Before meeting my husband, Chris, I was not in the habit of initiating “hello’s”, other than the necessary ones when answering the phone. Interestingly enough, while working on my writing for this month, I learned that “hello” became part of our everyday language in the late 1800’s for exactly that purpose – Thomas Edison proposed the greeting as the standard for initiating a telephone exchange. So popular did “hello” become, that early telephone operators were referred to as “hello girls.” This is one of the things I love most about history – the quirky, random facts you learn that tell the story about everyday things you’ve just assumed always were.
Speaking of history, as I said at the beginning, I was not always a hello kind of girl. I can remember as a little girl, when people would say hello to me, I would often hide behind my mom. While I stopped literally hiding as I grew older, I often found ways to avoid having to talk with anyone other than the few, trusted people I deemed safe. As a result, the story that unfolded one fall day, 31 years ago, in the parking lot at Calvin College, has always been evidence to me of some kind of divine intervention.
I walked out of my dorm that afternoon, headed down the sidewalk to the parking lot where I was to meet my dad. My car wouldn’t start, so I’d called home for help, grateful that my parents lived only a few miles down the road. As the minutes passed, I grew tired of waiting and sat down on the curb. I began to wonder if my dad forgot, and started anxiously running scenarios through my mind for how I would get to work without a car. Distracted by my thoughts, I didn’t notice a car pull up in front of me until I heard, “Hello? I’m wondering if you could tell me where I could find a student directory? I’m looking for a friend of mine who transferred here.” I looked up to find that the voice belonged to the driver of a little Pontiac Sunbird – a cute driver – and he was talking to me! He seemed harmless and friendly enough, so I gave him directions to the lobby desk in my dorm.
Fifteen minutes later, I was still sitting on the curb when he returned. Some brave part of me decided in that moment to risk being a hello kind of girl. I caught his gaze. “Did you find your friend?” “No, I guess he must have changed his mind, because he isn’t listed as a student.” “Oh, that’s too bad.” Awkward pause. Crap! What else do I say? If I don’t think of something quick, he’ll leave. Wait, why am I even thinking about talking to him? He’s a total stranger! But he’s also very friendly, and appears interested…what should I do? The anxious chatter inside my head effectively shut down my ability to speak again, until he stepped forward and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Chris Stark. I go to Grand Rapids Baptist College just up the road. What’s your name?” And so it began.
Looking back on that day, I think something in Chris saw and called out the hello kind of girl who was really in me all along. I was different with him. I began to take risks and speak up in ways I never would have dared before. As we married and moved around the country, I got a lot of practice saying hello to people I didn’t know, hoping each time for a welcoming face, a potential friend. At some point over the next several years, that risk-taking girl got lost under the weight of disappointment, betrayal and loss. I was terrified to realize that the man I had said hello to with such certainty had become someone I didn’t know, and didn’t particularly like. During a marriage intensive that felt like our last hope, our counselor named the madness Chris recognized in me when we first met, and the wildness I recognized in him. He called us back to what each of us knew, at the deepest soul level…and yet, didn’t know that we knew. Or had perhaps forgotten that we knew. And in our session that day, we actually said hello to each other, because in some strange sense, we were just meeting.
I believe there is something mysterious that happens when a connection is made between two people – something that allows each to be more fully who they were created to be.
We need the reflection of another, mirroring back to us what is true, and good, and lovely. While this has been true in my marriage relationship, it has also been true with others – even, at times, complete strangers. When I welcome another with a warm hello, holding their gaze and speaking kindness with my eyes and my smile, I believe each of us sees something of our truest selves reflected in the other’s face. In those moments of connection, we bear witness to the goodness of our Creator, goodness he planted deep in our hearts. When I see that reflection in someone’s eyes, or feel that reality in my own heart, I want to step out in all my hello kind of girl glory, eager to continue the echo of Divine love.
Janet Stark is a woman learning to bless her depth and sensitivity. She is grateful for the deep love she shares with her husband, Chris and their kids and grandkids. Janet loves curling up with a good book, trying new recipes on her friends and family, and enjoying long conversations with friends over a cup of really good coffee. She is a life-long lover of words and writes about her experiences here.
Yes and thank you. Thank you for sharing the reality of heartache and disillusionment and the hope of a new hello. I often have to go back to those teenage days before the walls grew tall and thick to remember that in my now-husband-of-25-years-then-boyfriend’s eyes I saw laughter and kindness and delight. It’s still there if I choose to see, and with the help of our counselor we will continue to discover the deep-down us that is actually pretty awesome. You are pretty awesome. Blessings.
Julie, thank you. As I read you words again, I thought to myself how I hope to meet you someday, because it feels like we connect in numerous places in our stories. I grieve with you the reality of tall and thick walls, and love that you are committed to remembering there was more before, and still is. Blessings to you and your husband as you struggle to see each other.
Dear Janet, I loved this entry and loved the photo. I loved the marriage intensive where you were reminded to look back at the beginning hello and what drew you to one another. I needed that reminder today as I have been battling illnesses for a few weeks and my husband as well. We are fragile and need one another. Your simple, but brilliant, reflection to return to the original hello is exactly what I need this morning to get “out of my own self” and rise up to Dan with grace and love. Illness and misery is a killer of hello. That can be crushing to the spirit. Thank you. I sit now and prepare my heart for a new hello to Dan this morning….
Oh Becky, how true it is that illness and misery is a killer of hello. I’m so sorry it sounds like your reality for a while! I relate to how hard it is in that space to get out of myself – and even if I do, most likely it would be to express disappointment to Chris for how he didn’t care for me well enough. And yet remembering those early stories and what is most true can bring my heart back to that kind hello space. I am hopeful for you that it was a sweet reconnection for you and Dan.
This calls to me on so many levels. There are spaces where I long for new hellos.
I hear your longing – it’s part of who you are in the beautiful way you facilitate birth and new life. May this year bring those new hellos.
I saved this entry to read this morning because I knew this day would bring a particular fear and challenge for me and I trusted your words to be brave and vulnerable and call forth the same in me. Thank you for that. gulp. here goes… 🙂
Brave Lindsay…I love this! You are so intentional about kindness for your heart. May you feel the goodness today in the way you are living so courageously. Much love to you!
LOVE!!!!!!!!! That is all I have to say about that. You inspire me to be a hello kind of girl.
Love this Janet!
I love “hellos”!!! Thanks for sharing yours today. My husband says I must have “hello” written across my face. I find myself in the middle of many “hello” conversations.