Does Your Heart Belong in a Museum?

Wheresoever you go, go with all your

My blind date with Alex started out promising. We met at the Field Museum with plans to see the World’s Fair exhibit. But forget the exhibit. I was looking at him, because he was cute. 

Unfortunately, after a short stroll through the gallery, Alex’s phone started buzzing. And he answered it. Twice.

Now if he had been a brain surgeon or even a plumber, I could maybe understand that he had to take this call! But he owned a software company, and there was no look of panic that someone’s hard drive was melting down. There was no explanation at all. And no apology.

Instead, I stood in the cavernous lobby studying the fascinating air above my head while his second phone call went on several minutes. Finally I sauntered over to Sue, the T-Rex, and started grumbling to her about rude, self-important men.

Later, (yes, I stuck it out another hour) I couldn’t help replaying the scene. I wished I had walked over to Sue and then kept walking right out the front door. I wondered what it would have felt like to listen to my heart.

It’s great to be polite, to try new things, and go with the flow. But how often have I sacrificed my own time, energy — my very heart — for fear of bruising someone else’s heart?

Maybe all our hearts would be stronger and in less need of protection if we put them first, if we vowed to live every moment whole-heartedly.

Full, warm, uncompromising hearts — that’s an exhibit I’d pay to see.