Are Things Not Satisfactory?

Dearest Rachel –

There’s an old joke about a child who, for the first few years of his life, appeared to be completely mute, much to the consternation of his parents. They took him to doctors and specialists, who couldn’t find anything wrong with his vocal cords or his neural connections. Eventually, they gave up on trying to “cure” him (since there didn’t appear to be anything physically or mentally wrong with him), and let him grow up and do the sort of things all children do as they grew up.

This went on until his sixth birthday party, when he took a bite of his cake, turned to his parents and politely said, “Mother, this cake seems to be a little on the dry side.”

Understandably, his parents were shocked. “Son! You can talk!”

“Well, of course I can,” he responded, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“But… but you’ve never said a word before! What happened?”

“Well…” the boy said, chewing on his cake thoughtfully, “up until now, everything has been quite satisfactory.”

***

Yes, it’s not the funniest anecdote in the world, but it’s always left an impression on me (granted, it might be that I’d always heard it told as if the family were Germans, and his nonchalant reply, complete with an Einsteinian accent, conveyed the stereotypical obsession with efficiency; why talk when it isn’t necessary to?), perhaps because I can relate to both the parents and the child in the story. I don’t tend to address other people unless I need their help to resolve a situation, and others generally keep their distance from me in turn barring a similar cause.

I was thinking about this while I was working the audio-visual booth this morning, and how I don’t like to be approached while I’m in there. Let’s face it; life has changed since those days when you would stop by to drop off breakfast and steal a kiss in payment. These days, if someone shows up behind me while I’m at my post, I quite naturally assume that something is wrong that needs correcting.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s nice to be needed, but when that seems to be the only reason anyone speaks to you, it loses its luster after a while. And when it’s to correct something – especially something I’ve done (since, like everyone else on earth, I don’t like having to admit that I’ve screwed something up, let alone fix it, which is always more difficult than it was to break it in the first place), it’s that much less appealing to have to deal with. It’s not always the case, but as it’s far more often so than not, I would just as soon not have to deal with visitors while I’m on duty. Being left completely alone means that everything is going well – that things are “satisfactory” – for all others concerned.

Of course, the solitude gets to one after a while. While I’m okay with that while “on the job,” it’s not as enjoyable when I’m done with my work and on my own. To be sure, you might find this rather amusing, as you and I (and Daniel) would spend so many Sunday afternoons in companionable silence as we watched this or that program, either on television, tape, video or YouTube (in that chronological progression); why would I find the stillness to be so oppressive? But it’s the companionability of the silence that made it comfortable back then; there’s a lot less of that these days.

However, for me to reach out to someone else, I feel as though I’m the one asking them for assistance. Given that there are people I’d rather not hear from (every time I see a notification from “Dara,” for instance, I can’t help thinking, “oh no, what does she want to hear from me now?”), I don’t want to be ‘that person’ in someone else’s life. If I don’t enjoy being so approached, then it’s only natural to conclude that whoever I might approach would also prefer not to… and so I don’t bother. Best not to upset the balance of things, as long as everyone else seems to be content.

***

I wonder if these sort of things ever cross the mind of God. So many of us – including myself, I’m ashamed to admit – rarely speak to Him unless something is going “wrong” (at least from our perspective), and we want Him to intervene and “fix” things for us. Obviously, He already knows what we will ask before we do, so it isn’t as if He thinks “what is it this time?” It’s not even like He can express shock that we’re finally uttering our first words to Him. But I can’t help wondering if it bothers Him when we only come to Him in times of need.

I guess the thing I need to work on is to reach out to Him even if everything is perfectly satisfactory; in fact, I should probably take the time to thank Him for that very fact. It’s harder to do so with Him than a fellow human who you can see and interact with, thought. Although… here I am, writing to you, so this ought to be easier for me than most people.

So with that having been said, maybe I should just go do that right now. In the meantime, honey, just keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.