Bark Less, Wag More

I've sat down a number of times to write about my trip (see previous post for more details), but there are so many things to say that I end up feeling a bit overwhelmed. I could write a snarky essay about how Europeans must surely perceive Americans (pushy, overweight, and some word that means the opposite of classy and stylish). I could share some of the weird experiences we had, like the public toilet (yes, singular) in the middle of a busy French street, with a revolving door that only stayed shut for 20 seconds, or the Spanish-speaking Asian woman who accosted us as we lay on the beach, literally picking up our feet and vigorously rubbing them while begging for money.

I could write about getting a personal tour of the statue of David, of dashing through the Vatican Museum like video game characters, dodging tour groups, wheelchairs, and strollers, of seeing one of the grandest basilicas in the world and feeling--well, feeling nothing at all, oddly enough. I could try to find words for how grateful I felt to be visiting some of the most famous, important, and beautiful cities in the world, or how taking it all in was like drinking from a fire hose, as one friend put it.

I could go in a different direction and write about my children, how impressed I was by the responsibility and resourcefulness they showed while we were gone. I could brag about my 69-year-old mother,who stepped in and ran a family full of busy children as if she does it every day, and who never complained, not even when the dog dragged her through the dirt and left a horrible leash-burn on her hand. I could affirm that it truly is difficult for a mom to be gone in May, every bit as difficult as I had imagined, and that one can experience joyful, awe-filled gratitude and wonder in Italy while at the exact same time feeling heart-sick about missing the band concert at home.

But I want to do more than amuse you. I'd like to try to offer something that could change your day--maybe even your month or your year. That's a lofty goal, but here's what I've got: Be pleasant company. 

As I mentioned in my last post, I signed up for this trip reluctantly, even grumpily. I hated how that felt, and I asked God to change my hard heart. It didn't happen overnight; in fact, it didn't happen with much time to spare. But three or four weeks before we left, God impressed on me to be pleasant company to my husband. It was his trip, and I was his very fortunate guest. The least I could do was to be a pleasant traveling companion.

Was I tested on it? Yes, hourly. Did I master it? Not even close. A Mediterranean cruise sounds pretty cushy, but travel is stressful, whether you're going to a funeral in Des Moines or a vacation in Spain. There are so many unexpected circumstances that can bring out the worst in a person. But it all goes a lot better if you're committed to the idea of being pleasant company to the people you're traveling with.

Most of us inherently know what pleasant company looks like. We practice it with strangers but forget to practice it with the people closest to us. It's pretty simple. Start by smiling more. Laugh more. Be playful. (Why is it that middle-aged parents are so serious all the time?) Say thank you, A LOT. Be agreeable and flexible. Be willing to try things a different way than how you normally function. Don't feel the need to share your every complaint and negative thought. For women especially: Don't parent your husband. Don't correct him or fuss at him. Don't question his every move. Let him lead.

There is nothing more attractive than a man boldly, decisively, confidently leading. Let the feminist choir rise up against me and throw rotten tomatoes; I don't care. I think there are a whole lot of women who would agree with me that confident leadership, assuming you're married to a decent guy, is super attractive.

If you're traveling this summer, experiment with this idea. Focus on being pleasant company. If it goes as well for you as it did for me, take it up a notch and try being pleasant company at home. I know, right? Crazy! Home is supposed to be the place where we can be ourselves, let our hair down, be real. But if that's not working out so well, try being pleasant instead. You may have to work at it. You may even have to fake it a little. That's OK. We are creatures who love rewards, and if your experiment goes as I think it will, the rewards will be worth your effort.

Life is hard. God mercifully gives us other people to travel with through the hardness. My hypothesis, still undergoing much testing, is that it's much easier if we travel as pleasant company.