Mr. McVeeBee

I wish I had been Andy Taylor, Sheriff Taylor, that is, when my children were growing up.  Oh, heck, I wish I were him now.  I'm sure he would have been as good a grandparent as he was a parent--a single parent at that.

Here's why--in case you have forgotten the gentle sheriff or if you haven't watched "The Andy Griffith Show" recently. (Why you should watch this delightful show is for a whole other post!)

But this morning I joined the husband while he was watching some old "Andy Griffith"--the early black and white series with little Opie, Aunt Bee, Barney, and, of course, the oh-so-wise and patient Sheriff Taylor.  In this episode, Opie got himself in trouble (at least with Barney) about his imagination.

At first it was the black horse that he galloped around on and then, when called into breakfast, he tied the horse to the hitching post outside the back door.  Literal Barney totally bought into the black horse story and of course was puffed up and indignant when he realized it was a "play-like" black horse.

Then Opie, while roaming around in the woods, discovered a telephone lineman working high in the trees.  Mr. McVeeBee and Opie became friends at once.  (Remember this was in the 50's--in the time that kids could play outside, walk around in the town or woods, visit with strangers, and go home in time for supper.)

The conflict is this episode was whether to believe Opie or not when he claimed to have met Mr. McVeeBee.   

In an online summary of the show, it says, "Opie talks excitedly about his new friend, Mr. McVeeBee, and describes him in fantastical terms (he walks in the treetops, wears a silver hat, has twelve extra hands, blows smoke from his ears, etc.). At first Andy and Barney accept this as childhood make-believe, but when Opie starts coming home with a series of gifts (including an Indian hatchet) supposedly from Mr. McVeeBee, Andy is forced to call the fantasizing to a halt. Meanwhile, we are made privy to the fact that Mr. McVeeBee is indeed real and that his whimsical quirks all have a rational explanation. Andy tells Opie he will not punish him if he denies Mr. McVeeBee's existence."

Although Opie tries to deny Mr. McVeeBee's existence to stay out of a punishment, he can't.  Nor can Andy punish him for his determined belief.  Does one have to see Mr. McVeeBee to believe he exists?  What a choice:  reason or faith?

Even though that series is old, the parable that it illustrates is still relevant, impressive and thought-provoking today.  What an impact that had on me.

But I also was touched once again by the gentleness, kindness, and patience that Andy had with little Opie.  Of course, that was fiction; that constantly calm, rational, and soft-spoken parent really doesn't exist, right?

Let me say, they do exist.  The way Andy handled this situation with Opie in today's show reminds me of how my daughter and her husband deal with my grandson.  Never raising their voices; always removing him from a situation when he is having a problem or a disagreeable moment, and then talking to him gently, not losing their cool, using logic--not threats.  Yes, it exists.  It exists in my sweet daughter and son-in-law's home.  Oh my, they are so good with that little "Opie" of theirs.  I am so proud of them.

Like I said, I wish I had been that "Andy Taylor-wise" while my own children were growing up.  Maybe if I just spend the day watching more of him, it will rub off on me.  I'm suggesting that simply to learn, you know, not to put off my chores.  Hmmm, now how would Andy handle that?

Okay,  off to work I go..........maybe!  But if you don't have chores, tune in to Andy!

Leta

Judging

Judging:  1.   a balanced viewpoint through careful weighing of evidence; discernment
                2.   criticism

I looked up this word even though I "know" what it means.  You, too, know what it means, right?  We do it all the time although we may not use the actual word.   In fact, we may not even use the first definition.  The second one is so much easier.

How easy it is to "judge" other people by criticizing them (of course when they can't hear us).  What an abundant amount of material there is to "judge" them by.  We may judge a person by the way she dresses, talks, where he lives, what they do.  So I guess unfortunately all my "judging" fits the second definition.  But look at that first one--"a balanced viewpoint through careful weighing of evidence."  My!  Who has time to carefully weigh evidence when you are judging!  I say that with sarcasm but I think it may be truer than I would want it to be.

In a courtroom I expect a "balanced viewpoint."  The judge will look at all the sides of the evidence before announcing an opinion.  But out of the courtroom, we all too often become "judges" but not necessarily with care or balance or discernment.  We, or I, go directly to the criticism definition.

We've been taught that it is wrong to judge.  It's in the Bible; it is part of parents' and teachers' instructions to their kids.   So why do we do it?

Maybe we don't think we are doing it; maybe we have done it so much that it really doesn't phase us anymore.  Nevertheless, why am I thinking about it today?


I guess it started when my son-in-law who lives nearby asked if he could borrow my paints.  I said, "Of course, but I have to find them."  I knew they were in my room, but that night my room was a mess.  (Don't judge me!)

He followed me to the room and I looked in all the places I thought they might be in.  Well, it was really a little more complicated than that because I had to step over piles all around my unmade bed to do so.  (I have excuses if you want to hear them.)  Nevertheless, I finally found them.

I also found that I was exceedingly embarrassed about the state of the room--enough so that I attacked the room the very next day and put it in perfect order.  I was quite pleased with myself and decided to send Shaun a picture of it.  I wanted him to see for himself that the room was clean and is most of the time (okay--some of the time).

So I sent him the picture of a very clean, organized, neat room with a message that stated something like, "See, I can clean it up."  He sent back this message:  "I won't judge you if you won't judge me!"

Wow!  What an amazing young man.  And the truth of it is that he means it.  I know how easy it is to say the right thing but it is hard to always mean it.  This guy is so genuine and sensible and nonjudgmental.  He taught me something that day and I have thought of that comment many times since.

Judging--at least the second part of the definition, criticism--is so a part of our culture.  We see in politics the constant judging and criticizing.  In churches, the ministers are the first to be judged.  Even in small groups of friends, we judge.  We may like to call it discussing (gossip?), but in doing so, do we "achieve a balanced viewpoint?"  Or do we just point out how someone is different from us (generally meaning they are wrong or not as good as we are)?

Judging others is not the only way of judging.  I see it frequently as a personal thing.  I judge myself often and I must say rather harshly.  I think I ought to be as organized as so-and-so.  Or enjoy cooking as much as that person.  Or have a perfect marriage like "those" people.  When expressing these shortcomings of mine, a very wise person said these words to me:  "Do not judge others' outsides by your insides."
   



Wow again!  I must admit I have done that.  Those people living in those big, beautiful houses must have it made.  That couple is always holding hands; they must have a great marriage.  That top dog executive has it all!  What a life.   The Life looks so good from the outside.  However, we really don't know their stories;  we don't know what all goes on the inside of that house or that person.  Their real stories may make us grateful for ours. 



Okay, so all this judging, criticizing, or discerning--whatever you call it--happens.  We deal with it.  We resolve not to be so judgmental.  We try to have a more balanced viewpoint.  We fail and we try again.

I doubt that judging others or ourselves will stop; maybe reading this and thinking about judging will help.  Maybe Shaun's comment will stick in your mind as it has mine.

But in case I have become too didactic, let me close with the quote:

If you care to walk in my shoes, go ahead.  Plus, I'll tell you right now, you can even keep the shoes.  They probably hurt my feet anyway.

Judging not,
Leta