Life has a way of interrupting your plans. One minute you're going about your day, and the next, everything stops.
That happened to me this past week.
My dad had to go to the ER and was eventually admitted to the hospital for observation and testing. The why isn't important (and honestly, it's too long to explain), but while it was happening, it was scary.
He's home now and all is well. So this isn't about him. It's about something I realized while I was there. And it's about me.
And you.
I'm not one of those people who needs to find the "gift" while I'm standing in the middle of something scary. In that moment, I don't need the lesson. I just want everyone to be okay.
But, of course, the lesson found me anyway. Because when you're standing in an ER with someone you love, you realize very quickly how little control you actually have.
You hand someone you love over to people you've never met. And you trust.
You trust that they'll pay attention.
You trust that they'll know what they're doing.
You trust that they'll notice when something isn't right.
You trust that they'll remember that the person lying in that bed isn't just another patient.
They're somebody's whole world.
You trust that they'll care. Like, really care. And here's what hit me:
You can't make someone care.
You can't make someone listen.
You can't make someone be kind.
You can't make someone notice another human being.
You can't make someone give a damn.
You can only choose whether you do.
There were mistakes at the hospital. Things my mom caught because she was there, paying attention and advocating for my dad. But what happens to the person who doesn't have someone sitting beside them?
What happens when we're so busy doing our jobs, getting through our days, checking the boxes, answering the emails, rushing to the next thing... that we stop seeing the human being right in front of us?
I realized this isn't really a hospital question, but a human question.
How many lives would be different if we all cared just a little more?
Yes, in hospitals. But everywhere.
The person you pass on the street.
The car waiting to make a left turn.
The woman checking you out at the grocery store.
The friend you keep meaning to call.
The person doing a job you've barely noticed.
The person sitting across the table from you.
We can't make other people care more, but I can choose to care more.
Maybe that's the point. Instead of spending energy wishing the world were kinder, I can put more kindness into it. Instead of wishing people paid more attention, I can pay more attention. Instead of wondering why somebody didn't care, I can ask myself... Did I?
So that's my intention.
More care.
Smile at the stranger.
Say hello.
Let the car in.
Don't rush the conversation.
Ask someone how they're doing, and stay long enough to actually hear the answer.
Notice.
Care doesn't have to be some enormous act. It's simply the attention we give another human being.
It's a way of saying:
I see you.
You matter.
You're not invisible to me.
We can't change the whole world today. But we can change the way the world feels to the person standing right in front of us. And that's how the whole world changes anyway. One person at a time.
So my question for you this week is:
Where could you bring a little more care today?
Love,
Jenn