Matchless socks prove universal
One woman in a traditional Muslim scarf came up to me and asked, in broken English, if we had any socks for her baby. Occasionally we keep drawers of new socks—but there was nothing in the drawer. The socks I could find for kids was an unlabeled bag filled with socks of many sizes and cute designs—but none of the socks had mates.
I took the bag to the woman in a weak attempt to show I had tried to find her some socks, but could only offer these mateless wonders. I tried to speak with gestures—holding up a single sock and pointing to the bag and shrugging my shoulders. A small group of women gathered around to see what I was offering. How could I explain to them they were mateless—victims of the sock monster that lives in every household in America.
Ah—it didn’t take them long to figure out that the bag was filled with mateless socks. Surely the affliction that affects every household in America also affects every family in Iraq—Muslim or not. I did not need Arabic or English to explain the problem. They began telling each other, with wry smiles, that the bag had only single socks.
Some things are universal.
Perhaps the bigger question was why did we hang on to this bag of unmatched socks? I guess for the same reason I hang on to them at home—hoping that sometime, somehow, the mates will show up, or, in the case of the Clothes Closet, that we will discover other mateless socks that match the ones in the bag. Because that would be the real tragedy, right? To throw away an unmatched sock one day and then a week or two later, find the mate. Every homemaker (male or female) in America who does the laundry worries about this, right? Probably every parent around the world, at least in climates where socks are worn, has this worry: if I throw the sock away, the mate will show up.
If we all have drawers filled with unmatched socks, can world peace be far behind?
Seriously, human beings share many deep needs: the need to be loved, fed, sheltered, find meaning and purpose in life. We get hungry, have sexual needs and desires, are born, get old and die. Blood runs in our veins and souls reside with our spirits.
I’ll be honest—people from other cultures sometimes grate on my nerves because they seem more comfortable being confrontational, (pushy?) have less need of spaces between bodies (otherwise known as crowding), and upfront about asking for what they need (demanding?). There are differences between groups of people (and individuals) and we don’t get anywhere by denying differences. My personal and cultural idiosyncrasies surely grate on the nerves of others.
But it was comforting to know I had something very ordinary in common with these women. It was a place to start to get to know women who were refugees from a country with which my country had been at war. They were humans who had fled the horror of war for safety and a better life. One family I interviewed with the help of an interpreter, (for different purposes,) told how their daughter’s safety and life had been threatened. They eagerly welcomed the opportunity to come to North America when they got the chance. Would I do any differently, given the same circumstances?
And so we share clothes with these newcomers, and our faith and trust in God. The real tragedy (and now I’m serious) is when we make no attempt to understand people from different backgrounds who surround us. God calls us to love and understanding.
What do you think? Post your response at the Facebook page for Another Way or http://www.thirdway.com/AW/
Melodie Davis is the author of nine books, most recently Whatever Happened to Dinner, and has written Another Way since 1987. She is also the producer and co-host of the Shaping Families radio program airing nationally.
Published: March 9, 2011
