Life By The Slice, The column - observations on life, relationships and humanity - sometimes humorous, sometimes serious, always from the heart.

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RELEASED SEPTEMBER 1, 2003

Is what you see what you get?

My husband parked the car on the street, instead of in the church parking lot, which this morning, contained only one small truck with heavily tinted windows. Since we were early, I stayed in the car to finish my caffeine IV. I rolled my window down and was assaulted with a bone-jarring, teeth-rattling fwoomp, fwoomp, bah-boom of a car stereo.

I looked around to find a recipient for my scowl, when the driver of the lone truck opened his door to reveal himself as the culprit. What had been, up to then, simply reverberations in the earth's crust, now turned into what can only be described as hell's fury unleashed.

The young man appeared to be an upstanding, nicely dressed, normal looking person. Normal in that he wasn't sporting horns or a tail, so imagine my quandary as I tried to understand why, just 20 feet away from the church, amongst elderly people now arriving by the carload, he would think it okay to share his choice of music with the neighborhood.

It's one thing for music to be overly loud. It's entirely another when the lyrics contain expletives of an extremely graphic nature that are repeated every other word. I glanced around to make sure that I wasn't in some kind of Twilight Zone episode gone awry. I scanned the people walking by and saw my own distaste reflected on their faces.

I looked back at the young man, still messing in his toolbox and cocked my head, just like my dog does when it doesn't understand why I grab a cola instead of the Alpo can from the refrigerator.

He appeared to be totally unaware of the effect his musical taste had on those around him. I thought to myself, surely this is some sort of offensive joke.

Nope. He finished his business, shut down the engine, pocketed his keys, and headed for the building.

I disconnected my IV and headed there myself, only to bump into someone I hadn't seen in about three years. He greeted me warmly and entered the sanctuary while I stood in the foyer, my mouth hanging open.

There went my ex-neighbor that we had lived beside for almost a year. The same neighbor who, when we tried to sell our house to a family from India, took it upon himself to point out to them all the foundation problems he felt our home had. This information cost us hundreds of dollars to disprove. It still rankled.

All this and church hadn't even begun.

I sat growing ever more uncomfortable through the service, but it wasn't because of the wooden pew. It had more to do with my reactions to the two incidents prior and our minister's message about how we human beings are meant to be expressions of love. About how through love, great things occur. My reaction to the morning encounters had been anything but loving.

What really drove it home was the children's chat portion of the service. The youth minister gave the kids a mirror and asked them what they saw. Aside from the expected responses, the message was this: What we see often depends on what we're looking for, both in ourselves and in others.

Ouch.

What was I looking for in those two pre-church incidents? Someone I could dislike? Someone I could judge or blame?

Then I thought about what it was I wanted to see in myself when I looked and the minister's message about being an expression of love surely didn't include being judgmental or angry.

After the service I made it a point to stop and let him know how much I enjoyed his sermon and that I found it very relevant. His response?

"You are kind."

Not "Thank you," or "Thanks," but "You are kind."

"Wait a minute -- you must have me confused with someone else," I wanted to argue, but instead I made my exit, mumbling "Okay, okay, I GET it."

My husband leaned down and asked me what it was I got, exactly. I looked up at him and smiled "The message. I got the message."