Left Unanswered...

I don't recall the exact day that I suddenly woke up and realized that this was not where I thought I would be at this stage in my life. I do recall, however, the pure shock in the awakening it gave me. That awe inspiring moment when you step back from the mirror, having noticed you have suddenly grown older, and attempt to count the goals you once made for yourself that you still have not yet reached.

I have achieved many accomplishments in my life, many of them having never come from those past goals, but rather by happenstance of where my time as led me. I am proud of my accomplishments and do not feel regret for having allowed myself to be led down different paths, but those goals still linger in my mind as unachieved desires left hanging in the balance.  Were it due to outside influences, relationships, finances, sacrifices made for children, or simply not being in the right places at the times I have found that I always seem to have a reason.  Therefore, these goals have been crying out to me as unanswered.

I am positive I am not the only one who has ever had this awakening, nor the only one who finds the perfect excuse for not having met their goals.  I say this is a tragedy. I say this is a reason for a whole new goal...to begin to set aside blaming all other reasons, stop making excuses that readily come to mind when we run into walls,  and simply push forward in the journey to reach each and every one of them.

  

Trust First or Trust Last?

There are two types of people in this world, those who instinctively trust someone right from the start, giving them the full benefit of the doubt, and those who believe that everyone should be mistrusted until they have proved themselves trustworthy.  Neither is wrong, but I believe the latter is the sad reality of the society we've grown to know.  Far too often people are untrustworthy and prove it on a daily basis giving way to no one ever being able to fully trust anyone any more.

There is something in each of us that determines which category we will fall under; the way we've been raised, the experiences we had, or just the complex natural make up of who we are. Some start out one way and throughout their lives find themselves on the other side and others do not allow their pasts to break their trusting nature. Experience goes a long way in that respect. 

If you spend your lifetime never trusting anyone I believe that would be a very lonely existence. I, for one, do not want to live my life always looking over my shoulder for the possibilities of what "could happen".  I enjoy living in each moment and seeing where that takes me. Most of the time I am pleasantly engulfed in all new wondrous adventures while gaining lifetime friendships with people who do maintain my trust. For those few who have proven themselves untrustworthy, "I'm sorry, what were your names again?", the insignificance of who you were has me at a loss.

The Ride...

At last, perhaps another story of hope, in this ever growing cynical world of ours. For years I have watched society turn against itself to where even the thought of giving a stranger a ride on a dark cold night frightens us. All the horrible things can happen because society, as a whole, has turned into a world of racial hatred, cultural ignorance, and instilled fear. When once our generation had been raised to understand the ignorance and cruelty of hating we now watch as our children judge one another even for something as trivial as what clothing they wear in school. It's become almost common. But, in some small way and every now and then, certain people shine through and prove that to be "common" and to conform to what society has deemed "a way of life" does not have to be.

A friend of mine, while driving home one evening, came across a woman obviously in need of assistance. As I am sure some resolute of caution surged through his veins he still put aside all that "could" go wrong and opted for what he felt was "right". He stopped and offered her a ride. Thankful for the lift the journey went without negative incident.  They spoke briefly along the way, arrive at her destination, they exchanged pleasantries of "thank yous" and "your welcomes", and he went about his venture home. 

Sadly, as heartfelt as this gesture already is, it hurts me to say that I need to remark about the truer reason this story has meaning. Each time I've told it to someone I know they were pleasantly pleased with the thought of this gesture, until I mention that the man was Caucasian and the woman was African American and that he was not on, what has been deemed "his side of the tracks", but rather on "her side of town". I watch as a pleasant smile, upon the faces of those I've told, turn to shock and then surprise at this notion. It hardens my heart to see how much more meaning it appears to generate simply by adding the description of the differences between them. What difference should it make? What deeper meaning should it have simply because they were of different color or gender or from opposite sides of town?  

The meaning behind this gesture to me is simple. He put aside whatever fears society has put into his head about the neighborhood and ethnicity to which she was born and she put aside the fears that have been instilled in her about this man being not of her color or walk of life. They saw through the "common" way of thinking and traveled back in time to the "right" way of thinking. They were not people with tense emotions about what they've been taught about each other, they were a man and a woman sharing a few moments in time being human beings. 

Wrong Number, Right On...

While sitting at my computer today, having an internet conversation with a friend, I heard the distinct "ping" of my phone indicating I had received a text. I pick it up to find an odd number and a message from someone I didn't know.  The text read, "I am in a dental chair...have to get a crown...yippee."  Puzzled as to which one of my friends must have changed their number, thus showing up as someone I didn't know, I sent a return text with a simple, "Who is this?"  Again, a few seconds later, my phone announced a new text that read, "Sorry, wrong number."  At this point I could have simply left it at that, but I thought (why not make a simple gesture to brighten someone's day) and sent one last text that read, "LOL That's ok. I don't know you, but I hope your dental visit wasn't too unpleasant. Have a good day!"  In exchange this message appeared, "lol...it was quite nice...thank you! That was cool.  You too!" 

All too often I think society has completely forgotten the little gestures of simple kindness that I remember surrounding me as a child. Did it take any time out of my day to reach out to someone I don't even know and put a small smile on their face? No, it didn't. Am I now suffering from the feeling of wasted time or lost moments spent typing a message out like that. No, I am not.  Do I feel good knowing that this person seemed genuinely pleased that a complete happenstance of a wrong number brought her a stranger who showed compassion. Absolutely!

If I truly think about it...

Yesterday I found myself complaining, yet again, about a neighbor's dog who is constantly left outside to bark repeatedly for hours at a time. It's a nuisance and, in my opinion, just plain rude for the neighbor not to care who it bothers. I will not go into detail as to the annoyance this causes, nor the attempts that have been made to resolve this issue, because it is not the goal of my thoughts on this matter. Suffice it to say, it was what I considered quite irritating, thus my venting to family and friends about it.

What I realized, beyond my complaints of it earlier in the day, is something I had not thought of until I viewed an elderly man with what appeared to be his granddaughter at the market later that evening. I rounded an isle where they were standing together. The swift, but gracefully movements of her hands and his eyes, diligently mindful of her movements, caught my attention. Sign language. Looking on, I ease dropped, for a lack of a better way to describe it, and "listened" to her words to him.  "There is a cart with a squeaky wheel, a little boy crying, and an announcement paging a manager to the service desk", she explained.  A simple smile creased his wrinkled mouth as his hands came up, rough from the years, and he spoke to her in return, "I remember the squeaky wheel sound. That's something I don't miss.", he stated. And then I watched as they giggled, their silence broken, as they continued down the isle.  I suddenly felt both foolish and selfish. Not more than several hours earlier I was complaining about hearing the noise of the dog, while this man, whom I may never know in person and who obviously has lost his hearing, found simple pleasure in having every little sound now described to him.  How arrogant I had been to think that my hearing was something to take for granted. He may never know the sound of a chirping bird in the morning or hear "I love you, Grandpa", softly uttered by his grand daughter ever again, but I am fussing over hearing too much.  My enlightenment from this experience....cotton balls can ease my problem when I need to sleep, but the dog barking is now my reminder of all the gifts I have been so graciously given and the empathy I need to reserve for those who have lost thiers.