So how was your weekend? I have to admit that all the rapture talk was good for a giggle. Hopefully many of you were able to embrace the idea of living like there's no tomorrow.
Unfortunately for some of our neighbors and fellow citizens in Joplin, MO, it was not a happy or relaxing weekend. My thoughts are with those who are currently healing, grieving, and surviving in the midst of disaster.
There was an interesting story on NPR this morning discussing how President Obama is forced to balance priorities when it comes to planned events vs. sudden disasters. It's an interesting predicament: the President has a planned trip to Ireland. Hours before his scheduled departure, the tornadoes hit Joplin, MO. What to do? Stay and manage the crisis "up close" or proceed as scheduled and manage from a distance, reporting for a personal visit upon his return to the States?
This is not a situation unique to the Obama administration. Presidents through the years (in fact, all leaders from Heads of State to local mayors) are constantly forced to maintain balance in their governmental agenda. I do not envy anyone who is required as part of their job description to exercise this level of discernment. It's a challenging business.
What resonated with me the most about this news report was a quote from Gordon Johndroe, a former spokesman for the Bush administration. He says:
If you haven't realized this already, here's something you should know about the grief process: you (rightfully so) become a little self-absorbed. When Charlotte was in and out of the hospital with her many treatments, it was the single most important aspect of my life. When I found rare opportunities to walk away from it (a run to the grocery store, a few hours at work, a night out with "the girls") I would catch myself in amazement. There were people in the world who had no idea what was going on in my life. (How could that be???) Of course, we had an amazing network of friends and family who followed our every move through our blog. These people were "in the know" and behaved as such, giving us time to talk (or not) when we wanted to, cry (or not) when we wanted to, or just be in the moment.
But there were many people who didn't know: this woman's daughter is dying of cancer. Sometimes I marveled at the simple fact that the world just kept spinning. I wanted to stop and scream (in the middle of Target):
These feelings continued after Charlotte's death. In fact, while they have abated somewhat, even now I sometimes feel that self-centered tug of grief wondering at how the world can be so clueless.
The reality is this: we all have our own shit to deal with.
That doesn't mean that we have to go it alone. There is a purpose and a place for comfort in grief. There is a role that the community plays in helping us heal. We rely on that community to help in ways both tangible and intangible. It also means, however, that I can't assume that I am the center and immediate priority of everyone else's universe. I lost a daughter in January of last year but on Sunday someone else lost their mother...their brother...their cousin. In your neighborhood, someone else has a close friend battling mental illness. One of your coworkers is spending her weekends caring for her mother suffering from Alzheimer's disease. A member of your church is worrying about how to pay their ever-growing mound of bills after two years of unemployment.
We find comfort in helping others through their grief. We find empathy in knowing that we are not alone in our suffering. We are more gentle with our friends, neighbors, and colleagues when they fly off the handle or struggle to "keep it together"...because we've all been there. Or at some point we will be there as well and we would hope for the same kindness.
We grieve. We struggle. We survive. Together. And the world keeps spinning....
Unfortunately for some of our neighbors and fellow citizens in Joplin, MO, it was not a happy or relaxing weekend. My thoughts are with those who are currently healing, grieving, and surviving in the midst of disaster.
There was an interesting story on NPR this morning discussing how President Obama is forced to balance priorities when it comes to planned events vs. sudden disasters. It's an interesting predicament: the President has a planned trip to Ireland. Hours before his scheduled departure, the tornadoes hit Joplin, MO. What to do? Stay and manage the crisis "up close" or proceed as scheduled and manage from a distance, reporting for a personal visit upon his return to the States?
This is not a situation unique to the Obama administration. Presidents through the years (in fact, all leaders from Heads of State to local mayors) are constantly forced to maintain balance in their governmental agenda. I do not envy anyone who is required as part of their job description to exercise this level of discernment. It's a challenging business.
What resonated with me the most about this news report was a quote from Gordon Johndroe, a former spokesman for the Bush administration. He says:
"When you're sitting at home in Missouri or Louisiana, or wherever you may be, and you're faced with serious devastation because of a natural disaster, and you see your president traveling overseas, you wonder, 'Why is he away and not paying attention to my problems here at home?' "
Here's what struck me the most about this statement: the same can be applied to many of us in the midst of any grieving process.
If you haven't realized this already, here's something you should know about the grief process: you (rightfully so) become a little self-absorbed. When Charlotte was in and out of the hospital with her many treatments, it was the single most important aspect of my life. When I found rare opportunities to walk away from it (a run to the grocery store, a few hours at work, a night out with "the girls") I would catch myself in amazement. There were people in the world who had no idea what was going on in my life. (How could that be???) Of course, we had an amazing network of friends and family who followed our every move through our blog. These people were "in the know" and behaved as such, giving us time to talk (or not) when we wanted to, cry (or not) when we wanted to, or just be in the moment.
But there were many people who didn't know: this woman's daughter is dying of cancer. Sometimes I marveled at the simple fact that the world just kept spinning. I wanted to stop and scream (in the middle of Target):
"DON'T YOU PEOPLE REALIZE THAT SHE'S DYING!?!?!?"
These feelings continued after Charlotte's death. In fact, while they have abated somewhat, even now I sometimes feel that self-centered tug of grief wondering at how the world can be so clueless.
The reality is this: we all have our own shit to deal with.
That doesn't mean that we have to go it alone. There is a purpose and a place for comfort in grief. There is a role that the community plays in helping us heal. We rely on that community to help in ways both tangible and intangible. It also means, however, that I can't assume that I am the center and immediate priority of everyone else's universe. I lost a daughter in January of last year but on Sunday someone else lost their mother...their brother...their cousin. In your neighborhood, someone else has a close friend battling mental illness. One of your coworkers is spending her weekends caring for her mother suffering from Alzheimer's disease. A member of your church is worrying about how to pay their ever-growing mound of bills after two years of unemployment.
We find comfort in helping others through their grief. We find empathy in knowing that we are not alone in our suffering. We are more gentle with our friends, neighbors, and colleagues when they fly off the handle or struggle to "keep it together"...because we've all been there. Or at some point we will be there as well and we would hope for the same kindness.
We grieve. We struggle. We survive. Together. And the world keeps spinning....
Amazing viewpoint, from an amazing mom and person.
ReplyDeleteMy friend, you are the best kept secret on the Internet. We have to do something about this because a voice this amazing should be heard by everyone. BEAUTIFUL post.
ReplyDelete