Chilled crackers and warm water.

I work in an unpredictable place that constantly teaches me what I most need to learn. The lessons are not found in our noble mission, the state occasions, but in the irregular whispers that awaken me from routine.

This week it happened when our residents prepared for a Board meeting by supplying drinks, cheese and crackers on a table off to the side. We gave specific instructions of what was needed, and found that the entire tray had been kept in the refrigerator, including the crackers, and that the waters had not. Those of us responsible for the meeting were frustrated and a bit embarrassed, but in hindsight the moment was an important reminder of who we really are as a community, and the moment’s lesson applies far beyond my workplace.

The chilled crackers and warm water were reminders of life’s unrelenting unpredictability. They were also a call to release my grasp and open my hand to what life offers. In this case, crackers and water were an imperfect result from sincere hearts. Once seen as such, I accepted them like a parent receiving a child’s drawing. 

I have always appreciated a great moment. Fortunately, I grew up surrounded by many of them and was always quick to notice and point out something not to forget. As I grew up, I tried to create them for my friends, girlfriends, wife, and children. What began as a sincere appreciation for the wonders of life became an obsession of control. Everything had to be just so. Many times I pulled it off, but usually I was wound so tight I couldn’t enjoy the moment. When things did not go according to plan, the spiral down to the depths of what people in recovery call a “poo poo pity party” was sift and direct.

There are plenty of chilled crackers and warm water in my life:

* Arriving at a fancy dinner and climbing out of the car all dressed up, only to show my parents I was unable to find my shoes and thought coming without any shoes was better than confessing.

* Teaching my first class as a world-renowned school in white tie and tails only to see my fly unzipped.

* Making my parents a Christmas cracker-holder and incorrectly spelling Christmas.

* Arriving at a high school party, trying to look like I belonged, only to have someone point out the price tag still attached to my shirt.

The list if far longer than I would like, but accepting the moments listed is as freeing as it is humorous. Those moments are where true life is found. Standing at a graduation party, with parents dressed in their summer finest,  I wanted to share this important truth, but someone pointed out that, despite my Vinyard Vines shorts and tasseled loafers, I had something stuck in my teeth.