This post is available as a podcast here: https://spotifyanchor-web.app.link/e/6cCeuopvVyb

Every one of us has someone that set our life on the “right” track. They aren’t necessarily the closest, nor the most distant of contacts. They are just someone who showed up at the right time with the right support to set us on our way. There are many such people in our lives, but there’s probably one that comes to mind immediately. For me, that was my grandma.

My grandma was a teacher, and perhaps that’s why I bonded so much with my teachers over the years. Then, I became a teacher myself. She was my first teacher (I know I should say that was my mom, but I think she understands.) My grandma loved children, and she drove up to see me as often as she could from the time I was born. She loved me more than anyone. She was my favorite person. She taught me far more than I could put on this page. I loved her the most; she was my soul sister. We bonded over cats and crafts. We wrote letters to each other to stay in touch. My favorite photos show our mutual joy and matching bright colors from the 80’s.

How do we find the light when things get dark? In many ways, my grandma was the reminder of love in this world. She wasn’t perfect, but she was the person. We all need someone like that; that loves us through our suffering. My grandma wanted me to stay with them when my mom got a job and moved to another state. It wasn’t easy on her – teenagers are rough. But, I’m forever grateful for living with her in those years. It was life-changing. I got to be “normal” with a large group of friends, who I could have over to the house and I could visit at their houses. That wasn’t possible in a house with an abusive alcoholic. My friends before that time were relegated to the fellow “rejects” of the school.

In recent years, I found out that many of my peers were told they couldn’t hang out with me in Junior High and Elementary school. Why? Because my stepfather was known in the community. Because my parents were divorced. Because I was from a “broken home.” I never knew the stigma I carried while I was working my ass off to earn straight-A’s and be perfect at everything. I was the kind of kid those parents would have wanted their kids to be like. But, it turns out that small towns will cast you out as soon as they think they know you. I moved in with my grandparents, and I was no longer an outcast. My world changed completely.

So, I loved high school. Everyone hates high school, but it was the first time in my life that I had community at school. I wasn’t just “teacher’s pet” or “smarty pants” or whatever names have long since faded from memory. Community. Acceptance. Childhood. I hadn’t felt the feelings of childhood when I was an outcast. My grandma saved me through her love, and in those years she saved me through her presence. I’ve told many of my (bad) stories over the years and been asked “How are you okay? Like, you seem like you turned out well…” Yeah, I think most people after my childhood wouldn’t be me today, but I had my grandma. I loved her and I learned from her. Also: empathy helps. No matter what affected me over the years, I’ve been able to find empathy for those that cast me aside or hurt me.

This post got extra-personal. Empathy is a key, folks. If we lose sight of the humanity in others, we can easily hurt or reject them. The way I’ve seen it, when people suffer there are two responses: rejection or submission. Rejection often is a first-response of protection, but for some people it hangs around much longer. When we are hurt, we instinctively want to protect ourselves from further hurt. So, some of us are on guard after – asking the question “How do I stop this from happening again?” but answering it by posting guards on the lookout for the same behaviors so that we can put up walls to shut it down before it happens again. This makes me sad because it closes out the world – keeps it at a distance based on fear. I always find submission.

Submission is a sense of acceptance, but it doesn’t mean we have to burden ourselves with the pain. The submission for me requires a shift in perspective to understand the pain of those whose actions caused the suffering. The submission says “I’m not going to fight against this suffering, but it doesn’t have to be my burden. I accept what is done, for I cannot change it, but that doesn’t make it okay.” When I take the energy to see the pain of those whose actions hurt me, I see their humanity and I can lighten my burden in the suffering. I don’t want to suffer, but carrying a burden is worse than the initial suffering. Fighting battles against that suffering for the rest of time is too great a burden to carry. How many battles are worth carrying? Of which battles can you relieve yourself? It isn’t about them, it’s about you. Lighten your load, and find more love for yourself.

The simple example to illustrate this point is the classic “car cutting you off in traffic” scenario. There are so many other simple ones: someone stepping on your toes, bumping into you, slighting you (giving an opportunity to someone else when you felt you earned it), etc. But, there can be even deeper cuts. Regardless of the depth, the distinction is here: Do you curse at the person who did that action? Or, do you take a moment to breathe and accept that your perspective is not the only one in this situation? Yes, the actions may appear to be selfish and/or careless, but does that mean we need to carry the burden of anger on top of the pain from that action? I don’t want to. Ask yourself, do you?

This week I have to tell you a story about my grandmother, but it’s also kind of about how dumb I was as a kid.

My grandmother liked to take me with her on trips. We went up the coast in an RV together with my grandpa and their dog. We went boating, fishing, and did crafts together. The biggest trip we ever did was to New York City. My grandmother was a teacher, so she must have saved up for her trips. She traveled a lot, actually. She wanted to see the world. She took me to NYC when I was 13 to see Broadway because of my love of theatre and dance. We saw The Lion King on Broadway, and I still remember bits of it. That was certainly my highlight of the trip. She wanted to do all the touristy things, and I was too young to understand what any of them were. We rode in a carriage, we saw the stars names on the sidewalk, we went to Planet Hollywood. I think she wanted to go to the Today Show, but I was jet-lagged teenager who didn’t understand and didn’t want to get up that early. (See?! Dumb. Grandma took me on the trip, why couldn’t I pull it together to do something she wanted to do?!!!!)

We did some of the things she loved, and some of the things I loved. Even in her disappointment (when we didn’t get to do something on her list), she was so loving and happy to be there with me. That was my grandma. I may have been a dumb, ungrateful kid, but my grandma loved me through it. She taught me to love like that. If someone doesn’t get it, and I get disappointed because they don’t get it – I remember myself as a kid and I remember that my grandma found a way to keep enjoying herself. She still loved me, she still had fun – and I strive to do the same. If I could go back and give her all the things she wanted out of that trip today, I would. We all have memories like that. So, let’s be gracious. I remember her every time I’m in that position (not always immediately, because disappointment is still disappointment, but it’s something I work to preserve.) May we all have those in our lives that inspire us to be better.

Love without conditions, forgive those who don’t know better, and find joy when faced with disappointment.

Find your peace, Loves. -S.