Taking the Time
Peacemaker by Leslie Gaworecki 2019
Original artwork inspired by “Taking the Time” by Catherine Gentry
I don’t even know his name, and it’s probably too late to ask.
It might be Charles, but I’m not sure. I think he told me once, but at the time I was too busy to care, like a lot of people these days. He is the security guard at the shopping center where I go in the mornings to my yoga studio. I pass him as I go to class, and he greets me with his usual, “Hello there, beautiful lady! Beautiful weather today, isn’t it?” If it’s raining, he modifies it just a bit, “Good morning! We need this rain and the sun will shine again soon!” When it’s a particularly nice day, one of those Houston beauties that stand out from the hot and humid norm, he dons a black cowboy hat with his uniform, tipping it politely as he greets me, always smiling.
When I first met him, or rather, didn’t meet him (there’s that name issue still out there), I thought it was annoying. It seems like I’m always running late, or if I’m not actually late, I’m literally running so I won’t be. My time is segmented into little blocks with no room for error, like a complicated air traffic controller’s schedule, and if anything takes longer than the allotted time, it throws me off. For the whole day. That sounds dramatic, but years of honing my scheduling skills have allowed me to pull it off most days. And when I do, I get a little jolt of adrenaline, a sense of victory, although over what I’m not sure. Maybe, in some esoteric way, it’s a small win over time itself and its inevitable victory over all of us. Or maybe it’s just completing the list of tasks in less than the time allotted, like some kind of competitive sport—Olympic gold medal level errand running.
Which brings me to what I’ve discovered, thanks to Charles. (I know that’s not his name, but I’ve always liked the name and it seems to fit him). There are two kinds of people in this world, those who take time and those who take the time. The distinction sounds inconsequential, but it matters. I have always been the kind who takes time, greedily consuming it for my own advancement, rushing from errand to errand, choosing the faster lane on the highway, speeding through the grocery store using a targeted approach to streamline my shopping and my cart to block less strategic shoppers. I want to win, to take the least amount of time and make it work to my advantage, so at the end of the day I can say, “I did it—I won!” And then each day, I get up to do it all over again.
Charles, on the other hand, takes the time. He takes the time to say hello, to smile, to greet people. It’s his job, true, but then it’s not. His job is to provide security, making sure that no cars are broken into while other people rush about their business. He doesn’t have to say hello, and he really doesn’t have to smile when he says it. But he does. And what I’ve learned from him is that taking the time matters, not just to Charles, but to the people he greets.
When I first started taking the time, or at least a little time, to respond to Charles, I found myself smiling as I walked into yoga, or afterwards, as he wished me, “A good day to you, beautiful lady. We are so blessed to have this day.” Then I realized other people going to the shopping center actually stopped to talk to him. How did they have the time? I thought about how his attention made me smile, and one day I stopped to talk to him.
I was wearing my yoga shirt that said, “Peacemaker,” a gift from my daughter. I like it because it makes me look hip and cool, although I’m thinking if I use the words “hip” and “cool” I’m probably not. Anyway, Charles noticed it and said, “Peacemaker. Like the Bible. That’s one of my favorites. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will ….what will they do? I can’t remember.” I was late for yoga, but I had stopped, and smiled, and now I had two choices. I could smile vaguely and rush in to class, or I could take the time to talk to Charles and feel like a peacemaker, rather than a worried, rushing woman with no time for anyone but myself.
I glanced in the window at the class assembling, spreading out their mats, and turned back to Charles. “Let me look it up on my phone,” he said, fumbling with his iPhone, trying to find how to search it. Charles is older than I am, and I was actually impressed he had an iPhone. He continued fumbling. I wanted to grab the phone out of his hand, hurry things along, but intent on slowing down, even if just for a moment, I took a breath and waited.
He nodded, a small smile forming around his eyes.
“Here it is: ‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall inherit the earth. That’s right, that’s it.”
The smile that had been in his eyes moved to envelop his whole face.
“That’s the reason I went into the force. Two guys were about to have a fight, and when I saw them, I remembered that verse.”
Briefly I thought of my yoga class, and how I’d have to put my mat next to the wall, where it’s crowded and hot, but I stayed. My eyes on his, with deliberate attention, I asked, “What did you do?”
“I stepped in to stop them, and I know that was the right thing to do.” He nodded, as if in answer to his own question. “We should be the peacemakers.” He smiled at me and tipped his hat, turning to do his rounds of the parking lot once more.
I went in to yoga, and as I did my warrior two pose in the very back corner, my hand brushing up against the wall, I suddenly realized: Charles didn’t know my name, but he took the time anyway. I exhaled the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, and smiled.
