On Stamp Collecting
Don't save stamps.
Don't get me wrong: I used to collect stamps. As a teenager, I collected Olympic stamps. Then I collected stamps with pictures of exotic fruit. Finally, I gave up; my kids had destroyed my stamps, and giving up was a better option than trying to save them.
There's another kind of stamp saving, too. Years ago, my friend Mike* taught me about holding grudges and refusing to forgive. I was better friends with his wife, Ellen*, who was an overwhelmed mom of five at the same time I was an overwhelmed mom of four. I saw her at least once a week, and we commiserated and laughed about the challenges of being a mom. It was pretty apparent that she felt that her husband wasn't supportive, and I understood her situation. Being a mom of many young kids is hard, isolating, and just draining. She wanted to go out and play like her husband did, golfing with friends and finding time for himself. She resented being at home ALL of the time.
One day, I passed Mike in the hallway, and after saying hello I (mostly) jokingly said, "You've gotta help Ellen more". I said it with a big smile, and he replied with a smile and and an "I know". We went on our way, and Jared and I continued our friendshps with each of them.
Fast forward a few years. We weren't in close contact with our friends anymore, having been separated by circumstances if not by choice. We heard that they were divorcing. We heard that he'd had an affair. We heard so much, and our hearts broke. Finally, I met Ellen for lunch. She was unmarried and pregnant with a sixth child-- one who wouldn't share her last name. She was trying to hold her head high and move forward bravely, doing the best she could in her circumstances. She had regrets and she was angry and she was broken, but she was open and honest, and I learned a lot from her while we ate.
A while later, we saw her husband. He had many regrets. He was conflicted. Torn. Missing his children. We talked, and he said, "Ellen collected stamps". I was puzzled; I wasn't familiar with this phrase. Then, I got it: She held grudges. She didn't forgive. She kept him in her debt, forever adding more to the "he owes me" column. I began internalizing an important lesson that day, one I'm still trying to perfect: No one owes us anything, so why keep track? Why save stamps? When we are unwilling to forgive, we harden our hearts and blind ourselves to the beauty of those around us. We make our lives harder than necessary. If we collect stamps at all, let it be the kind that mail letters, not the ones that stick to our souls like the glue of self-pity. Let us forgive and move forward.
Don't get me wrong: I used to collect stamps. As a teenager, I collected Olympic stamps. Then I collected stamps with pictures of exotic fruit. Finally, I gave up; my kids had destroyed my stamps, and giving up was a better option than trying to save them.
There's another kind of stamp saving, too. Years ago, my friend Mike* taught me about holding grudges and refusing to forgive. I was better friends with his wife, Ellen*, who was an overwhelmed mom of five at the same time I was an overwhelmed mom of four. I saw her at least once a week, and we commiserated and laughed about the challenges of being a mom. It was pretty apparent that she felt that her husband wasn't supportive, and I understood her situation. Being a mom of many young kids is hard, isolating, and just draining. She wanted to go out and play like her husband did, golfing with friends and finding time for himself. She resented being at home ALL of the time.
One day, I passed Mike in the hallway, and after saying hello I (mostly) jokingly said, "You've gotta help Ellen more". I said it with a big smile, and he replied with a smile and and an "I know". We went on our way, and Jared and I continued our friendshps with each of them.
Fast forward a few years. We weren't in close contact with our friends anymore, having been separated by circumstances if not by choice. We heard that they were divorcing. We heard that he'd had an affair. We heard so much, and our hearts broke. Finally, I met Ellen for lunch. She was unmarried and pregnant with a sixth child-- one who wouldn't share her last name. She was trying to hold her head high and move forward bravely, doing the best she could in her circumstances. She had regrets and she was angry and she was broken, but she was open and honest, and I learned a lot from her while we ate.
A while later, we saw her husband. He had many regrets. He was conflicted. Torn. Missing his children. We talked, and he said, "Ellen collected stamps". I was puzzled; I wasn't familiar with this phrase. Then, I got it: She held grudges. She didn't forgive. She kept him in her debt, forever adding more to the "he owes me" column. I began internalizing an important lesson that day, one I'm still trying to perfect: No one owes us anything, so why keep track? Why save stamps? When we are unwilling to forgive, we harden our hearts and blind ourselves to the beauty of those around us. We make our lives harder than necessary. If we collect stamps at all, let it be the kind that mail letters, not the ones that stick to our souls like the glue of self-pity. Let us forgive and move forward.
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