A few weeks ago, corps members in my region of the Valley and myself were invited to a local couple’s home for a quaint networking event. As soon as we arrived, they welcomed us into our home and insisted we explore it as if it were our own. We looked awkwardly at each other and started shifting from side to side, talking about what to talk about with our hosts. Recognizing our slight discomfort, Mr. Lopez, one of the hosts, invited us to the garage, where (good) wine and whiskey were set out on a table for us.
We pretended that it was normal for us to drink out of crystal wine classes (as opposed to plastic cups better suited for small children) and as we sipped, we stirred and started conversations with the Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, and the other guests. At one point in the evening, Mr. Lopez spoke, praising Teach For America and its efforts in the Rio Grande Valley. After he spoke, my roommate, Jade, spoke. Her speech was simple, highlighting people who made enduring change by doing simple, loving, things each day. The evening ended and I felt inspired. Inspired by the kindness of our hosts, inspired by the words of the speakers, and inspired that I was able to partake in the inherent connectivity between people.
Last night, Jess (the other 8th grade reading teacher, my dear friend) and I went out to eat as a last ditch effort to calm our nerves before our students took their final standardized test today. Before the appetizer came, we had already finished one drink and had covered conversational topics ranging from work to romance. As nerves turned into giggles, we noticed two familiar faces through the tinted glass of the door, Mr. and Mrs. Lopez.
The two of them sat in the booth behind us, helloing as they passed us. Per my tendency to suck down liquid as if I were living in a dessert, I needed to use the restroom before our food arrived at our table. With as much grace as a person with a walking boot can manage, I strolled (quickly) to the bathroom. On my way back, Mrs. Lopez called me over to her. Jess joined me, and the two of us stood at the end of their booth as they told us about their granddaughter, who had just been accepted to all ten colleges she applied for. With pride, that only grandparents can exalt, they asked us, “How would you decide what college to go?” We shared words of (24-year old) wisdom, which led to more questions, which led to a relatively lengthy conversation, enjoyably lengthy.
Our food arrived and Mrs. Lopez lovingly dismissed us to our table. The two of them left as Jess and I spooked Mexican rice into our mouths. As they passed our table, they wished our students good luck. Jess and I looked at each other, mirroring each other’s expressions, and remarked reflectively, “they are so sweet.”
Moments after Mr. and Mrs. Lopez exited through the same tinted glass door we saw them through earlier, our server came to our table.
“That man paid for your meal.”
Jess and I had two drinks each, an appetizer, and we each had an entrée. I’m assuming our bill was near forty dollars. I’ll never know for certain, though, because without warning, without self-commending, Mr. and Mrs. Lopez paid for our meal. I was reminded of Jade’s speech, small things, mini acts, create enduring change.
This semester alone, I’ve had three near strangers buy me lunch, three mini acts that have induced smiles on my face, relief to my checking account, spirit to my soul.
Mr. and Mrs. Lopez reminded me that loving is little things. Things like inviting guests over to your home, paying for someone’s meal without letting them know, valuing the opinion of someone.
I’m most humbled by all the mini acts afforded me in life. These small gestures have fused to create an image of humanity that is beautiful, perhaps even more beautiful than the love that drives them.
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