I’m not very good at drawing.

For my fifth grader, time together and alone is the greatest of joys.  

Last night I had been reading my book quietly on the couch.  After a long day I wanted the hours to melt off me and go elsewhere in those pages.  Within a few lines of my read my youngest son walked up with a stack of scrap paper and a large library book asking if I would draw figures from the book with him.  I’m not very good at drawing but we sat poured over paper and pencils in multiple attempts.

This morning as we talked in the few minutes we share before he heads off to school I asked if the drawing book needed to go back to school.  He nodded and gave me something unexpected.  It was more than the hug and sweet whisper; it was what he said.

“Thanks for drawing with me last night,” smiled Kaden

“I don’t know I am the best person to draw with you, Sweetie.  Mommy isn’t very good at that.”

“You are the best person to draw with me.  I know that no matter how I draw you will never make fun of me and still love me.”  These were warm heartfelt true words from my sweet boy. 

I almost crushed him I squeezed him so tight!  It would be my deepest wish that he would always feel that secure in my adoration and respect for him.  I’m not very good at drawing.  I’m feeling good about the loving.

That comes in a body spray too,....

For many years I had a Fun-job at the mall.  You know what a fun-job is; a extra job you take for a time to enjoy the place and the added cash.  As a young mother who was absent from her previous career I decided it would be fun to talk to adults at the mall in one of those good smelling lotion shops  that sell soaps and candles too.  I was not a big consumer myself before working there but I had one product I’d been buying and was open to learning more. 

Soon I was immersed into smells of all kinds, learning about nutrients and moisture levels, and fragrance layering.  I fixated on every product detail and spent half (surely it was only half!) of my paycheck right there on those products.  On the holidays any family member received items in cute plastic bottles with sweet scents carefully selected for them.  This really was a fun job.

There was always a sale.  Whenever I had been in the store before as a customer I never bought the sale.  I missed out!  Check out this amazing offer I’d say, with all sincerity.  If I could help another woman get extra products for free by encouraging one more item I’d be elated.  If I helped a buyer carefully chose her gift items in a way that she could get a bonus item for her for free it was exciting.  When a guy came strolling in saying “..she wears the pink one,” in an lost and absent stare, I took the man under my wing and asked questions until we uncovered which of the three “pink” bottles she might want.  His girl wanted to be noticed and I’d grin over the chance to help him offer her that delight.

I’m not a salesperson.  I hate smarmy.  I’m not out to beat anyone, I detest crushing my co-workers goals when I hit mine; though I love to hit mine.  I’m not interested in taking anyone’s money for the sake of the sale.  I always said every lip balm was a future gift basket customer.  I hoped to never make a pressured transaction, and my goal was to enjoy the process.  More than one lady asked me; “Are you on commissioned sales?”  Taking it as a mercy flag over a filled basket I’d reply, “Wow.  No, I’m just enthusiastic about the stuff!”  I believed I wasn’t selling; I was passionate.

There were countless times was I was selling in that job.  To me I was selling the confidence I had in those products, the joy I felt in the good smelliness, the enhancement to that guy’s relationship, the treat back to the lady who wanted to buy a gift for her boss, the savings to the college student scraping by, and value to the company who was giving me a place to meet people and have fun.  Yes I sold.  I sold soaps, lotions and even candles.  I think the reason it was a fun-job though was because it wasn’t about selling.

Sometimes people will say they’re not in sales.  In my mind I think that person isn't passionate about anything to offer.  If I have a passion, a real joy for something I want to share it with you.  In the case at the mall, I happened to wear a name badge and get a smidge more than minimum wage while doing it.