LIFE LESSONS, RELATIONSHIP, AND CAREER CHOICES

Filling in a happy ending

She married the right man.

I left Amsterdam with clarity about my calling.

We met up before she tied the knot with the other guy — a blip on her radar while in medical school.

I noticed her photo on my feed today — side by side with her husband on a snowmobile in the middle of God knows where.

Clicking and scrolling down her page, I thought she made a good choice, based solely on what I saw in the campfire he built in the snow, the selfie she took of his auburn beard and the tattoo running down his arm, and the Irish shirt he wore on the plane — her version of priceless riches that come from a happy marriage.

As for what I gained in Amsterdam — after a blind date to see Dead Poets Society — I remember boarding the train back to my duty station in Belgium, confident in my future as an educator.

Everyone gets a shot to make life turn out right.

She chose the prestige of a medical profession and the companionship of a husband while I settled into a long career as a teacher and lifelong bachelor.

She took the best option available, and so did I.

One evening at the medical center fitness facility — where I usually played pickup basketball games with med students too stressed out by lectures — I sat out after losing to a better team.

I stretched out my legs, waiting for the next chance to walk off the court with a win. Then, I caught sight of her walking slowly in my direction.

Instead of passing me to head for the water fountain or exit, she casually squatted down right next to me and made small talk about what she saw, though the exact wording faded into the background of sneakers squeaking on the polished wooden court.

“I’ve been watching, and I noticed how you played.”

Call it happenstance or just how life works for those with a clock between their ears, every medical professional I’ve ever dated has made the first move — well before I even considered myself a possibility.

A week later, when her classmate and good friend saw us talking, he walked over between games.

His T-shirt told me that we had pledged the same fraternity, so I skipped the formalities most guys go through, treated him as one of the good dudes, and had a heartfelt chat about his female friend.

He talked up her stellar character and asked me to treat her well, so I stayed well inside the boundaries — even when flipping through the photo album of her family while sitting on her couch.

She married the right guy and seemed content after many years, at least based on how I read her social media page — though the mention of a marriage retreat for a tune-up threw me off at first.

Still just as pretty and fit as that day in the gym, she’s aged exceptionally well, even for someone with genes that refuse to hear the clock. Likewise, her better half has held up his side of the bargain, too, an attractive couple by any standard.

If her feed told the whole story, her faith has remained just as unshakable as the day she plopped down beside me on the basketball court. I trust that might explain why she made such good use of her brainpower to find plenty of treasures in the here and now — including that fountain of youthful vibrancy so many grow out of after years of marriage.

She had a lot going for her — along with favor in a higher realm — perhaps the most precious commodity one can ever acquire.

Having exceeded my quota of four minutes on social media — just long enough to type ‘Happy Birthday’ to a handful of acquaintances before posting my daily inspirational message — I clicked over to my usual programs for a Saturday morning.

One sermon to Gen-Exers followed by the same sermon to an older audience.

Doubling up gives me a leg up on getting past my hidden bias — that inner critic that likes to point a finger at the drummer playing like a rock star or singers modeling for the catwalk.

Midway through the service, the pastor stepped on stage and started with an anecdotal story that perked up my ears, particularly once he mentioned the film Dead Poets Society.

From that point on, I stayed glued to the smartphone screen — mostly because of a fond memory of what happened in Amsterdam many years ago.

Just as Robin Williams — the unorthodox teacher at a private school — had rubbed up against tradition and paid a price, a similar thing happened when that holy carpenter upset the curriculum of the Pharisees.

In both cases — whether in the ancient script or the movie scene — once the quiet part of how to truly live spilled into public view, colder hearts filled with the bitter sting of rebuke and all hell broke loose.

“How dare you!”

One fired.

One crucified.

The final scenes of those two pivotal moments — as authority struck back against a teacher and a troublemaker — featured either a silent tribute or a thunderclap for emphasis.

Why would anyone follow in those footsteps after seeing how things came to a sudden end?

Naive, enthusiastic, and still highly impressionable, I walked out of that movie in Amsterdam with my mind made up. I had discovered my career passion, along with a template for my teaching style.

Welcome to the world of side eyes, administrative emails, and a slightly thicker personnel file.

Unlike the main character in that Hollywood hit, I somehow dodged getting a pink slip — though I had a rough go for a year or so.

Try leading a class full of teens to sit beneath the pine canopy for a lesson and see how far that gets in this era of lockdowns in schools.

One year, just before turning in my grades for a long summer vacation in Europe, I sat quietly behind my desk while students filled in bubbles on the Scantron form and wrote out brief answers to questions on the final exam.

The sound of pencils scribbling filled my ears for over an hour. Then, I heard a ruckus of desks moving, so my teacher’s radar went off, my ears perked up, and I held back tears at what I witnessed — the most precious and pleasant experience I ever encountered as an educator.

Every single student in the classroom stood atop their desks, looking down from a different perspective — they had internalized the message of that film I saw in Amsterdam.

Later, paging through the yearbook, I paused on the page dedicated to the teacher the senior class thought had made a difference.

That precious and pleasant memory kept me inspired until the day I retired and wrote my own curriculum for a happy ending, even as a single guy.

How have you filled your heart with priceless treasures?

fill — male or mala

Or malae {maw-law’}; a primitive root, to fill or be full of — accomplish, be at an end, fulfill, (over-)flow, fullness, furnish, replenish, satisfy, set.

Source: KJV Proverbs 24:1–34 (4.1)

“And by knowledge shall the chambers be filled with all precious and pleasant riches.”

The Priceless Treasure was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

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The Priceless Treasure