I’m finally done with school! I know it’s only been a few months, but it feels as if it’s been an eternity. I had expected to enjoy it as much as I did when I took some college classes a few years ago, but instead I found myself very discouraged with the whole process.
Don’t get me wrong, I love doing nails. I just wasn’t crazy about going to school for it.
The nail in the coffin came less than a week ago. Frustrated, tired, and more than a little overwhelmed, I said something I shouldn’t have, in front of someone who shouldn’t have heard it.
Now, I have no problem taking responsibility for my mistakes. I am so far less than perfect that usually I will not only take responsibility for my mistakes, but for everything else as well. The economy? I’m sure it’s my fault. That oil leak in the gulf? Feel free to flog me for it. It’s ok, I don’t mind.
The problem on this day was that a new instructor at the school, who was just as tired, frustrated, and overwhelmed as I was, came down on me like a ton of bricks. She said some things to me that she shouldn’t have said, and it took a chunk out of my already cratered self esteem.
That night, as I cried on John’s shoulder, I wondered why it seemed that no matter how good I was, I could never be good enough. Here I was, the top student in my class, a team player willing to help anyone and everyone out with just about any task, and no one seemed to care. Yet one slip of the tongue, and I was lumped in with the plebs. I wondered why I even bothered if no one was going to notice the good things I did.
Fast forward a few days…
I was driving into school yesterday for my last day on the salon floor. I really didn’t want to go. I was wishing in vain that I hadn’t missed that one day of school when I’d had bronchitis, so that my hours would have been completed the Saturday before. I was also desperately hoping the instructor who beat me down would have the day off, so I wouldn’t have to face her again.
Somehow, while I drove, my mind wandered to John’s dad who passed away last fall. I don’t know how, or why, but I started thinking about his memorial service…
Pop was an incredible guy, and it was no surprise that the church was packed with people who were there to remember him. The thing was though, there was no eulogy, no stories about how he was always making everyone feel good, no remarks about his amazing character. It was a service, with some bible readings, a sermon, and then it was over.
Afterwards, I felt as if it wasn’t fitting. We had lost a wonderful man. We should have been singing his praises, telling everyone about how he impacted our lives, and made the world a happier place. It just didn’t seem right that there was no mention in the service of what a good person he was.
When I asked John about it, he said it was what Pop had wanted.
Pop was a good man, who didn’t want recognition for his good deeds. He was good, just because that’s how he was.
So, even though he’s been gone from us for far too long already, it seems that Pop is not done impacting our lives…
Do I do good things because I truly want to help people, or am I good because I want people to think I’m something special? If my motivation is selfish, then am I actually doing anything commendable at all?
As I thought about it that morning, I realized that my brand of good, was not good enough.
I’m not perfect. It’s a fact I can accept without hesitation. From now on though, I will do my best to try to be good.
Thank you Pop, for one more positive thing you’ve given me. I love you, and miss you, more and more each day.
Hugs,
