Month: February 2024

It would be difficult to find a person on this earth who did not fail at doing something at least once in a lifetime. The truth is that most people suffer defeat multiple times. Because we are human each of us has endured moments when we were unable to achieve something that meant a great deal to us. This does not mean that we are flawed or inadequate, but simply that we are human. 

Failure comes in many forms, some of which are mostly benign and others which tear our lives apart. I did not pass my driving test on the first try. I did quite well until I attempted to parallel park in between two cones. I became so flustered that I put a bit too much pressure on the accelerator pedal and knocked over one of the orange barriers. The whole process stopped there and I had to go home and lick my wounds while I practiced for weeks never really mastering the art of guiding my vehicle to a nice fit between two immoveable objects. 

I went back for another try and once again the test was smooth sailing until I reached the defining moment of parallel parking. I literally began to shake with terror when I saw those cones seeming to mock me with their bilious color. I took a deep breath and concentrated on moving slowly, deliberately. When I thought I might hit the orange sentinel I pulled out and began my effort again. I was determined not to cause damage this time, but when I had tried multiple times I actually began to cry thinking that I would never in my lifetime be allowed to legally sit in the driver’s seat of a car. 

The proctor for the test asked me to just stop for a moment. He wanted to know how old I was and how many times I had tried and failed to master the art of parallel parking. With a shaky voice I admitted that I had failed the test once before and did not believe that I would ever be successful in my efforts. He calmly noted that I had at least mastered the ability to know when I was about to hit something. He wanted asked how often I engaged in activities which would require me to park my vehicle along a curb between two other vehicles. When I told him that I would probably never have to do such a thing he announced that he was going to give me a passing grade. I was thrilled but to this very day I have been afraid to even try to parallel park, which makes me feel a bit ridiculous.

If this minor failure had been the only thing that had daunted me in my lifetime I would be rather remarkable. Instead like everyone else my life is littered with failed attempts at mastering a technique or, even worse, sustaining an important relationship with someone who was very important to me. Somehow our inability to handle our interactions with other people with calm, respect and wisdom tends to be among our greatest failures as humans. The impact of interpersonal defeat leads to the worst problems in our human experiences. Sometimes they can even result in wars. We would do well to be as aware of the pitfalls of acting without considering the damage we might do to another person as I was about hitting one of those cones when trying to park. 

Our emotions trace through our minds twenty four seven. Our brains can be methodical and thoughtful when suddenly we flare up in anger or disappointment or fear. We say and do things that we never intended. Once the genie is out of the bottle it is so difficult to cram it back inside. We hurt each other and sometimes the damage is so bad that there are no excuses, no passes for good intentions. We fail and it hurts. 

If we constantly remembered that failure is a human trait perhaps we might stop our descent into the kind of frustration that tears us apart. We would think before we act. We would consider what might happen if we react too quickly. We would also be willing to forgive the small slights before they become bigger lethal problems that affect more and more people around us. The first step in curbing our destructive behaviors is in admitting that we are imperfect and that we sometimes need help. It does nothing positive to hide behind our imperfections and failures. Admitting them and working to control them is the first step to finding success. 

We are often hard on ourselves and even harder on others when things fall apart. We forget that we are not going to always get things right on the first try. The most successful individuals are those who are open to the idea of working hard to overcome problems with ourselves and in our relationships. There are no magic pills that make any of us perfect. We are bound to encounter difficult moments that make us question ourselves or the people around us. Understanding our individual limitations and working to improve our failings is not just admirable, but also necessary to maintain our well being. 

A friend posted a wonderful prayer today. It began with admitting that sometimes it feels as though we can’t. We may have a tremendous desire to be our better selves but something is inhibiting us from getting there. Just saying the words “I can’t” is admitting that we are in a state that all humans encounter. Asking for help in overcoming this feeling demonstrates a positive step forward. As my mother used to say true love is accepting someone, including ourselves “warts and all.”

A winter storm blew through my town. The sky was dark in the middle of the day. Sheets of rain fell to the ground. There were tornado warnings and it seemed to be a time for staying inside, but we had appointments to keep so my husband and I were out and about during some of the most threatening times. As we drove towards the comfort of our home I found myself thinking of my mother just as I always seem to do when the weather takes a frightful turn I remember how she always smiled as she calmed me and my brothers on such days by pointing out how lucky we were to have a warm house with a strong roof to keep us safe. I suppose my lessons in gratitude began with her. 

My mother was a child during the Great Depression of the last century. She often recalled how her parents had kept their eight children safe and fed during the worst of times. Her father had paid for their home as each room was built so when the crash came the family was assured of having a place to live. He worked at a meat packing plant and got special deals on cuts of meat that might otherwise have been thrown out. Her mother then concocted recipes that used the scraps along with vegetables from the garden that she grew in her backyard. The fare was often meager, but my mother boasted that they never missed a meal. Through hard work and ingenuity my grandparents kept their children safe during a time when so many across the globe struggled to find a safe place to sleep at night. 

My mother’s childhood home was tiny. There were three bedrooms that were so small that it was difficult to imagine how a double bed fit inside each of the three bedrooms. Even harder to visualize was four children sharing each of the two beds that filled the spaces in the rooms designated for them. Mama laughed when she thought of how cramped the sleeping quarters had been. She described how the act of one person rolling to a new position prompted the whole crew to move in unison. 

The family had few luxuries. They owned a radio around which they found entertainment and news. Their father purchased books which he encouraged them to read. They road a bus or walked to get to school or downtown. Hand me downs kept them in shoes and clothing. My mother being the youngest was always the last to get the worn and threadbare items which more often than not had been cleverly patched by my grandmother. For birthdays and Christmas each child received a nickel which they could save or spend any way they wished. Somehow in spite of what sounded like privations to me, my mother’s face glowed whenever she described how fortunate they were. 

I suppose that the source of my mother’s ability to appreciate the simplest of pleasures grew from the bare bones existence of her childhood. It always took so little to make her happy. She was thankful for the smallest gestures of kindness and in turn her generosity if measured proportionately to her income was equal to the largesse of a billionaire. She considered herself a most fortunate woman even as her lifestyle remained quite simple for most of her life. Much like her parents she lived within her means even when that meant requiring her to be quite creative in stretching her tiny budget. When she died she owned her home and had no debts and no savings but she had been wise enough to secure an insurance policy that paid for her funeral. She left this world as simply and as happily as she had lived in it for eighty four years. 

I sometimes chide myself for buying into the pursuit of wealth that so often distracts humans from truly enjoying the small things in life. I am reminded of a woman I knew whose husband showered her with exquisite and expensive gifts each year wrapped in gloriously beautiful packages. Instead of being thankful for his largesse she invariably found something wrong with everything he had lovingly purchased for her and spent the days after the holiday returning his offerings for the things that she really wanted. Somehow that always struck me as being a terrible thing to do as I noted the disappointed looks on her husband’s face. I wondered how she herself could be so unappreciative.

I know people who find fault and complain about their good fortune constantly. Instead of being thankful like my mother always was they comment about the flaws that they seem to find with great regularity. It makes me uncomfortable to be around people who will complain about a gift of wine when they should instead be voicing the joy of having a friend who thought of them by bringing them a gift. Such folks pick at perceived faults in every generous effort that comes their way. I often wonder what makes them so unappreciative of what they have. They seem unable to grasp the simple joys of life. They do not appreciate that it is the sacrifice and love involved in their gifts that is the true value.

I’m glad that my mother’s generous and gracious joy still guides me. She showed me how to treasure even seemingly small treasures. I smile each Christmas when I decorate my tree with, the crocheted pink bell that a student made for me. So too it is with the paper ornament created from an old Christmas card that a friend gave me decades ago. The thoughtfulness that prompted people to think of me is better than gold. The warm bed where I sleep at night is one of my most appreciated possessions. The gratitude that I feel makes me happy over and over again no matter how difficult life becomes. When it rains I see my mother smiling and reminding me of my good fortune. The legacy she left for me is magnificent! 

I once attended a multi-day training that has stuck with me for all time. The instructor ended the course by telling us that if we left with only one idea from her three day marathon is should be to always assume the best about people. She noted that when we assume the best we are usually right. Only after getting proof that someone’s intentions were morally wrong do we need to confront them with our disappointment and perhaps even anger or punishment. When we rush to judgement and accuse someone of acts or feelings that they never had it is always difficult to put back the pieces of our relationship.

Her advice was to curb the emotions of a difficult moment before jumping to conclusions that may or may not be true, whatever the situation may be. Assuming the best about people provides a cooling off period and demonstrates respect for the person whose words or actions may have bothered us. Taking the time to find out what prompted the behaviors that seemed wrong may reveal that no bad intent was behind them. Instead it may have been simply the result of a badly phrased sentence or a misunderstanding. 

These days, perhaps because of social media or differing ways of expressing ourselves, it is not at all uncommon for the words someone writes down or says out loud to come across as completely different from what they meant. Nonetheless society often seems to be on the prowl to look for a slip of the tongue, a wrong word used in the wrong context. We all too often hold someone accountable for a single badly worded statement. People are banished from jobs, groups and friendships for a slip of the tongue when they should be allowed to explain that’s not what they meant at all. 

We’ve all had those moments when the process of searching for the right way to express what we were thinking suddenly sounded irreverent or ignorant or even vile. We may or may not have had thoughts that matched what came from our mouths. Instead we may have only misfired with the words we chose to use in the hurry of the moment. In retrospect if given the chance we might have been able to explain more clearly what we had been trying to say. It is quite sad when we are held to a moment of frustration or momentary inability to find the words that would have mediated our thoughts and feelings more appropriately. 

I watch famous people being roasted over hot coals for saying something too quickly that irritates people. As general rule we tend to expect such individuals to always maintain perfection in the statements that they make. I would argue that few of us are ever able to avoid missteps in our utterances, so why would we expect more from others just because they are constantly in the limelight? The truth is that always being in the public sphere makes it more likely to eventually end up saying things that trigger ridicule or anger. 

Society jumps on those gotcha moments especially when they already dislike a person’s lifestyle or beliefs. Even the smallest omission or slip of the tongue becomes fodder for headlines and sometimes even the destruction of careers. If only we began with the assumption that person was not purposely trying to raise our ire, we might get more reasoned explanations for what they have said. 

The other problem is that all too often attempts to derail individual speech is purposeful pursuit. Questions are directed at forcing someone to say something that with incite criticism. Interrogators pounce on even the smallest sign of weakness or even omission. Most of the time such situations result more from the pressures of having to speak quickly and without consideration of how best to express certain feelings or ideas. Off the cuff responses to trouble laden questions can be akin to walking through a field littered with landmines and it is generally unfair. 

Sadly it has become more common to assume the worst about people from the start rather than assuming the best and then probing to find out what the truth actually is. Little wonder that we have so few who wish to be public figures and leaders. In today’s toxic environment expressing ideas with which people disagree might lead to doxing, threats and even violence. Such an atmosphere is not conducive to freedom and democracy and well-being. It does not work in private life either. Thus the growth of counseling services in which trained therapists literally teach people how to get along. 

Not long ago I wrote a blog expressing my frustration with the current attitudes of so many people across the globe. Someone who reads my offerings commented that he still believes that most people are good and have nothing but the best intentions with what the say and do. I also believe that is true and for that reason I always try to assume the best whenever I witness someone seeming to struggle with words or actions. Our relationships with each other are so delicate and so important. it’s up to us to dedicate ourselves to keeping them strong. It begins by having faith that the people around us mostly have good intentions. We should always believe that until the evidence shows that real evil is in our midst. Assuming the best is an act of confidence that the offending person was just having a bad day. Who among us does not reach that point now and again? Hopefully others around us will assume the best.

I love people, all people. I do my best writing when I describe one of the beautiful souls that I have been lucky enough to know and cherish. I have an ability to see deeply into the hearts of the people whom I encounter. That talent helped me to be more than just a purveyor of information with my students. I ultimately became known as “Mama B” because I felt a deep connection both with the young people whom I shepherded and the teachers whom I mentored. I read the faces of the people around me. 

My skill at understanding when people need consoling is both a gift and a kind of curse. I feel the suffering of others so deeply that I cannot simply look the other way. There are times when I am almost overwhelmed by the heartbreaking difficulties that I encounter. When I become obsessed with comforting those in need I am unrelenting.  My intensity is sometimes mistaken for overreaction. It can be off putting for some who insist that it is not my role to constantly be measuring the pulse of the people around me. I suppose that much like a doctor I have trained myself to watch for symptoms of distress. I have an ability to diagnose unseen traumas of the heart before they become visible to others. 

More often than not the pain that I find in the people around me comes from deeply rooted societal ills. I see that I must study the issues and become an advocate for everyone who is suffering from diseases caused by poverty, abuse, injustice. I never met George Floyd, but I understood him because I have known many whose lives were like his. I embraced the protests that resulted from his death because I had learned over and over again how inequities all too often sap the life out of individuals born under the condemnation of prejudice. While I did not condone the violence that sometimes flared in the name of injustice, I also understood the prejudices and unfairness that so many people of color experience through no fault of their own. 

I have advocated for those with mental illnesses because I watched my dear beautiful mother become defined by the symptoms of her bipolar disorder in the eyes of so many people. They were unable to see the kindness and courage that she maintained in spite of the suffering caused by the illness that she did not choose. I knew that under the cloak of sadness and mania that often returned to plague her was one of the most extraordinary souls to ever live on this earth. So it is with so many people living with mental disorders and so I also advocate for them. 

I have talked one on one with young people whose parents brought them illegally into the United States when they were toddlers. They have received a reprieve for a time by being known as dreamers but they live in constant fear that they will one day be deported and sent back to places that they have never known. They worry that their parents will be forced to leave them behind. The pressures of uncertainty color every aspect of their lives. They fear traveling beyond the borders of where they now live. They long to know relatives from the places where they were born whom they never met. It’s difficult to imagine being afraid all the time, but this is their legacy. I fight for them as well. 

There is far too much misunderstanding and unwillingness to really get to know each person as an individual in our world today. Too often we do not see beyond our own prejudices when we judge others around us. We carry fears of entire groups of people as we navigate through our lives. We have accepted stereotypes about people rather than getting to know them personally. I know that in my own journey I have evolved from the ignorance of isolation with only like minded people. My work introduced me to a whole new world of individuals who helped me to understand that when all is said and done we all bleed the same. We all laugh and cry. We all love and feel the same kind of emotions. Nonetheless some groups have been artificially deemed to be less than others. Perhaps this is what grieves me more than anything else. 

I’m having a very difficult struggle right now because I see people fomenting fear and hate on a grander scale than is usual. I see individuals dividing us into good and evil, religious and Satanic, legal and illegal, superior and inferior. They prey on our sense of security and encourage us to arm ourselves both literally and figuratively lest others take from us what we treasure. I advocate for those who see the big picture and offer solace in a big tent with room for everyone regardless of differences. 

The world around us can feel quite overwhelming these days. So many people are asking us to hear them, see them, feel them. It would be wrong to ignore them but all of us, including me, have to understand how much emotional lifting we can handle and still be effective. We might start by insisting that those with the power to make the changes that would help be held accountable for working together. In this election year I will be looking for leaders who are willing to work on the issues that matter, not for only for those who support them but for all people around the globe. it’s time for all of us to see the masses as individuals, to listen to their cries for help and to feel the pain that they carry. It’s time to break out of the ignorance of our bubbles

I remember my mother-in-law commenting not long before her death that her social calendar had become a series of reminders to visit doctors and attend funerals. She was only seventy six when she left this world but that was almost miraculous given that doctors had told her when she was only a teen that she would probably not live past her thirtieth birthday due to a heart defect that had been with her since birth. 

I was still young enough when she remarked about the fate of growing older to have little understanding of what her life had become. Now twenty years late I am beginning to understand. My social media is filled with reports of friends undergoing difficult surgeries and procedures that become the focus of their lives. Both my husband and I receive a constant stream of information telling us of the death of yet another high school classmate or the health battles of friends and family. We have reached the terrible moment of comparing our ailments in conversations with our peers. 

This year the annual wellness visits with our primary care physicians have led to a number of “due diligence” tests for the two of us. We have been to the second floor of the Methodist Hospital Outpatient Center so often that the guys who do the valet parking have begun greeting us like old friends. My calendar looks like it belongs to a social butterfly until one notices that most of the reserved dates and times focus on medical tests. It’s both a blessing and a nuisance that has me thinking of my sweet mother-in-law. 

So far both me and my husband have received a clean bill of health at each juncture and we appreciate that our doctors want to be certain that the little glitches that they observe in us are nothing serious, but I have grown weary of driving to the Houston Medical Center several times each week. Sometimes I am waiting for my husband while he endures MRIs and biopsies and other times I am the one getting venous doppler exams on my lower extremities. While I wait I observe the people who sit with us, sometimes looking very concerned. I create little stories in my head about them, remembering details of the furrows in their brows and the looks of anxiety in their eyes. 

I realize how much real suffering is taking place on a daily basis all over the world and marvel that we are so often totally unaware of it. I find myself feeling humbled and thankful for my own good fortune in being only minutes away from such incredible medical services and doctors. It has all made me far more aware of how it must feel to be engaged in an extended battle for good health. I see the world a bit differently now than I did when my mother-in-law attempted to explain what it was like to spend a lifetime being told that her heart might fail her at any moment. Little wonder that she told the same stories about her life which was focused on making it from one year to the next. 

I have a friend who will undergo surgery soon and a cousin who is recovering from a broken hip. Another friend has met the halfway point of her cancer treatments and yet another recently completed his schedule of treatments. My sister-in-law is struggling to reclaim her life after a major injury and my brother is hoping that his Parkinson’s disease will progress slowly. The health issues of people that I know are cropping up all around me and suddenly I feel a new sense of compassion and understanding of how isolating and frightening it is to wait for a diagnosis. 

Aging and ultimately death is inevitable for each of us. While I often boast that my own life has been so full that I would not want anyone to grieve for me if I were to suddenly die, I have recently felt the human desire to hang onto life just a bit longer. I realize that facing the thought of leaving all that we love behind is quite daunting. so when I see the fear in the eyes of someone whose prognosis is uncertain I have a better sense of how awful it is for them. We like to believe that we will be courageous in such moments but the reality is that bad news shakes us to our core, especially when it is totally unexpected. 

I grow wiser as I age and sometimes think of the younger me and wish that I had learned what I now know just a bit earlier. I think that I would have visited my older relatives and friends a more often. I might have listened to their stories and concerns with more interest. Perhaps I would have slowed down just to be with them rather rushing around doing tasks that might have waited for my attention. 

All is good with me for now but life has taught me that every single hour is uncertain and we would do well to make the most of each of our days. If there is a battle for justice to be embraced then we should fight for it. If we keep wanting to see a certain person, we should not put off making it happen. Each of us will one day become the dust that we work so hard to remove from our homes. Perhaps a better use of our time would be to schedule time with someone we love before they are sitting on the second floor of an outpatient clinic waiting for test results that will define a shorter stay in the world with us. None of us want to feel regret that we never managed to find the time for someone who needed us. Schedule some love today.