“That’s Just the Type of Person That She Is”
Why it’s important to express ourselves intentionally and specifically.
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Yesterday, I was on my way out to my parents’ house — about 20 minutes from where I live in Salt Lake — to spend the afternoon with my mom. She had invited me to get lunch with her after hearing that I’d had a hellishly long week at work; that’s just the kind of person that she is.
On my way out, I stopped at my credit union to make a quick deposit. Being a Saturday, the lobby was closed early, and I only made it through the drive-in 15 minutes before closing time. The tellers seems more attendant than usual, as it was dark inside and there was no one else in line they needed to help.
After sending me my receipt, the young teller than helped me said, “This is a random question, but does your mom teach elementary school?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Well, she did. She retired two years ago.”
My last name is not super common, but also not super uncommon, for Utah. And I’ve had plenty of people ask me before if I was related to a Merrill that I ended up not being related to. But before even asking my mom’s first name, or asking where she taught, this 20-something teller said with a smile, “I’m pretty sure she was my second grade teacher!”
I could tell instantly by the way he said it that she was his teacher — how could she not be? — but asked him what school he went to anyway just to be sure. (She was was his teacher.)
I asked him his name and told him she’d be excited to hear that I met him. The reason I knew this is because that’s how she reacts to any kind of connection she can make with former students from her former 30-plus-year teaching career. That’s just the type of person that she is.
Sure enough, that’s what happened. An “Ahwww!” followed by her sharing extensive details about him and his family on the phone later led to my mom admitting that the experience almost made her cry. “I don’t want to say that I miss teaching, but I kind of do,” she said. That’s just the type of person that she is.
“That’s just the type of person that she is.”
It’s so easy to say this about someone like my mom. This phrase is the shorthand we use to talk about the type of people who make the world a little smaller and more intimate — the people who seem too genuine to be thriving in such a pessimistic world, and who have kindness and generosity so engrained in the habit of daily life that such a plane of niceness can seem almost intimidatingly unachievable for us selfish people. When we lack the words to describe the most memorable people in our lives, we use phrases like this:
“It totally makes sense that she would do that, that’s a ‘her’ thing for sure.”
“Yup, that totally sounds like him.”
“Oh, yeah, everyone loves her.”
“That’s just the type of person that he is.”
I’ve been thinking a lot about these phrases lately.
The problem with these phrases (when used exclusively) is that while they do vaguely acknowledge something in another human being that we’ve admired over time, they are flippant, and don’t let us be intentional and conscious about recognizing — and most importantly, speaking — exactly what it is we love about each other in a vulnerable, specific manner.
(In fact, the same thing goes when we use some of these phrase negatively; if you’re frustrated with someone for doing something and say “of course you would do that” or “that’s so you,” what are you really doing to help resolve the tension by being passive-aggressive and vague?)
It’s not that we lack the words to explain what people mean to us, and how we feel about them, and how we value our connection to them — we’re just not using them.
And in a social-media laden world where we’re all more-or-less shouting and posturing at each other in the name of self-promotion, we need to be using our words more. I’m convinced more so this week than ever that we’ll miss valuable moments of connection if we don’t.
I’m guilty as anyone, and I’m committing to change. So, without further ado, here’s me being as vulnerable and specific as I can:
The experience at the credit union didn’t make me smile because it’s “just who my mom is” that a student 14 years removed from her class would remember her with only a last name to go off of.
Nope—it warmed my heart because seeing how my mom treats every single one of her former students like her own kids helped me appreciate all the effort she puts into keeping our own family connected. It made me grateful to know that I won’t be forgotten, and neither will my wife, who my mom would go to the ends of the earth for to make feel comfortable in our family. And it made me want to leave a better impression on other people’s lives by giving more willingly of my time and making every person I come into contact with feel special.
None of these things happen by accident; my mom is generous, sacrificial, giving, vulnerable, and full of love because she works at it, wants to be that way and wants people to feel loved—and I love her for being vulnerable with me even during times of my life when I didn’t reciprocate.
It was cathartic to write that about my mom because those are feelings I so often feel poignantly, but for whatever reason, I’m too embarrassed or sheepish to express. But that’s OK; the more we are vulnerable, the better we get at it over time.
Let’s just not forget to practice.
Next time your friend texts you and cancels plans last minute, don’t say “of you course you would, you always do this;” just express how much you’re bummed they won’t be coming and how it won’t be as fun or energetic or easy-going or humorous without them there.
Next time you’re at work, don’t praise a coworker or employee for doing “typically good work”; explain exactly what aspects of a recent project they killed it and what elements of it you thought were especially creative and mind-blowing to you.
And next time your mom invites you to lunch just to make sure you’re doing alright, and you meet one of her former students on the way there, just tell her exactly how much you love her for being your mom.
