not drawn and quartered

It feels like a lot of relationshippy things happened yesterday but I didn't feel like I was being torn in four separate directions.

To mirror yesterday, let's do a small amount of follow-up.

(1) S___ was in a better mood and I did get to serve him.  He really doesn't talk much.  Someone from Tims was telling me last week how amazed she was to hear from his coworker that he actually does speak.  Very tight-lipped fellow.
I had twelve packs of his cigarettes sitting on the counter by the time he arrived because that kind of overkill always seems to amuse him.  If I'm standing at the counter and waiting, I build towers out of them but because I was working on something else away from the counter, they just sat in two rows, partially hidden.

"Good morning!"

"Hey."

I look to my rows and deliberate over which pack to select.  (At first I was just being silly but then I actually had a hard time choosing from twelve identical things, haha!)

"..Just one," he says, and I note the levity in his tone which has a definite trace of "you're ridiculous" to it but he's fighting a smile which is good enough for me.

Gleaning some bravery from his smirk, I inquire, "Is your name really spelled like that?" in the same way I always deliver opening questions to him: too quietly and completely unaware of just how too quietly.

He leans in like he always does and asks me to repeat.  I do and he tells me, "no," shaking his head and leaning back.

I relax a little and over-explain how I thought I was going crazy having now seen a different spelling on his uniform than I was used to.  I attach people (every person I know) very intimately to their names (real, fake and modified) and if you're not who I thought you were, it causes problems.  I'm OK to correct; I just needed to know!

He tells me that the company that makes their uniforms spelled it wrong and I say, emphatically dropping my hands that were about to give him two toonies, four pennies and a five-dollar bill, "That's terrible!" Names are so important and using names correctly and intentionally is SUCH a high value for me.  He seems a little surprised that I care at all or noticed or am indignant on his behalf.  But he adjusts and continues to explain how annoyed he is.  I'm happy to see him more animated and to see a tiny glimpse of his unguarded self.

He came back (out of nowhere!) maybe ten minutes later to buy something else he'd forgotten and he told me about how L, who works at Tims, had been chirping him about a customer that apparently was interested in him.  He told me that I should do some sleuthing on his behalf regarding this mystery woman because L wasn't being very descriptive or helpful.  I agreed easily enough, incredibly relieved she hadn't been chirping him about me.  He only acted out how one might sleuth, trailing off after, "You should..." and looked as uncomfortable as he usually does when he realises he's put more than one complete sentence together in conversation with me.  (He gets this look on his face like he realises he's just wandered onto stage during a performance and needs to somehow make it look like he's supposed to be there.)  Guessing his charades clues, I offer to "spy" for him and figure it out.  I agreed that L wasn't being very helpful.  It was a weird conversation but if he's going to talk to me I need to find an open way to respond.

This is how I was #friendzoned. But after the small bruise on my ego healed I was glad.  It's better to be friendzoned than to be a slut, really.  That's...the whole story.  Pardon my language.



(3) Tuesday's conversation with Miserable S____ was nothing spectacular.  I hadn't been anticipating our interaction much and didn't have anything lined up to say or ask.  I happen to exit the loo at the same time he happens to be headed back to the checkout so he asked his habitual "what's happ'nin'?" over the top of the aisle as we walked in tandem.  I barely answer because I know the question is meaningless and that he won't answer if I reciprocate.  (Note to self: find a way to translate.)

He then immediately asks if I had figured out how manual transmission works; if I had gone to the website he had recommended.  I sheepishly tell him I hadn't found the vid because I'd forgotten to look for it til six minutes before I'd needed to leave for work which he understood.  He did his stuff and I packed up and then waited for him by the door. I wanted him to verify that was looking in the right area.  (Terminology has really been a bane during this process.) I walked him to his truck and showed him the site on my phone. He confirmed that yes, I was looking in the right spot.  Last thing he says before the door shuts and I walk away is, "do your homework."

OK, sure, S____.  I'll learn about manual transmission so I have something to talk to you about.  Sure, I'll spend time online trying to understand things that absolutely don't come naturally to me and that I have walked away from about six times already.  Sure, I will try to come up with questions and try to understand your explanations.  You don't talk about much substantial but you will talk about machines.


(4) I made sure to carve out time to hang out with Jesus Tuesday after work.  It was actually after dinner which kinda made it even nicer.  It was like a special date.  We talked about a lot of things and I heard Matthew 26:42 properly for the first time and it was really a significant epiphany.

"He went away a second time and prayed, 'My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done'."

I have been thinking that Jesus just wanted to abort the whole mission; that He wanted to be excused and then the fact that He went through with it meant He had been pushed or coerced and was reluctant.  It never seemed to fit with what I know of Him, His character, His love so I essentially stuck a pin in it, hoping to understand better in the future and trusting that He is unequivocally good and that independent of my comprehension.

I think the problem stemmed from being most familiar with verse 39: "Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, 'My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.  Yet not as I will, but as you will'."  Anyways, what I grasped was that He still wanted the cup to be emptied but He didn't want to go to the cross.  Can I blame Him???

Can anyone blame Him?  It certainly makes more sense that a man would dread being abused and cruelly beaten then violently murdered and that if there were a way he could avoid it he would seize it happily.  Yeah, I get it.  I suppose, being omniscient, Jesus was speaking rhetorically in a way or just expressing His distress.  I get it.  It's huge.

Later, I listened to a sermon called "Missional in Philadelphia" and I decided to watch the video as well; to pay full attention, to take notes as appropriate and to expect to learn something.  (When did I decide there was any other way to listen to a sermon?)  I learned many wonderful things and would like to review my notes in the immediate future to make sure it's sinking in.  I also was convicted about prayer.  I shouldn't go into too much detail but I need to make a choice to change how I do it.  Last night before bed I chose to sit and chat with Jesus, my bestie, about all the things on my heart and in my head.  It was a newvolutionary (new + revolutionary) experience not because of an emotional high or big answers but because I was exercising my will to maintain focus and I was speaking with Him in faith of the relationship I know we should have, not the one I feel like we have.

Good.


[There was a non-mirrored relationshippy part of my Tuesday that I'll have to put into its own post.]