Help. It's easy.

So, Bono says "it's no secret that a friend is someone who lets you help." I think there's something true in that. I think there are a million ways to give and receive "help;" but much of the time, the ones we choose to offer are the magnanimous gestures. For those who receive, it's usually in a much smaller, and less overt form that we get what we need.

This morning, I was half watching a segment on the Today Show that absolutely infuriated me. The intent was to draw attention to world hunger, but the ridiculous nature of its form completely detracted from the issue. Four newsy types in their designer clothes, and their obvious world of comfort and safety were discussing the virtues of promoting the utilization of insects as a means of aiding in hunger. They weren't, of course, in the bush of Africa scraping around for grubs and eating them off the ground. The insects this newscast was "forced" to enjoy were prepared by a gourmet chef into tacos. Now, I'm going to be honest, the prospect of eating a bug absolutely disgusts me, but the truly hungry have truly few options. At the tail end of this little demonstration, one of the individuals rattled off the important and vital statistics that relate to what is reality for those who are in extreme poverty and suffering from hunger. Not too many of us would fair well living on less than a $1.50 per day, yet that's what many people do live on. They couldn't afford the tacos that chef made--insects or not.

A lot of progress is being made in the battle against extreme poverty, but it has been slow going. I was recently so uplifted by Bono discussing the statistics of progress in this area during a TED Talk that I felt we as a human family could do anything, if we only set our minds to it. But, It's pretty hard to convince people who are better off to help others in the current climate of economic turmoil. And there's no judgement here about that. People should do what they can, and yes, we all have to take care of ourselves. But the reality is, it doesn't take as much as you think to help someone.

Help won't come to women and children suffering from hunger, poor health care and oppressive governments and cultures because four people in fancy clothes on a morning drivel fest show ate tacos made from insects. Help will come when each of us understands the value of one another as part of our greater human family. And I was, frankly, embarrassed that one human's extreme disadvantage became a two-minute circus oriented video byte.

But that's what we sometimes do. We take something really important, and we wrap it in a flag that fits our own making. We do for others what feels good to ourselves. We do what we think someone else would want, often times without asking or thinking about how it might truly affect them.

I don't want to make that sound terrible, because sometimes we don't even realize it, and it's certainly not the intent.

A dear friend had a recent and surprising disappointment. I choose not to exploit that disappointment here, but suffice it to say, something just didn't work out the way she'd hoped. Not the first time in history that one sees something one way, only to find out it wasn't quite what one had imagined or felt. Another dear friend decided, well-meaningly, to come to her aid. That didn't work out so well either.

It was moderate gesture, and I know why it was extended. Sometimes in our own lives, we feel very out of control. We face things that are difficult, and we don't know how to make them right. Each day is a challenge in its own way, and we grow weary of suffering ourselves; and watching people we care about suffer as well. If we could just make the difference for someone--anyone, maybe the pain of not being able to make the difference for ourselves would go away too.

In the end, everything's okay. The moderate gesture was seen for what it was intended to be, and it was only a baby elephant tromping on the daisies, not an entire herd.

Tiny, welcome gestures may not change a person's life, but they can brighten a person's day.

So perfect. 

I'm not going to make it any secret here. I've been struggling. I've been feeling a little alone, and isolated. Connections I thought I had aren't as strong as I thought they were. I often find myself feeling on the outside of groups to which I once felt I belonged. It's tough. Sadly, the more I feel this, the more I tend to withdraw.

It's hard to go through hard things in life when you feel yourself alone. And from the outside, people don't always see your struggles the way they are happening for you. They see the drapes you put up, and the glasses you fill with bubbly stuff to cover up and forget the times you could have chosen differently and been on a different path. It's true--there are some really awesome drapes, and some pretty fantastic beverages, but at the end of the day, you're left with yourself and your questions about where you could be.

Interestingly, these moments when I feel the most lost and down about friendships and opportunities that seem to be drawing to a close, I am given small reminders of everything I still have, and not so surprisingly, usually from people I hadn't expected.

A spontaneous invitation to a show I had been mulling over for weeks reminded me that distance isn't insurmountable, and just the tizzy of activity around the idea of a girlie day is on the list of exactly what I need. The arrival of a package when I got home last night was yet another reminder that just a state away, there's a woman I have known most of my life who knows what I love and shares my humor. I will treasure that Ian Somerholder mug with my picture on it always--not strictly because of my guilty pleasure as a "Vampire Diaries" fan, but because of how much it made me laugh. And out of left field, I received a message with the photo of a chicken fish from another woman I admire from afar. She reminded me that days are hard, but we will get there--wherever "there" is, and we can get what we want out of life.

This is not my chicken fish. Credit to its maker

None of these exactly-what-I-needed things will change the plight of the hungry and disenfranchised, and they won't change the sad time I seem to be in right now, but they are tiny gestures that feel like a three-ring-circus of love to me. They are, quite simply, "help."

One person can't fix everything. Most of the time, one person can't even fix one thing. But that's the beauty of things. Having things to fix, or people to help can teach us that not everything is meant to be fixed. In the rarest of instances where fixing something is possible, it often can't be done without pooling resources--one small gesture at a time.

The best place to start is with intent. 


Waste--Foster The People

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