Being Shy

Carol Roach



I used to be a shy person. Today I am a quiet person. I am no longer
shy there is a qualitative difference.

When I was a child I never went anywhere unless I had a friend with
me. I was dependant upon my friend to make my evening a success. Of
course I did not realize it at the time.

So if I wanted to go somewhere badly and my friend didn't go, neither
would. I would just stay home and be miserable.

Up until my divorce, nothing much had changed. I was 25-years-old,
still shy, and still depending upon my friends to make my social life
for me. I will say in my defense that I joined a group called single
again, all by myself – imagine that!

I had no other choice. None of my friends were divorced at the time.
I was finding my married friends and I no longer had the same issues
and they looked at me as the odd one. I was the failure, they told me
so. If I was to make a new life for myself, it had to include new
friends who shared the same interests and the same concerns.

A few acquaintances from the Single Again group talked about a single
parent association and the wonderful dances etc. I was never a dance
person, but the meetings and outings with the children sounded like a
wonderful idea at the time.

We arranged an evening to go, but one by one they cancelled out. One
couldn't get a baby sitter, another didn't have the money, and one
said she was sick. Of course I did not go by myself and they never
brought up going to the association again. Who knows they probably
decided to go without me. In any event these new friends proved to be
friends only for the duration of the course we were in. Once we no
longer had that common bond between us, the telephone calls ceased
and the communication between us ended.

I missed out on an opportunity to join a new group because I would
not go anywhere on my own.

One year later, I still remembered the single parent association. I
still wanted to go, but I still won't go. I am just too shy to meet
people on my own.

I found the location of the group and literally begged one of my
single friends to come with me. She was not interested. I bugged her
so much she decided to go, just to get me to shut up.

When we walked into the meeting, the first thing we noticed was that
everyone was white. My friend is a black woman and felt out of place.
We sat down in a corner and remained pretty much to ourselves the
entire evening.

The membership director of the group came over to talk to us. We
scoffed it off. It was her job to do just that, we rationalized, but
what about these other unfriendly people?

It was obvious to every person in that room, that we had copped an
attitude sending out the signal - leave us alone we don't fit in.

We left that evening complaining the people were not friendly. Nobody
bothered to say more than hello to us. "Who wants to be a member of
this snotty group anyhow? We whined.

Personally, what had I learned from that experience? I learned to
reinforce my own negative thinking and justify my behaviour by
putting myself in the victim mode.

Was I really a victim? Yes I was shy, but was I blameless? Hell no! I
never made an effort. I didn't get up and mingle, I sat there without
even a smile on my face, and picked fault with everything I saw.

By the following year I had taken self awareness courses and started
to seriously look at my weaknesses as well as my strengths.

I still wanted to be involved with the single parent association. But
this times things would be different. I was going to let them know
who I was. I was not going to sit in the corner and be ignored.

I had decided that being shy was not working for me. I was unhappy
and unless I created a new life for myself, I would continue to be
unhappy.

This new life meant I had to decide, whether or not I wanted to
continue to be shy, stay home and be miserable, or go out, push
myself forward, and see what happened.

I went to yet another meeting of the single parent association with
my friend. The difference this time was that I wasn't depending on
her to make my evening for me.

Lavenia assumed her usual stance in the corner. I went up to the
group immediately and introduced myself. I offered my "two cents
worth" into the ongoing conversation; guess what? The people were
very open and receptive. They invited me to join the board of
directors that very evening.

They found Lavenia to be very hostile. She refused to contribute to
the conversation taking place. When someone tried to talk to her, she
would respond with one word answers. Needless to say she did not
enjoy herself and told me she was never going back again.

On the other hand, I was opening up to a whole new world and its
accompanying experiences. I am now 50-years-old and I still have two
friends that I met through the association twenty-three-years before.

Within no time I took on different responsibilities within the
organization. My favourite board position was membership director. I
meet with the new people as they joined, processed their
applications, renewal fees, and listened to their issues.

One of the biggest membership concerns was about being shy and not
knowing how to open up to people. From my observations, I could see
there were two ways of approaching this concern. Some displayed a
positive attitude, taking responsibility for their behaviour.
However, others pulled a "Lavenia and Carol"; sitting there doing
nothing and expecting everyone else to make their happiness for them.

I had the opportunity to share my own experience some of the
membership, and with others, I just stated,

"I understand exactly what you are saying. You are right. Nobody
talked to you. I saw that myself, but while you were watching some
others have fun, you were sitting with people who were just as shy as
you are. Did you ever think that maybe they were thinking you were
unfriendly because you were not bothering with them either?"

The preverbal light bulb went off for a lot of them. They promised
they would make an effort to take one baby step; to talk to at least
one person sitting beside them. I even had to coach some of them on
how to start up a conversation with a stranger.

I began, "Start with Hi, I am Jane, I am new here. It's my first
night, and just see what happens."

Quite a few came back over the years to tell me they made a friend
that evening with Joe or Jim or Mary who was also new and just as shy
as they were. Later a veteran such as Fred or Lucy became their
friend as well.

Isn't it amazing just how much a shy person can really do when they
make an effort?



Carol Roach

winterose@...





A Native of Montreal, Quebec, Carol is a graduate of Concordia, and
McGill University. She holds a bachelor in psychology and a Masters
in counselling psychology. Carol Roach is a published writer and
newsletter editor. You can purchase her book: Picking up the Pieces:
A Woman's Journey at www.publishamerica.com, or www.amazon.com. You
can also go to your local bookstore and order it there as well.
Carol's second book: Angels Watching Over is currently looking for a
home. Stay tuned for details.



If you are interested in other stories feel free to join her
newsletter: Storytime Tapestry at: http://subs.zinester.com/98907 ,
or email her directly at winterose@... and she will be glad
to accommodate you. Carol enjoys email and responds to every inquiry.







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Who Started Christmas?

A woman was Christmas shopping with her two children.
After many hours of walking down row after row of toys
and after hours of hearing both her children asking for
everything they saw on those many shelves, she finally
made it to the store elevator with her two children in
hand. She was feeling what so many of us feel during
the holiday season time of the year, getting that
perfect gift for every single person on our shopping
list, overwhelming pressure to go to every party,
every housewarming, taste all the holiday food and
treats, making sure we don't forget anyone on our card
list, and the pressure of making sure we respond to
everyone who sent us a card.

Finally the elevator doors opened revealing a crowd in the
car. She pushed her way in and dragged her two kids and
all her bags of stuff in with her .
As the doors closed she couldn't take it anymore and
blurted out, "Whoever started this whole Christmas thing
should be found, strung up, and shot."

From the back of the car, a quiet calm voice responded,
"Don't worry, we've already crucified Him."
The rest of the trip down was so quiet you could have
heard a pin drop.
Don't forget this year to keep the One who started this
whole Christmas thing in your every thought, deed,
purchase, and word. If we all would, just think how
much better this world would be.


Christine


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Who's Your Daddy



A seminary professor was vacationing with his wife in Gatlinburg, TN.
One
morning, they were eating breakfast at little restaurant, hoping to
enjoy a
quiet, family meal. While they were waiting for their food, they
noticed
a distinguished looking, white-haired man moving from table to table,
visiting with the guests.

The professor leaned over and whispered to his wife, "I hope he
doesn't
come over here."

But sure enough, the man did come over to their table. "Where are you
folks
from?" he asked in a friendly voice.

"Oklahoma," they answered.

"Great to have you here in Tennessee." the stranger said. "What do
you do
for a living?"

"I teach at a seminary," he replied.

"Oh, so you teach preachers how to preach, do you? Well, I've got a
really
great story for you." And with that, the gentleman pulled up a chair
and
sat down at the table with the couple.

The professor groaned and thought to himself, "Great... Just what I
need...
another preacher story!"

The man started, "See that mountain over there? (Pointing out the
restaurant
window). Not far from the base of that mountain, there was a boy born
to an
unwed mother.

He had a hard time growing up, because every place he went, he was
always
asked the same question, 'Hey boy, Who's your daddy?' "Whether he was
at
school, in the grocery store or drug store, people would ask the same
question, 'Who's your daddy?'

He would hide at recess and lunchtime from other students. He would
avoid
going in to stores because that question hurt him so bad.

"When he was about 12 years old, a new preacher came to his church. He
would always go in late and slip out early to avoid hearing the
question,
'Who's your daddy?'. But one day, the new preacher said the
benediction
so fast he got caught and had to walk out with the crowd.

"Just about the time he got to the back door, the new preacher, not
knowing
anything about him, put his hand on his shoulder and asked him, 'Son,
who's
your daddy?'

"The whole church got deathly quiet. He could feel every eye in the
church
looking at him. Now everyone would finally know the answer to the
question,
'Who's your daddy'.

This new preacher, though, sensed the situation around him and using
discernment that only the Holy Spirit could give, said the following
to that
scared little boy. "'Wait a minute' he said. 'I know who you are. I
see
the family resemblance now. You are a child of God.'

With that he patted the boy on his shoulder and said, 'Boy, you've
got a
great inheritance. Go and claim it.'

The boy smiled for the first time in a long time and walked out the
door a
changed person. He was never the same again. Whenever anybody asked
him,
'Who's your Daddy?' he'd just tell them, 'I'm a Child of God'."

The distinguished gentleman got up from the table and said, "Isn't
that a
great story?"

The professor responded that it really was a great story.

As the man turned to leave, he said, "You know, if that new preacher
hadn't
told me that I was one of God's children, I probably never would have
amounted to anything!" And he walked away.

The seminary professor and his wife were stunned. He called the
waitress
over and asked her, "Do you know who that man was who just left that
was
sitting at our table?" The waitress grinned and said, "Of course.
Everybody here knows him. That's Ben Hooper. He's the former governor
of
Tennessee!"

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THE SANDS OF CHRISTMAS
by Michael Marks

I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh,
And looked across the table where the bills were piled too high.

The laundry wasn't finished and the car I had to fix,
My stocks were down another point, the Chargers lost by six.

And so with only minutes till my son got home from school
I gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.
The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,
And so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.

I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,
No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.

And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh,
Eight Humvees ran a column right behind an M1A.

A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens
Their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.

They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight,
Their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.

Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,
To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again .
There wasn't much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease,
They had no Christmas turkey, just a pack of MREs.

They didn't have a garland or a stocking I could see,
They didn't need an ornament--they lacked a Christmas tree.

They didn't have a present even though it was tradition,
The only boxes I could see were labeled "ammunition."

I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side,
He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.
I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so near And kissed him on
the
forehead as I whispered in his ear.

"There's nothing wrong, my little son, for safe we sleep tonight
Our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right,

To worry on the things in life that mean nothing at all,
Instead of wondering if we will be the next to fall."

He looked at me as children do and said, "It's always right,
To thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write."

And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note,
To thank the many far from home and this is what we wrote:

"God bless you all and keep you safe and speed your way back home.
Remember that we love you so, and that you're not alone.

The gift you give you share with all, a present every day,
You give the gift of liberty and that we can't repay."

Michael Marks: "I freely submit this poem for reprint without
reservation--this is an open and grateful tribute to the men and
women who
serve every day to keep our nation safe.

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Remember 9/11/01

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