Really Look at Each Other

Few people look at you to really see who you are. Though I was not expecting it, I was nevertheless prepared for such an eye exchange between myself and a young man at the cafeteria of a Midwestern college some time ago. I was there to spend some precious time with our former foreign exchange student, then a junior.

Immediately upon being introduced to this young man, he looked at me as if he wanted something from me. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but I slowly realized that this would be an unasked for, but not to be denied mentoring moment.

Looking around the large boisterous eating space, I sensed a teeming vulnerability, as young people to my right and left were intent on establishing something essential about themselves. I had forgotten how intense college life can be, and how sensitive we are to fellow students—at least I sure was in my undergraduate days. We are attempting to determine who we are and where we belong. And while we will not receive the final answer from our college classmates, they can nevertheless have an enormous and long-lasting impact on our sense of identity and esteem.

I said to this young man, “This cafeteria sure brings back memories of my college days.”

With serious interest on his face, he asked: “And what do you think?”

I thought about differing answers that I would have given him at differing times in my life. There was a time that I would have very much wanted to go back and relive my college days, especially if I could take with me some of the knowledge I subsequently gained.

But that is not where I am any longer; I am enjoying where I am, and would not want to start all over again. What I now feel is compassion for our young people and what they have ahead of them. This is a very tough time to be a young person in our culture.

I answered, “What do I think? I think I am glad I am past my college days. At the same time, I think that it was all worth it, that I am thankful I went through it.”

Apparently, that was what he wanted to hear. Looking right at me with a sensed earnestness that indicated much forethought and struggle, he said, “Are you sure? Was it really worth it?”

I answered with confidence, “Oh, yes, it was all worth it. Even the difficult and painful times, once you are past them, will likely become sources of blessing. I mean, you can look back and say, ‘Wow, I was sure fully alive through this or that.’ Yeah, in hindsight these are good times, well worth it.”

He seemed to be needing to hear what I was saying. But as if to make very sure he understood me, while looking carefully at me, as if to gauge my real feelings, he said, “I hope you are right.”

Looking unblinkingly back at him, I said, “I’m sure I am right. Enjoy these days. Trust me, it gets easier!”

Then not only this man, but another young man sitting to my left, who it turned out had been listening quietly yet intently to our exchange, responded with earnestness: “I sure hope you are right!”