Lunch Tray Memory: Disappointment and Anger Before Gratitude
Yesterday I felt angry about something that happened 15 years ago.
Nothing notable triggered the memory, but there it was.
One minute I was reading a map on a train and the next I was reliving an unfair moment from the past.
It started as an image of Byron in first grade.
Well, not really of him, but of an application I submitted on his behalf to attend a private school whose expressions of values I embraced, but who, in fact, disappointed me with a rejection that did not seem to live up to those values.
Next year Byron will graduate from college, and the University of Arizona never asked if he could carry a lunch tray.
They told me Byron would not be admitted because he couldn’t carry his own lunch tray.
I suspect the reason ran deeper, but other truths weren’t mentioned.
They were, though, right about the tray.
Because of surgery that impacted the entire right side of his body, managing a heavy, unstable object with one hand would have been impossible without help.
I shudder as I picture a rolling apple flipping the tray and tears of shame spilling alongside the blue-white contents of the milk box.
The tray was a representation of repeated tests of agility he would have certainly failed had he attended that school.
If they had, he’d have been able to demonstrate mastery of that one-handed trick.
Still, my response to the memory yesterday was unexpected, and had I been sufficiently rested, perhaps I could have blessed it and sent it on its way.
After the train ride I began reading Kate Braestrup’s Beginner’s Grace where disappointment is defined as “. . . the feeling you get when reality doesn’t meet your expectations.”
And gratitude is ". . . the feeling you get when reality exceeds your expectations.
Therefore, Braestrup's argument goes, "The truly rational, realistic person should feel overwhelmingly grateful all the time.”
And I agree.
Hands down, the joy of parenting far exceeds the disappointments, and gratitude for me is a practice of noticing.
The pairing of disappointment with gratitude cast new light on the memory of that early rejection with its shameless message of perfection, and soon my mind and heart were sending me snapshots of the scores of helpers who saw a need and stepped forward to carry Byron’s tray and so much more.
Today, rested, I’m able to thank the memory for bringing gratitude to mind.
And with a new found gentleness, I bless it and send it on its way.
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