Starvation had set in. That is what prompted us to find food at the nearest possible location. When I walked to the counter to pay for our food, a Hispanic girl with kind eyes and a warming smile waited for me at the counter, but right next to her was a boisterous guy beckoning me to his cash register. He was funny and we had clearly made eye contact, so I felt compelled to go to his register instead. But as soon as I move over, I notice the kind girl had also moved over to join in the conversation. She knew who I was. She asked if I still was working at Edwin Markham Elementary School.. I struggled to remember her. Nothing was familiar about her. I was certain she wasn't a past student of mine and instead must know me because she had seen me at the school and was in the Bilingual program there.
She then went on to tell me how good my son Nate did at track this year. She even told me about specific runs she had seen him in. I'm surprised that I still don't know her, when clearly we have been at the same running events. Then she comments about how well my daughter did last year on her graduation speech as the valedictorian. I was blown away. At this point, I want to know who she is. Who is this young lady who pays such close attention to others and makes them feel known? I ask her to remind me of her name, It is Joseline. I thought maybe the name would trigger a memory, but it doesn't. The one thing I know is that this girl's observation skills are stellar.
I begin wondering about her. What had propelled her to engage in conversation with me? I really didn't know her. Yet, she made the effort to go to the other register, when I didn't even go to hers to have this conversation with me. After a comment or two and I didn't have anything to say, she didn't let the conversation drop, she continued to tell me more about the good things she had seen my children do. And then the part of feeling known, why did that make me feel so good? There was nothing really special about us to take notice of and yet she had and she wanted me to know that we mattered. That we were seen and we were known.
I left in wonderment of Joseline. I wanted to be more like her. One who notices others and then makes the effort to reach out and sprinkle kind words that leaves the other party feeling blessed by the encounter.
Several days later, still thinking about this encounter, I looked up the meaning of her name and found it meant happy, joyful. She was indeed living up to her name perfectly.
