It’s a week before Christmas. I’m standing in line at the post office, waiting. I’m not alone. Others stand silently in a long queue that snakes its way outside. They wait, too.
It’s an understatement to say Americans enjoy waiting in line anywhere. Or, for that matter, waiting for anything. We’re used to instantaneous fulfillment that technology has blessed us with.
Thank you, microchip, Amazon, Google. We praise you. You’ve rescued us from hours of tedium and wasted time waiting in lines like this. But like any other saving grace, your salvation has come with a cost—in this case the loss of human interaction.
Not that anyone would choose to participate voluntarily in a slow-moving line of impatient people. And at this hour, who’s interested in striking up conversation with strangers? We have things to do, places to go. Our calendars are crammed with do, do, do. We have no time.
Here in the dimly-lit corridor the ‘line-waiters’ lean against walls and windows; some sport white cords that dangle from their ears. Some faces bear looks of boredom and mild impatience. Some even appear to have been lobotomized. Their Christmas expressions are elsewhere. Waiting in lines can do this.
The line-standers divert attention and eye contact by fiddling with iPhones, picking at their nails or examining their shoes or the tiles on the floor. Anything to appear disinterested. It’s like being part of a crowd trapped in an elevator. Nobody talks. Except me.
A lady stands nearby. Not too close, mind you. Americans covet space, their personal space. Proximity promotes a negative energy field that prompts, “Back off, buster, you’re too close.”
I cheerfully offer up this week’s ice-breaker, “Merry Christmas.” I exclaim it with gusto as if I were Santa himself. I omit the ‘ho, ho, ho’ part since it has other connotations these days. Heads turn. The silence is broken. Movement occurs. People shuffle, change positions. One might think I’d woken up a corpse.
She returns the greeting. I ask why she’s focused so intently on the cell. I expect a reply like, “None of your business, creep.” But no, she shows me photos of her grandbaby being held in her arms. A big smile follows. Who can resist smiling at the sight of a tiny, new-born baby that’s wrapped in red ribbon?
Then a strange thing happens. Others waiting in line want to take a peek. A spirit begins to arouse the lethargic line. Exclamations of “How beautiful, a wonderful Christmas gift, so sweet, how blessed” and so on. You’d think this is the first time people had ever seen a baby.
Slowly the line creeps forward, packages are retrieved, some are sent. Christmas stamps are purchased and faces smile again as they leave. Soon I’m burdened with boxes of my own, courtesy of an Amazon Fulfillment Center. A gentleman steps out of line and opens the door for me. Ah, the spirit of Christmas is alive indeed.
Lines are here to stay. So is waiting. Car pool lines, TSA lines, check-out lines, check-in lines, doctor’s lines, lines to greet the preacher, lines at the grocery store and traffic lines. We’re trapped in lines.
Yet, some lines can have positive effects, sort of like adult time-out. No rush, no auto, no danger. Nerves relax. Blood pressure drops. Noise abates, and we regain the serenity of our own souls.
You might find it odd, but some of my most favorite ‘lines’ are found in poetry, music and scripture. Some are long, move slowly. Others are short, move quickly. But my mind never objects to pausing and waiting, and letting the movement of words and notes take me where they will.
This Christmas I am waiting in the music line of “This Christmastide,” a beautifully, haunting tune with lines like this:
“From a simple ox’s stall came the greatest gift of all.
Truth and love and hope abide this Christmastide, this Christmastide.”
I’d be pleased to have you join me for a few moments waiting in these lines authored by the prophet Isaiah:
“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, and the government shall be upon his shoulder; and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”
Some lines are well worth waiting in. Thank you for waiting in mine. Merry Christmas.
Bud Hearn
December 20, 2019