on being nice

I've been thinking this over a bit since we discussed -- or had a pre-emptory discussion of -- the Sermon on the Mount yesterday.
We were first asked to throw out traits that the successful people in this world seemed to have. Then we were asked what traits the Sermon on the Mount held in high esteem. One person pointed out, quite rightly I think, that they're not necessarily mutually exclusive.
I simply said that being "nice" was a trait we should have, if we're in line with what Jesus was talking about. And while I don't purport to have that all straight, I guess I would like to elaborate a little.
As I might have mentioned, "Nice" has been a key term around our household, oh, since Lizzy could understand language (a year and a half or so?). It's the lingo at her day care. Because, of course, we can't say the kids are "bad" or "good." I assume that would be deemed damaging to their ego. So, if they smack some kid upside the head, or bite them in the back, or steal their toy, they have been "not nice."
"Nice" is how I feel I am after I have spent time in God's presence. Now that I'm a mom, I have startlingly little time there. Or, to be more honest, I TAKE startlingly little time there. It's just easier, in a "there's so much to do" sense, to let it slip. But anyway, when I do get around to it -- to spending a bit of time with my creator -- I feel such a peace and okay-ness with the world. Well, not with the world -- which sucks, frankly, for the most part -- but with my place in it. I have the certainty, also, that it will all be all right. No matter what, it will all be all right. A peace that passes understanding. And the little things just don't matter so much. Someone wants into my lane when I'm driving? Come on over. Plenty of room. Someone steps on my foot on the metro? Actually, this one never bothers me any more. After being smacked in the face (accidentally or on purpose), or having one's hair pulled mercilessly, or any number of more invasive (I'll spare you) injuries inflicted by one's infant/toddler, who gives a rip about a little inadvertent foot-stomp. I just seem to love the world -- people, that is -- a little more. Feel grateful for being alive. For what I have, which is a lot.
But my point in all this is, what happened this morning. And what has happened more often than I'm comfortable with lately. My hyper little angel, who is so often the source of, or the reason for, immense joy, can be quite the stinker at the day care. I understand that she doesn't really want to go. I do believe that she has a lot of fun while she's there, and she certainly learns a lot. As far as I'm concerned, I wish I could have her at home. And maybe that will be possible for the next kid, whenever he/she comes along. And maybe, I'm being overly romantic about how great it would be to be home with her/him/them. Maybe I really WOULD go insane. But, when we get to day care some days, Lizzy pulls a really sour face and glares at the other kids. There are a couple of really sweet girls who come up and try to greet us sometimes. (actually, I know one's mother, and she tells me what a stinker she can be at home. So it makes me feel a tiny modicum better... But she always looks sweet when I see her.) But Lizzy says, "I don't WANT to say hi!" Really, how hard is it to say hi? To smile and pretend to be polite? I know, I know. I'm talking about a 2-year-old. I just wish she'd try. She'd understand that it doesn't take much effort, and it might make someone else feel really good.
Then again, I don't want to project all my people-pleasing issues on her quite yet. Plenty of time for that.
I just want to be a nice person. As someone pointed out on Sunday, we don't earn our way to heaven in ANY way. Certainly not by being nice. I know that. But, I think it DOES please God when we try. Try not to get to heaven, but try to help his other creatures feel a little better. Be a bit of salve to them, instead of a red hot poker in their eye. And, no, I'm not gonna be some freak who smiles at people on the metro. But maybe some days I can be the one who doesn't snap back at someone who snaps at me first. Or, worse yet, be the first one.
But that's still sort of pretending to love people, instead of actually loving them. I'm just beginning to even try to figure that one out.