You know my name,
not my story.
You see my smile,
not my pain.
You notice my cuts,
not my scars.
You can read my lips,
not my mind.
About a year and a half ago, shortly after my grandson was diagnosed with lymphoma, (he’s fine now, thank God), my daughter and I were in a store picking up some things she needed. We looked like everyone else in the store, going about our business as if everything was normal. People who may have noticed or spoken to us could not possibly know what our lives were like at that time. The uncertainty, the shock, the pain. The feeling of wanting to breathe but not remembering how. To everyone else, we looked like everyone else.
Everyday, we sit next to cars at traffic lights, not knowing if those people are on their way to work, or a doctor’s office for test results. Not knowing if they’re going to visit a dying relative or attend a wake. We speak with people who work at their jobs, especially in the service field, and wonder why they’re not very friendly. Co-workers may be having a personal crisis they choose not to share and be withdrawn or distant. Some may become argumentative or angry.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that we all have moments in our lives when life just doesn’t seem fair. We struggle to get out of bed sometimes and face what’s in front of us. We hope people are kind that day, even if they don’t know or understand our pain.
Kindness and understanding are the best hugs you can give someone.
We’ll all need a little of both at some point in our lives. If we understand that simple fact, then why not return the favor or set the example for others. Give that person who may not be in the best mood the benefit of the doubt. Don’t assume the worst of people without understanding the reason for their behavior.
Kindness and understanding.
It’s really not that hard.