I’m a little girl standing on tip-toes to peer into the shiny case in front of me. I can hardly believe my eyes.
Mint chocolate chip.
I point at last and my selection comes to me on that wonder of wonders–the waffle cone.
My friend picks something else. I shrug my shoulders, not my flavor. It doesn’t change our friendship. It doesn’t make me look at her differently. It doesn’t cause me to sit at a table across the room.
Yet somehow as we grow up, we can forget to approach life that way.
We make our choices and then declare that the whole world must love Mint Chocolate Chip as much as we do. If they don’t, we dismiss or belittle or try to persuade.
But here’s the deal: it’s just not our flavor of ice cream.
Now, I’m not talking about absolute truth here. That’s a whole different post. I’m talking about preferences. Things that make up who we are that really have no black and white answers.
Whether we’re a night owl or morning lark.
Introvert or extrovert.
What kind of music we like.
The style of home decor we prefer.
Even some of the ways we pursue our faith.
When we run into someone or something who’s not our flavor of ice cream we tend to ask one of two questions: What’s wrong with me? or What’s wrong with them?
But neither one is helpful…or even necessary.
Instead we need to find that little girl inside us again–the one who saw past flavors to the heart. Then we can shrug our shoulders and say, “Oh, well, not my flavor of ice cream.” So we sit down at the table again and embrace each other anyway.
Because we’re really more alike than different.
People are always more important than preferences.
And, it’s love that makes life truly sweet.