The Breaking of One's Soul

"The suffering of one's soul is an exercise in realizing that self sometimes comes second." -- A. Lewis.

When she looked up at me with those small, round dark eyes and her mouth unable to be closed completely, I broke. Unable to speak, nod her head, or hardly even sit upright without help, she shook and wobbled with the effects of Cerebral Palsy. She may have been 30 or even 40, I couldn't quite tell. She had a folder with her complete with a few names and contact phone numbers at her destination including her Resident Manager -- she must be living in a group home. She couldn't even hold out her hand to point at any of the drinks I was offering her....I chose a can of Coke for her and set it down in front of her. And what exactly did I think she was going to do then? Reach for it? Um, no...she couldn't. I put down a plastic cup next to the can of Coke. She couldn't do a thing for herself. I poured some in the cup for her thinking it may be easier to drink that way. But there was no way she was going to be able to pick up that cup and drink for herself. She couldn't even participate in that simple activity. I was going to actually have to help her drink. Now, we are not required to assist anyone in actually eating or drinking -- just opening the food and making sure they can reach it. But for god's sake, what human being in their right mind was going to just let her sit there and not help out. I knelt down next to her shaking body and struggled to get as much Coke as I could into her mouth. It went everywhere. Down her front....I put napkins under her chin to catch most of it. By god, she struggled her best to get a drink. I was so proud of her. The rest of it ran down her face and onto my hands and right into the ring that my partner bought for me several years ago -- the stickiness of the sugar drenching her and me. The ring is engraved with the words beauty, joy, faith, love, wish, dream, hope, peace, spirit, and soul. She exemplified every one of them. I swear, there is something that pokes at my heart when any of us helps meet the most basic of bottom-line necessities of someone's life. It breaks a guy's heart right in half. My cool, temperate heart gave way. The crustiness and sassy front-running emotion in my life fell hard as the tears gathered quickly in my eyes and then I began to cry right out loud -- in the middle of the aisle way, on my knees, in uniform, with a Coke in my hand. I made my way forward to the galley to compose myself.

God help me if I ever complain that things in my small little life aren't quite how I'd like them to be. I would consider myself a total loss, a failure, a human of pissy proportions and not worthy of a place on this planet if I ever find myself in a position where it becomes apparent that I am not counting my blessings or if I ever see myself as a victim. Thanksgiving is coming up this week here in the United States. I wonder if it will cause me pause to consider those with less than I.

These moments of learning only come to those whose hearts are able to be broken open. To those who are willing to change, to feel, to see without the blinders of greed and self. And only to those whose spirits are yearning to develop a sense of gratefulness. I'm trying. I really am.