Photo Courtesy of Dennis Buchner on Unsplash
I experienced a captivating moment today. I stood in my backyard while Riley was sleuthing for chipmunks. As I lifted my face to the sun, the wind chose that moment to gust slightly. Leaves from seemingly every tree were released. They swirled around and around as they floated gently to the ground.
It reminded me of being ten and playing alone outside just as the initial snowflakes of the season fell from the sky. I recall feeling it was a privilege to be there in that moment as the dance of winter took its first tentative steps.
A single mom friend of mine has been going through a rough patch for a while. Most recently a job didn’t work out as planned. She and her child had relocated for that job so it was a double hit. Now they’re moving for a new opportunity and it’s still a time of change for them.
She’s a terrific mom and the kid is a vivid portrait of her good parenting. Like most of the rest of us, she can be hard on herself when things don’t work out as originally planned.
Her post on Facebook about feeling like a failure brought a flood of responses. They were so varied it caught my attention.
Some were supportive, as in, “You’ve GOT this!” Others were logical, pointing out the myriad of ways her child has benefitted from having her as Mom. One sounded like sage advice from a psychologist as the person encouraged her to trust her inner knowing.
But the one I most appreciated was an honest-to-the-core reply from a single father who is having his own life challenges. He didn’t write from the viewpoint of, “Child, you think YOU’VE got problems—well, just listen to mine!” This type of “helping” is not helpful. At all. So please don’t do it.
No, he just bared his soul by telling us about his life with his son. He said that he had cried more in the past year than any other. The empathy he felt for our mutual friend was evident and soothing. And then he talked about sacrifice, opportunity, and moving forward.
That, dear readers, is helpful.
The variety of feedback reminded me of the fallen leaves. Some are still fresh while others have turned brown. Large and small, symmetrical or torn and ragged, they meld into a beautiful tableau of shapes and colors.
Likewise, we offer up in friendship what gifts we possess. Our answers may be as varied as the leaves, but together they create an amazing gathering of love and hope.
And who wouldn’t want to jump into a big pile of that?
Photo courtesy of Cris Dinoto of Unsplash
