So.... there was a time when I felt that I needed to apologize to the teens because, well... basically... I had been shunning them. I had not been treating them like I valued them as part of our community. I didn't apologize. Pride got in the way. I took the easy way out and pretended everything was okay when it wasn't.

In the comments on yesterday's post someone asked how I would have reacted if my family - cousins, say - had trashed the dining room. Surely I would talk to them about it? Surely I would be upset? Yes, I would... but that hardly embodies Christ's admonition to "Turn the other cheek," to forgive "seventy times seven times." I began searching for a third way. As I thought through the idea of my family trashing the dining room my reaction was, "But my family wouldn't do that." And of course, they wouldn't. Why? Because they're family. Still it didn't register. I kept searching and eventually asked, "What have I done to deserve this?" Then, okay... "What might I have done to create this situation?"

At that moment I had my answer.

Tonight before dinner I talked about the kids trashing the room. I apologized to them. I told them I hadn't treated them like I valued them or their presence here. This was a huge thing for me and, as I was saying it, I felt like it could have huge repercussions in our community. The third way I was searching for was a long term approach that would involve getting to know the kids, building relationships with them. As I was in the middle of this talk, though, all hell broke loose.

The Little Mouth That Roared, a tiny guy who makes up for his lack of height with his mouth, came through the door in the middle of my apology. He was wearing a brand-new suit that someone had splattered with whipped cream. Black suit, huge gobs of whipped cream. As he walked in the room a few folks in the crowd laughed. He roared at the top of his lungs - "It's not fucking funny you bunch of fucking assholes!"

So much for my profound spiritual moment. I dealt with the usual clamouring for attention from our guests in the dining room during dinner and we got the The Little Mouth That Roared into the washroom to take of his pants and jacket, which we sponged clean and put in the dryer upstairs. Of course, that left him in his shorts for an hour. Eventually we got him two aprons which he wrapped around himself and came back out in the dining room wearing his "dress". He went outside for a smoke, he had dinner, he settled down - all the while wrapped in aprons.  He finally came back into the dining room wearing his suit, looking good as new, and the guests who remained in the room burst into applause.I have a friend who has taught me about coping with situations like these. His expression is... "One day this will make a funny story."

And you know, he may be right.