I'm not
sure how we qualified for this apartment; Steve and I are neither young enough nor
pretty enough to live in our building. The fire alarm went off the other night
and we all gathered downstairs in the lobby, spilling out into the circle
drive. Never in my life have I seen such
a concentration of so many physically gorgeous men and women (except in Newport Beach, CA)!
Dressed to the nines in designer duds, they should be living inside the pages
of Vogue. But they're not all beautiful people.
My perception
of beautiful people changed drastically after our move.
While I'm an
ardent believer of "pretty is as pretty does", I guess I hadn't seen it played
out with such contrast until we moved downtown. Like many young people in our
society today, my neighbors rarely say please, thank you, or pardon me. They
drop their candy wrappers in the hall; they leave their cups by the pool; and,
oblivious to those around them, they stand and stall, expecting others to move
around them. Contrast these well-heeled, well-educated young adults with our
city's homeless.
Out of the
700 people we serve during lunch, I estimate that only a handful have not
repeatedly said thank you and please, and then extended another note of
appreciation for our volunteer service. As I watch nearly a quarter of them bow
their heads to say their own personal grace as they give thanks for the tuna
sandwich sitting before them, I am as star-struck by these beautiful homeless people
as I am dumbfounded by our so-called beautiful society.
How do we
teach gratitude when we have had so much?
How do we
teach grace when we rarely extend it ourselves?
How do we
teach the power of an apology when we're never wrong? And,
How do we
teach the concept of beauty when, in realty, we have forgotten what it looks
like?
I think
about all the beautiful people I have encountered over the past eight weeks. What
do I remember about the six-foot-tall beauty on the elevator? That she was
carrying a Stanley Korshak bag with three pairs of designer shoes (THREE!) and never
looked up from her BlackBerry. I think she might have been blonde - but other
than that, I can't tell you a thing about her.
On the
other hand, I remember fondly the frail little 70-something woman who dined
with us two months ago at The Bridge. She wore a hand-me down suit and nylons,
and I remember that she smelled like rose water. I remember that she was drop-dead
gorgeous as she bowed her head to pray. And that later, she winked at me when she
thanked me sweetly for pouring her another glass of water - all with the voice
of an angel and the grace of Jackie O.
When you
think of the beautiful people you've encountered over the past few weeks - what
do you remember? And what do you think others remember about you?
This past
Sunday, as I reached for a gentleman's glass, I asked him, "How are you,
today?" It was 26 degrees outside, he wore a thin coat, and his worldly
belongings sat in a grocery bag at his feet, but he answered me with a smile the
size of Texas
and the enthusiasm of a cheerleader, "Ma'am,
I'm blessed."
As we celebrate
this Holy season, may others be blessed by your
beauty that resonates from your grace and gratitude. And throughout the New
Year may God bless us all with the gorgeous ones to remind us that pretty is as pretty does.
Heading to
the shelter for my beauty tips,
Ellen
Posted by Ellen on December 22, 2008 8:39 PM
| Category: A City View
