely he would not have called it that. I get the feeling maybe he’s been mocked for it. Or at the very least, someone in his upbringing or in the crowd he hangs with has made him doubt it and downplay it, and feel the need to deflect it as soon as he shows it.
Yet not everyone is able to swing their attention away from grief and guilt and focus instead on memories of the good times. Maybe plow-guy struggles with it, too, more than he lets on.
Either way, I’d say it’s a gift and a superpower, even if he isn’t always able to offer it to the world without the help of several beers (and who knows — maybe he can and does regularly).
I like to think that the more we all affirm those who live from the heart, and hold open the space for that divine spark of connection to light others up, the better this world will be.
So, think about it a moment:
What if some of your “weirdo” traits are actually among your brightest gifts to those you connect with?
What are they?
And how can you be bolder about letting them show? How can you strengthen those muscles of heart and spirit, and who can help you hold open that space?
With love,
Amanda
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