Your Mother’s the Secret Bastard Child of Mother Theresa
Fortunate for you, I haven’t left you fending for yourself under a bridge with nothing other than the pungent smell of your heaving diaper, a sloppy pacifier and your talons for nails to protect you. Though I’ve contemplated this on several an occasion, your semi-tooth grin and sparkling eyes have a clever way of melting me into gooey pile of love every time.
That said, not everyone is as lucky as you honey; and because your mom believes she’s the secret bastard child of Mother Theresa, it’s almost impossible for me to walk away from someone in need. Whether that someone is in pain, vulnerable, scared or simply hungry, I’m bound and determined to find a way to help them.
“Can you please help me?” he stuttered with outstretched hands covered in dirt and open sores. “Please, I just need a few coins for food. Please.”
Wrapping your mouth and nose in the cup of your hands, you stare deep in curiosity and hesitation. Even you, Mica, were unsure where he stood on our scale of “to help or not to help”.
“I’m very sorry, I can’t.” I respond taking a split second to look at him in the eyes. “Come on Mica, let’s get you home for your bath,” I sing, trying to remove myself from the situation as quickly as possible.
“Please miss, don’t go. I’m hungry. I’m just asking for twenty cents for a piece of bread. That’s it. Please don’t leave.”
His voice broke, and so did my heart. A deep empty sadness resonated inside me as I questioned my values, my knee-jerk reaction to run. This was a guy with a semi’s worth of issues and the last thing I wanted was to get involved. I told myself he’s dirty, germ filled and most likely insane — a strung out meth addict who wanted money — but the opposing side put on her prize-fighting gloves and broke out a novel’s worth of reasons why I needed to reconsider.
Stopping the stroller, watching you move yourself forward to get a prime look at the situation, I turned and peered into his eyes. Crusty with sleep, his cracked and dry lips parted into a smile. His eyes brightened, if only a little, to show that he was delighted that I was looking at him, not around him, not through him, but at him. I was present, listening, caring.
“Please…”
Pulling my wallet out of my bag, I dropped two twenty cent coins into his palms, as they snapped shut like a Venus Flytrap. Opening his hands once again to prove the coin’s existence — two brightly colored metal disks as real as the dusty jacket draped over his shoulders — he smiled, turned and said thank you as he sauntered off into the bakery across the street.
You cooed as he left, waving your palm high above your head as if to say, “Good luck dude! Hope you get a warm piece of crusty bread in your belly soon!” I kiss you on the forehead, and we start off toward home.
Life Lesson:
Mica, there are so many lessons to take from this, I’m not entirely sure where to begin. So let’s cover the biggie and leave the others for another time.
Each and every moment of the day, you will be presented with situations similar to that which you’ve experienced before. They will look and feel the same, but quite honestly, they never are. Every moment is unique. Every moment presents a different set of circumstances. Hence, every moment should be taken for what it is, an opportunity to grow. Unfortunately, we are creatures of habit and when something looks similar to something we’ve seen before, we react in a way that automatically protects us. This form of protection might not serve us in the least, but as we’re human, we do it anyway.
Honey the challenge is not to turn on your body’s automatic pilot feature. Notice how I immediately said “no” because I assumed he was a threat? I judged, distanced and ostracized him based on my own assumptions and fears. Instead of stopping to assess the situation, I simply said “no” and ran.
Now, this is not to say that there isn’t a time and place to hightail it out of there, but in this case, my instinct immediately said, “look, listen, feel”. It wasn’t until the second round of groveling that I allowed the discomfort to come in, the fear to subside and the empathy to take hold.
I can only hope that when you feel yourself closing down to switch on “automatic pilot” you’ll stop. Take a moment to understand what you might be afraid of, what you don’t want to feel. Breathe and reflect, don’t automatically react. Unless you feel your life is in danger, allow those feelings of awkwardness, vulnerability and discomfort to rise to the surface and accept them. You may not be able to change the situation, or even make it better, but at least you’re feeling, and isn’t that what this whole human experience is all about?
Photo by mark O’Rourke
