I admit that I am an optimist, and most of the time I believe this is a positive personality attribute – I do look on the “bright side” and try to always see the joy in all situations, but perhaps this gives me a skewed view of the world. There are some instances when it is important to recognize and acknowledge another’s pain or struggle and not try to minimize it or encourage them to look beyond it.
It’s a humbling experience to first recognize and then admit to yourself that you are much more fortunate than others. Some people believe this “fortune” to be the result of blind luck; for others it is the result of hard work, family connections, or simply blessings from a higher power. This week my realization has been that it doesn’t matter why you are more fortunate; the important part is acknowledging that you are and showing up when you’re needed.
Growing up in a middle class family in a market town in England, I always knew I was fortunate. While we never had expensive holidays abroad, we lived relatively comfortably and my parents worked hard to ensure we had opportunities for cultural, social and intellectual growth. And despite my parents’ divorce and many teenage dramas, I always felt surrounded by emotional support and lots and lots of love.
This is not a blog post about the widening gap between rich and poor in America – I promised myself from the beginning that this blog would never address potentially inflammatory political issues – or even a diatribe about third world debt, government corruption and the terrible subsistence poverty that persists across the globe. Today’s post is about the some of the simple things I have noticed over the past few weeks, and the “jolt” they have given me, forcing me to put my own petty anxieties in perspective and to be grateful for what I have.
A couple of weeks ago I spent some time talking to someone I know who is bringing up several grandchildren as their parents are in jail. I’ve always known her a cheerful, friendly individual, a hard worker who never complained or verbalized her frustrations. Getting a sudden inside view of the skill it takes to balance two jobs, five grandchildren and maintain a positive outlook on life was eye-opening.
Recently a local police officer was killed and others wounded in a shoot-out following a domestic disturbance. Although I have no connections to the individuals involved, many people in my relatively small town know the officers or the shooter and their families and the impact of this tragedy cuts across the community.
Another sobering incident occurred just a few miles up the road when a girl was shot and killed at a beloved and busy butcher’s/farm shop by someone with seemingly no motive. That bright cheerful 19 year old will never know the joys of adulthood.
Plus a couple of my dearest friends are battling health concerns and others are struggling with serious marital issues or financial trouble. I am so thankful to come home at the end of a long day to a husband who wants to snuggle with me on the sofa and listen to stories about my day.
One of my greatest desires is to have a positive influence on others. I had the tendency to believe that the way to accomplish this feat was to constantly maintain an aura of cheer and good humor around everyone; to be a cheerleader for people’s lives.
But often during times of stress and sadness, people don’t want a cheerleader or a motivator. They want someone who will simply show up to listen or with a casserole for dinner. They don’t want advice or your opinion. They don’t want to hear stories of what other people did in their situation. They don’t want to you to ask “What can I do?”; they want you to know what to do. So just show up! Listen. Bring dinner. Clean their bathrooms. Take their children out for the afternoon. Cut their grass. Hold them tight and pass the tissues.
I am so fortunate – I have a number of Chosen Few individuals who will show up for me, if and when I need them. And it’s a privilege to be there for them. I wish it didn’t take the recent jolt of perspective for me to realize it.
My Chosen Few 