for tater tot on her birthday

I was utterly unimpressed the day I first saw my youngest sister. I was 12 and not a very big fan of babies, and  "Kathryn Amelia Hill Kate," as she styled herself until the age of 5 or 6, was red and squishy and not at all interactive. How dull. But she soon grew up and could do fun things like: demand that I make her more pancakes (pakes), because 7 just wasn't enough; cry when she spilled her milk unless Kristi and I sang the special song about spilling her milk (Kate spilled her milk, she is a cheese...); or ask me to play "sir," a game which involved me speaking in a British accent and pretending I was a man whilst making her food (usually pancakes). We spent a lot of time in the kitchen. 

Now Kater is all grown up (though she still asks me to make her pancakes on a fairly regular basis) and turning 19 today. So for her birthday, I would like to share a short list of things that make her really great.

She is...

• a fantastic musician (singer and pianist)
• kind hearted
• an excellent and creative photographer and editor
• smart
• empathetic
• very stylish (except for those infernal high-waisted jeans)
• funny and snarky
• a really good auntie

Happy Birthday Kater!

if only i had...

Tonight whilst I was practicing the piano at church, a guy walked in the room looking for a girl he was supposed to meet. She was late, so he came and talked to me instead. I told him about how I learned to play the piano, that I'm an English teacher, that private classes were expensive, and that I always make mistakes playing when people listen to me, but could play (sometimes) flawlessly when alone. He told me that he was from Hungary, that he was lonely, that he had great faith in God's plan for him, that he was hoping to move up in his job soon, that he really wanted to get married, and did he mention that he was lonely?

At a few points in the conversation, I could have offered to help him out in some way. I could have volunteered to give him English lessons, for free or for pay. I could have suggested that he attend a camping trip that I know is happening this weekend with a group of guys from church. I could have invited him to come hang out with us or some friends at our house.

I didn't do any of this, unfortunately. I thought about it. I felt like I should. When he finally left me to play on my own again, I considered running downstairs after him. Ten minutes later when I finished playing, I poked around the foyer hoping to find him, but he was already gone and I instantly regretted it.

In the space of 90 seconds, I lost my chance to make a friend or to help someone because I thought it might be awkward, uncomfortable, presumptuous. Maybe he was a weirdo. Maybe Trav would feel like I had just brought home an unwanted litter of kittens. Maybe he would want me to teach him every week and I hate tutoring. Maybe he wasn't actually that lonely and didn't need me as a friend. But what it really came down to was that I was too afraid of committing my time without knowing the final cost or emotional investment.

I didn't follow my instincts because I was afraid of the unknown. I was too cautious when considering befriending a stranger. As I write this, I feel like I'm making a mountain of a molehill; surely it shouldn't be so complicated to be helpful. What's the big deal? I don't want my first instinct to be distrust or inconvenience, but sometimes it is. I don't want to live in a world where cynicism reigns supreme, even if that cynicism is disguised as realism.