This wasn't one of the old movie theaters I grew up with. It was one of those newer theaters where every seat is a large recliner and you can order dinner right from your chair. Mine even had a heated seat, which I quickly decided should become standard in every theater. As we settled into our recliners with our food and drinks, I couldn't help but think how different movie theaters are today. My kids have never experienced sitting in a worn-out seat with gray duct tape wrapped around the armrests while your shoes stuck just a little to the floor every time you shifted your feet. Somehow, that all seemed perfectly normal when I was growing up.
We enjoyed the movie, and when the credits began to roll we gathered our things and started making our way out. I had ordered a cheeseburger during the movie, so I picked up my empty tray along with the bottle of water I'd been drinking. About that time, my son realized he had dropped his phone underneath his recliner. Since the theater was still fairly dark, we all stopped while he reached underneath the chair trying to retrieve it. I leaned over to help, balancing my tray in one hand and my water bottle in the other as I looked under one side of the chair and then the other.
What I didn't realize was that I had taken the lid off my water bottle. Every time I turned from one side to the other, a little wave of water sloshed out of the bottle and landed squarely on my son. The theater was dark enough that I never noticed what I was doing, and apparently he was so focused on finding his phone that he didn't say anything either. By the time we finally found it, I had managed to splash him several different times without having the slightest clue.
As we started walking toward the exit, my daughter was following just behind me. I turned around to say something to her while we were talking, and without realizing it I sent another splash of water flying, this time all over her. She hurried to catch up with me and finally said, "Mom, you don't have the lid on your water bottle."
I looked down and laughed. "Oh! I'm sorry."
In my mind I had probably dripped a few drops of water. I had no idea that for the last several minutes I had essentially been spraying both of my children every time I turned around.
We continued through the lobby, laughing and talking about the movie, and I pushed open one of the heavy glass doors leading outside. Still carrying on the conversation, I walked into the parking lot before realizing that my kids weren't beside me anymore. When I turned around, they were just coming through the doorway.
"Mom," they said, "you slammed the door right in our faces."
Apparently after I walked through, the heavy door had swung back behind me. I never even noticed. I had simply kept walking and talking as though they were right there beside me. Anyone viewing me from the parking lot probably thought I was crazy. That poor woman, they probably said, she has no idea she just took her kids out with a swinging door.
As they caught up with me, I finally looked at them and noticed that both of their shirts had long streaks of water running down the front. Completely confused, I asked, "Why are you two all wet?"
They just looked at me and said in unison.
"Because you threw water all over us!"
At that point the three of us completely lost it. We laughed all the way across the parking lot. My son said, "It's okay, Mom. You just baptized us in the movie theater." My daughter informed me that I was turning into my mother, and I suppose there's probably at least a little truth to that.
The more I thought about that evening, though, the more I realized the funniest part wasn't that I had splashed my kids with water or accidentally let the door swing back into their faces. It was that I had absolutely no idea I was doing any of it. I wasn't trying to make their evening miserable. I wasn't intentionally being inconsiderate. I simply went through the entire experience completely unaware of the effect I was having on the two people walking closest behind me.
As I reflected on that later, I couldn't help but wonder how often I do the same thing in everyday life. We spend so much of our time thinking about the ways other people have hurt us that we rarely stop to ask whether we might be leaving a trail of our own. Maybe our words are a little sharper than we realize. Maybe our impatience splashes onto the people we love most. Maybe we've allowed a door to swing shut behind us without ever noticing who it hit.
It's easy to recognize the water someone else has thrown on us. It's much harder to recognize the water we're throwing on everyone else.
As we laughed about it later that evening, I couldn't help but think about how much of life is lived exactly like that.
Why Does Carelessness Matter?
The water bottle and the swinging door weren't intentional. They made us laugh because I was having one of those classic "Mom moments." I wasn't trying to soak my kids, and I certainly wasn't trying to let a heavy door swing back into their faces. The whole thing happened because I was completely unaware of what I was doing.
The truth is, I think a lot of our relationships work the same way.
Most of us don't wake up in the morning planning to hurt the people we love. We don't set out to be impatient, dismissive, or thoughtless. More often than not, we're simply distracted. We're tired. We're carrying burdens no one else can see. Our minds are already on tomorrow's responsibilities while our bodies are standing in today's conversations. And before we know it, we've splashed someone with our words or allowed a door to swing shut behind us without ever realizing they were standing there.
If I'm being honest, I can quickly make a list of people who have hurt me over the years. I remember the careless words. I remember the doors that seemed to close in my face. I remember the emotional "water" that other people have splashed on me, and if I'm not careful, I can replay those moments over and over again. At certain points in my life, replaying those moments was one of my favorite hobbies.
But as I thought about that evening at the movie theater, another question began to form in my mind.
When was the last time I was the one holding the water bottle?
Figuratively speaking, of course. Literally speaking, it was yesterday.
Who have I accidentally splashed because I wasn't paying attention? Who has quietly absorbed the overflow of my stress or my distraction while I went through life assuming everything was fine? Who have I taken for granted simply because I knew they would love me enough to forgive me?
Sometimes carelessness grows out of exhaustion. Sometimes it comes from stress. Sometimes it comes from trying to juggle too many responsibilities at once. None of those things make us bad people, but they can make us blind to the needs of the people walking closest beside us.
The people who often receive the least of our attention are the very people who deserve the most of it. They're the ones who patiently wait while we're busy. They're the ones we assume will understand. They're the ones we unintentionally put on the back burner because we know they'll still be there tomorrow.
David prayed one of the bravest prayers in all of Scripture:
Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. Psalm 139:23-24
What strikes me about that prayer is that David wasn't simply asking God to forgive the things he already knew about. He was inviting God to reveal the things he couldn't see. That feels much harder.
Most of us already know the areas where we struggle. We know the sins we wrestle with. We know the habits we wish were different and the places where we need God's help. But David was essentially saying, "God, look deeper than I can. Show me what I'm missing."
Show me where I'm careless. Show me where my words have been sharper than I realized. Show me where I've taken someone for granted. Show me where I've been so distracted by my own concerns that I haven't noticed the person standing right beside me. Show me where I'm walking around with the lid off my water bottle.
That's a brave prayer because we may not always like what God brings to our attention. But I think there's also something incredibly freeing about it. We don't have to spend our lives trying to discover every blind spot on our own. We can invite the One who knows us completely to gently show us what we cannot see.
And maybe that's where change begins. Not with becoming more aware of everyone else's faults, but with becoming willing to let God show us our own.
How Do We Create Distance
Isn't it interesting that the people closest to us are usually the ones who get the splash?
And isn't that so unfair?
When my daughter finally caught up with me and said, "Mom, you don't have the lid on your water bottle," she wasn't trying to embarrass me. She wasn't trying to make me feel guilty. She wasn't angry. She was simply trying to stop me from splashing people when I didn't even realize I was doing it.
I wonder if we need to become better listeners when the people closest to us tell us they need more of our attention, more of our time, or simply a little more care. Maybe instead of assuming they're asking for too much, we should pause long enough to consider that perhaps they're trying to point out something we can't see for ourselves.
God does the same thing.
Sometimes He speaks through His Word. Sometimes He gently nudges our hearts during prayer. And sometimes He lovingly speaks through the people who know us best.
Proverbs 27:6 says, "Faithful are the wounds of a friend."
Not every wound is meant to hurt us. Some wounds are meant to heal us.
Sometimes the people who love us the most are willing to risk an awkward conversation because they care more about the relationship than avoiding an uncomfortable moment. They want to be close to us, but they're also trying to tell us that something we're doing is creating distance.
The question is whether we'll listen. Will we become defensive? Will we explain ourselves? Will we tell them they're asking for too much? Will we insist they misunderstood our intentions? Or will we respond the way David did and simply pray, "Lord, if this is true...show me."
So today, instead of asking God to show me who's been splashing water on me, I think I'll ask Him a different question.
Lord, am I carrying around an open water bottle?
And if I am...
Would You lovingly show me before I soak someone else?
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