Transporting Mrs Villous.
A story about how getting your own way enriches others.
Recently, a dear friend of mine wrote a little story about giving an older woman, named Mrs Villous, a drive down Jack’s Hill. Mrs Villous boarded the vehicle after hearing very explicitly from my dear friend that he was NOT going to Papine. It turned out Papine is actually where Mrs Villous wanted to go. But in the fashion of boiling a frog slowly in a pot of water that is put on the fire cold, Mrs Villous proceeded to board the vehicle, knowing full well that the driver had no plan of going to Papine.
Like many older people boarding a higher vehicle, it takes a few moments to get settled in. Hips squared. Seatbelt buckled, facing forward. In the few minutes it took Mrs Villous to duly settle herself, the driver tried to ascertain where she was going. In those same few moments, while she was clambering in, Mrs Villous began a query:
“Can I ask you a favour…”
From my own experience of taking elders around in my vehicle, I know that usually, by the time they are settled in, a certain kind of humility settles over me. These two “settlings” kind of go hand-in-hand. We begin being the ones providing a drive, but we end up being the ones who are blessed with many observations, a few of which may go like this:
We still are able to move with a little more nimbleness than those we are transporting. No particular credit to ourselves, just the luck of the draw otherwise known as God’s mercy and grace.
We become aware that age, that reliable brother of faith and great-uncle of humility is always waiting for us. We feel the breath of this relative, breathing down our neck-backs.
We notice our own health and strength, and become very palpably aware that it will not last forever.
So the mere act of having someone board the vehicle and get settled in allows us to be reminded in a very humbling way of our own humanity and the fact that, before long, we too will be the ones requiring these extra minutes to get settled in.
Humility is the fertile ground for love and service.
If we ever doubt this, I think a quick glance at a broken human body that hangs from a cross in death, providing an avenue for forgiveness, mercy and grace demonstrates quite palpably that humility is the fertile ground of love and service.
So Mrs Villous’ first gambit is to establish the humility of her driver. He may come from a big house on the hill. He may be driving a new-ish vehicle. He may have high colour and light eyes, suggestive of being born into the upper-St-Andrew realm [an area in Jamaica where many people have privilege, whether earned or by virtue of the circumstances of their birth]. He might think he is the one offering the drive, but he would be wrong to think that that makes him the determinant of the destination. No sirree!
Mrs Villous’ settling in establishes the fertile ground for love and service.
While she is settling in, the driver attempts to establish his context for possibly not being able to offer the favour that was requested …
“sure; if I am able” …
Love and service like to have a backdoor by which to exit. Without that backdoor, they are not given freely, but are surrendered out of being cornered, with no option, with no choice. Love and service are choices. Not always easy choices to make, but choices we make that stem from … you got it … humility - the fertile ground for love and service.
My friend creates the dynamic of establishing some possibility of choice. A backdoor installation … one imagines an “I’m so sorry I cannot, I’m in a hurry, my own life calls, I have commitments, I’m an important person.” Very upper-St-Andrew-ish
Once settled, Mrs Villous simply said …
“I wanted to be seated before asking; Can you take me into Papine, please."
No question mark. Really, she nailed the English meaning of the word “Can” versus “Will”.
Of course my friend, the humbled-fertile-ground-for-love-and-service could. Of course he could.
He has installed the backdoor to decline. But he did not use it.
Partly because Mrs Villous’ query, in the face of the initial “I am not going to Papine” ultimately challenged his own self-importance. A challenge to one’s self-importance when the ground of one’s own humility has already been tilled - this is a winking glimpse into heaven.
My friend could. And he did.
In this exchange, Mrs Villous got her ride.
She did not do it by violence or even by coercive means really.
She looked at a situation that had a backdoor installed.
She bravely asked for what she required.
She did not surrender her dignity.
She did not challenge the dignity of her driver.
She used the tools of:
time (remember the initial, “Can I ask you a favour …” then the time for settling in, then the statement of request (not quite an ask, not quite a tell … a gentle, eloquent balance between the two - a statement of request).
the space to allow observation of humanity (her own and the driver’s own)
the courage to make the statement of request in the face of a backdoor installation.
Humanity is full of backdoors and asks and tells.
Humanity is full of hurriedness too busy to hold space for observation, and the humble ground of love and service which observation will often yield.
Humanity is full of fear that stops us from making the statements of request that neither tells nor asks, but allows for the winking glimpse into heaven.
Hear what Mrs Villous is saying and open your eyes to the winks.
(this link provides the original story of the drive given to Mrs Villous …