gifts and lessons
Collectively, we have been mourning the losses of loved ones, home and food security, jobs, summer vacation, and routines. The last time I experienced this level of stress, I was taking care of my father during his final days in hospice. I didn’t know what day it was, my hair was falling out, and the only certainty was uncertainty. During that time, I learned we are here to experience gifts and lessons. Gifts are talents we are meant to share with the world. Lessons are challenges we are meant to overcome. Gifts and lessons continue over time, inviting you to continually evolve into a better version of yourself.
A decade ago, my gift was my ability to bring calm to any situation. When my father was admitted to hospice, I held his hand and said, “I’m going to walk you to the pearly gates.” He replied, “I know.” It would not be easy, but we were in it together. I took a leave from work and reacquainted myself with my old bedroom at my parents’ house. In the beginning, I did almost everything myself. It didn’t take long before the crushing weight of caregiving uncovered my lesson—asking for and accepting help. I couldn’t find the words to articulate what I needed but my friends dropped off food, called to check on us, and offered to run errands. All their kind gestures nourished my body and soul. Their demonstrations of love also taught me I don’t have to wait for someone to ask to offer help.
My current gift is sharing my joie de vivre. I still bring calm to situations, but now, I’m focused on inviting people to experience the joy of everyday life. By sharing my tiny moments of joy, I hope to demonstrate my mindful moments to help you find yours.
My lesson? Having patience and surrendering to uncertainty. My mother is 89 years old, has Alzheimer’s, and lives in an assisted living facility. I don’t know when I will see her in person. The paralyzing uncertainty quickly turned into mental exhaustion, which forced me to surrender. I then remembered my mom is as safe as she can be. The facility conducts frequent testing, she is eating well, and taking her medications on time. The staff also sends pictures of my mom to my brothers and me, and in place of group activities, they take her on daily solo walks. I hear my mom smile every evening when we talk on the phone. It doesn’t remove my mom’s pangs of loneliness or my desire to hug her tightly, but I am learning to enjoy my time with mom in the midst of uncertainty.
As the pandemic pushes us to our limits, a new currency has emerged. Compassion. It comes in the form of your gifts—the kind gestures you make without hesitation, the food you donate for those who don’t know where their next meal is coming from, the music you create to soothe someone’s soul. What did you love to do as a child, unencumbered by social constructs? Chances are, those are the gifts you are meant to share with the world.
Your lesson may be revealed by these uncertain times; however, the lesson does not define you. It is not the new job you need to find or 15 pounds you need to lose. The stressor reveals a pattern or obstacle that keeps resurfacing in your experience. When your lesson reveals itself, know you are supported and have enough moxie to accept the challenge.
The currency of compassion is cumulative and our gifts add up to something wonderful. If you question the impact you can make, remember our dearly departed Congressman John Lewis. He was unapologetically devoted to making the world a better place through his civil rights work and compassion toward others.
What gifts will you unapologetically share with the world?
What legacy will you leave behind?
