I messed up today. I hit a car. With my car.
If you are one of the lucky few, there was some reason you were awake this morning when it as cold as when Luke had to climb inside of a tauntaun to stay alive (Episode V (Star Wars, people… duh)). My roommate and I were headed towards my car to start uncovering it from the layers of permafrost when we saw a classmate was already halfway done getting his car’s interior to an above-freezing temperature. It was an easy decision to mooch off of his cold hard work, so the only option was to pile inside his Freezer Nissan and head to class. Easy enough. But of course, I had to go screw everything up.
Last night I was in a race back to the dorm with my roommates (they didn’t know it was a race, but it was). There were no normal parking spots open except for the “10-Minute” parking and I knew only that spot would win me the race, and I wasn’t going to lose to someone who wasn’t even trying. Once I had pulled in, I decided to bend the rules a bit and leave my car for more then 10 minutes… Leaving it until my 7:45 class wasn’t a big deal – I mean, 10 hours isn’t that much over 10 minutes, it should be no problem! The RD of our dorm is currently on vacation, so to me, that sounds like the ideal time to leave my car where it shouldn’t be parked. No parents, no rules (I know, I know – I’m 20 years old and should act my age). The same logic works for Resident Directors and their residents. Last time, we had a trampoline party!
This morning, as I was preparing my body for Antarctic weather patterns, I noticed someone had left me a message on my hood. Not a typical handwritten note, or even a typed monologue. Instead, someone left their message loud and clear and more creatively than I anticipated – with a large “10″ in fallen leaves. Yep, I know what that means. After years of trying to pick up on subtle clues and hints from my gracious family, I realized that sometimes, you should listen when someone politely suggests something. Even if it’s spelled in leaves.
In this case, listening meant braving the frostbite conditions of my car and moving it as quickly as possible. The running dialogue in my head was as follows: “No big deal. Even though it is covered in more ice than a 7-11 drink station, I can do this. I’ll keep my door open and make sure I clear the bike rack before turning the wheel, and here we go!” And we went. As soon as I deemed myself safe from ending the life of a few bikes a few years short, I turned my wheel, only to scrape to a stop. “Oh crap”. Never did it cross my mind that another car was (OF COURSE) parked next to me. The result was approximately 18 inches of baby blue paint strategically located on a red Toyota Camry.
I had never touched another car with my car, except for that time it was really dark and I backed into an RV when I was 16. Or that time I backed into a huge rock. Or into a ditch. Again, all 16. Car-on-car contact was a new one for me, and instantly I felt awful. I threw it into drive, pulled forward, then ever-so-cautiously backed out, and parked picture-perfectly into an open spot. Of course, my friends saw the whole thing. Of course, they were as shocked as I was. And of course, they were not very impressed with my backwards driving skills. My weakness had been exposed!
(A note was left on the hood of the car expressing my shortcomings and regrets along with my phone number and a promise to remedy the issue. At 6:10 PM, the car has moved, the note taken, and no contact has been made. Uh oh. I have no idea who drives that car!)
I can probably tell what you’re thinking. “Oh wow, you scraped a car no worse than you could have done with a garden rake. It wasn’t even two feet long. There was no structural damage. It’s no problem.” It is a problem, though. To me, it’s the principle. I had gotten a little too full of myself in multiple sectors of my life and it climaxed in the mutilation of a sweet red paint job. I had assumed the posture of thinking I could get away with anything – I mean, you know who I am, right? That thought alone is enough to make me sick, and if nothing else, take this from this post – I wish to never think like that again, and to all that I hurt by believing that, I am sorry. My pride has never been more apparent than in this moment.
Leadership positions are readily available. Opportunities open up when all doors had been previously locked shut. No is typically not an answer. This does not and should not make me better or more valuable or more crucial than any other human. As Kid President said on his list of “20 Things We Should Say More Often”, and I paraphrase, “I like you as person who is a human being and will treat you like that because if I didn’t it would make everything bad and that’s what lots of people do and that’s lame,” (number four, check it out for yourself here!). Seriously though. Kid President is the man. His reminder was a precursor to what would happen but its simplicity was so beautiful – treat people like they are people or you’re lame. Word.
I am convicted and convinced that I have continually treated people like they are less important than me. In the midst of status-defining elements: titles, friendships, relationships, jobs, responsibilities, etc., humbleness is a necessary virtue. There is no excuse for those who do not maintain that perspective in leadership – because honestly, if I wasn’t the campus ministries coordinator at NNU, someone else would do the job. I am replaceable and titles are temporal; but people and relationships are a few of the most permanent things we will get to experience. Time and time again I have forgotten the meaning of leadership – to help people do better at being them – and have forgotten how to follow. Following a system, such as rules put in place to keep people from parking in the optimum spot for too long, is intended to build character and help society maintain flow. By blatantly ignoring the rules in place (as slight as it may have been), I turned my back on myself. I will not become a better me by placing myself ahead of people.
All this being said, this generalization is no blanket system. This post was never intended to turn you into an automaton who can follow the letter of the law without fail. Instead, this post was to challenge you to look beyond yourself for a second – and realize that you are not the most important part of life. Although you may think I am this awesome gift to everyone around me, the truth is, it doesn’t matter. At the root of it all, people don’t watch you or care about you nearly as much as you think they do. It’s when we come to this realization that we can fully give of ourselves and all that we are. We can give ourselves up to a greater cause and higher Power that will never fail us or forsake us. Nestled in the middle of the Beatitudes, Jesus declares that those who are blessed are the meek, not the pompous and self-righteous. Those stuck in the mindset of self-over-others are not the benefactors of the inheritance of the earth; that is left for the humble.
A simple swapping of paint is all it takes to snap someone back to reality. A swapping of stories may be what it takes to reconcile a relationship. A swapping of lives is what it takes to live in community. I hope you find freedom in telling your story and remembering that all people have value while you exchange life as if it’s an renewable commodity. When we live to preserve our life, we lose it the fastest. As much as I would like to believe it, I am no more important than the last person I made eye contact with or awkwardly greeted on the sidewalk as I hurried to my next oh-so-important appointment.
The “10″ left on my car was a blessing in disguise. For me to realize this, I had to mess up. I hit a car. With my car.
-Shaun, The Life Authentic
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