Everything is a Museum

Two weeks ago I had the pleasure of taking the kids from Visitation House to a local park.  While the kids (ages 7,8,10 and 12) have often been to this park, I thought it would be fun just to get out.  I had a 50% success rate.  The 12 year old was "too cool" for the park and sat on a bench by herself.  Teenagers.  The 10 year old and 8 year old, on the other hand, were thrilled.  They brought their favorite toys, stuffed animals, a football and even changed shoes.  While sitting outside by the pool (this park has an beautiful outdoor pool shaded by trees that arch over it), I overheard this conversation:

JP (picks up a twig): "Look at this!"

Mariela (less than impressed) "It's only a stick."

JP:  "It's not just a stick, it has a centipede on it.  It's a museum." 

Mariela: "It's not a museum!"

JP: "Yes it is.  Everything is a museum."

Upon hearing this, I tilted my head while a baffled look came cross my face.  It got me thinking about my mindset when I walk into museums.  For me, museums are like a playhouse.  They are filled with an immense amount of knowledge that is within my reach.  They are places that can leave me feeling impressed, awed or even shocked.  Museums invite me to step inside another world, even if only for a short time. I walk into museums excited about what I can learn.  What if I looked at the world with the same mindset?  Wouldn’t everything seem novel, more enjoyable and simply waiting for me to discover it all?

As I thought about what JP had said, I tried to look at my day-to-day occurrences with a new light.  I noticed myself paying attention more to the little things in life.  People, as odd as it sounds, were exhibits.  At dinner one night, Sister Lettie displayed the movements and sounds of screaming bats as she shared about her life in Zambia and the "bat party" in her attic.  I saw a special on intercultural dialogue as two of my co-workers, one Irish and the other Mexican American, discussed how the tortilla is equivalent to the potato; you can do just about anything with these staples.  Likewise, I was privileged to hear the first-hand account of one of the children here.  She told me she went to 6 different schools in one year and vividly described several different shelters she had been to.  I felt honored to have shared moments such as these with my community members who range greatly in age and in background.  As I listen to them, I am encouraged me to revisit the museums of their lives, allowing me to deepen my understanding of their worlds.  

Angelique Snyder, Incarnate Word Missionary