SCALES AND SUCH

  For most of us, the scales we abhor, avoid as best we can, are the scales found in medical offices. Yes, those dreaded weight scales for which we prepare. Wearing the lightest weight clothing we possess. Ridding our pockets of everything- up to and including the lint - lol. However, while devoting so much time and energy on our physical weight, we leave another weight behind.

We too often forget - on purpose or not - the weight upon our shoulders and souls. Have we watched our behavior as carefully as we watch our food intake? Do we carry around a teeny tiny scale as some do so as to weigh food portions? Do we carry a small notebook which contains calorie listings - or one listing the egregiousness scale of misdeeds? Do we ever check up on our personal values checklist, our balance outstanding or credit awaiting, or do we only check bank and stock accounts, property and wealth accumulated? On what do we emphasize? Which is the weight we most dread and/or value?

Unfortunately, most of us, and I include myself in this category, not proud of it, pay attention to the one more easily seen, evaluated and addressed. The one of lesser pain and importance. We forget our souls, our humanity, our connection to others which must be nurtured. Instead, we forge straight ahead, often blind to that which we leave behind in the detritus of life. Until we are forced to do otherwise.

It takes a great shock to the system, enough force, high on the gravitas scale, to push us to do the right thing, the hard thing, and be honest with ourselves. We finally take stock in the newly increased moments of introspection. We scour our past, near and far, cringing or sighing in relief as we dredge the most innermost depths of heart and soul. At times it takes the acts of another, better acts, a stronger person, to push us over the line, to impel us to at least try to be better, to remember the true values of life, those that fall into the temporary list and those we take with us, on every journey taken.

There are days I cringe while recalling a moment of shame - where I said or did something with a too sharp blade, perhaps not rephrasing in a softer manner. I cringe at the moments where I could have, should have, been a better person - and was not. Not because I think I am a bad person, but because there are moments when it is so hard to do the right thing, to find the right words, to ignore the difficulty and awkwardness, fear our own inadequacy for the moment confronting us. And so, we do nothing, allowing time and distance to push the sharpness of that knowledge away.

Until, like it or not, it rises up to smack us in the face, ignorable no longer. Since Monday when we received the shocker information that our youngest grandchild, my baby grandson as I tease him, had been struck by cancer. Yes, we knew there are new methods, new targeted drugs, new techniques, greater hopes for full recovery. Yes, we knew, and our hearts overflowed at the outpouring of love, of desire to help, to give comfort. Nor did it matter if they were Jewish or of another n religion or no religion. It mattered not if they were old friends or new, part of the past or present.

Of importance was their strong desire to help, to ease, anything in their power to make a terrible situation better, more hopeful, to let us know that our little boy, our family, were not alone. And it was yesterday that something came home to roost, a most uncomfortable something, and I bowed, and still bow, before the courage and goodness of this person, this old friend, whom I had failed in that moment of grief and need.

This person had an awful moment of grief, a grief that will never end. I sent a small note, meaning to follow up with a longer conversation or exchange of feelings, to proffer as best I could any iota of comfort in a most uncomfortable situation. Not knowing the words to say, I said none at all. Time elapsed, the discomfort grew, along with guilt and shame. It became a burr in my soul that was constantly inflicting pain and hurt, yet I could see no way out, no positive way. 

Yesterday, among the myriad phone calls, emails, Facebook messages, the overwhelming huge volume of words of comfort and love, the phone rang. I could not believe my eyes. Hesitatingly, with great trepidation, I answered. And there was the voice of an old friend, a voice I had cut off because my own was inadequate. 

And so, I bowed before this person, so much stronger than I, so much better. I was forgiven even as I could not forgive myself.

Yes, it was a moment of evaluation, a moment for weighing the values, the true values. I hope, I pray, I promise this person that I will do better, will try not to fail anyone else in their moment of need. I only hope I can live up to this person's example.

Thank you all for the outpouring of love, of friendship, of good will and prayers. There are literally thousands of people all around the world adding their voices to the voices of others, pleading, praying, hoping, urging for the healing of this little boy, facing a man's challenge.

Thank you.

Inadequate yet again, yet my heart overfloweth.