A few weeks ago, we were setting up for a big community garage sale as a fundraiser to help finance a week-long training camp for teens at the state capitol. During set up, I spent more time chasing down the kids to help than actually working. The fundraiser was for them, not the adults, but the adults seemed to be doing all the work, and I was irritated, to say the least.
Holding a serving spoon with a glob of nacho cheese caked to it, I turned to the nearest child to ask that it be cleaned. Subconsciously, I expected her to comply, but it was clear the kids had their own agenda that day. They were there to socialize, and all parental orders distracted them from their real purpose.
So there I was, searching for a teen, cheese-encrusted spoon in hand. Anna was closest to me, and at this point, my expectations had been set. I figured she’d take the spoon, shoulders subtly slumped at the faint disappointment of having to interrupt her conversation, and run off to the sink so she could hurry back and resume the real work of socializing.
Instead, she smiled and said, “Sure!” and reached out her hand to take the spoon. She was cheerful and unrushed, and everything about her body language said, “I have no other agenda right now but to serve you.”
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