You've seen that commercial, "What's in YOUR wallet?", but what I'm actually writing about is who do YOU have that you can really depend on? Who's on YOUR dependability list . . . besides yourself?
Those who are happily married, have attentive kids, or tons of relatives, and buckets full of good friends, won't relate to this blog. There's no way that you can. But for those who can relate, it'll be a wake up call. I've said it before, and I will continue to say it . . . I. Am. A. Survivor. I'm one of the lucky ones. Some are not able to go on by themselves. When I think back about all of my stumbles, I always managed to land on my feet because I don't think, I scheme.
Yes, my feet that I keep
landing on.
But some things just can't be 'schemed'. I'm not just talking about finances, I'm referring to every aspect of your life. Who can you "bare your soul" to, get a ride somewhere when you need it, someone who will know something is wrong when you don't show for a few hours or a day, asks you over for dinner, notices that you need help with something and just does it. You don't have to ask twice, or at all. What's that like? I've said it before, I'm not good at asking. So no, this post isn't about complaining. It's simply something to think about and plan ahead for should you ever be put in a situation where, like me, you're
alone.
There's "alone", and there's "abandoned." Whatever my situation is, I put it there all by myself. No one's fault but my own. Yes, I wish it was different, but it's up to me to make it so. I'm not a magnet like Ben was. But, I am everything that I'm missing. I am that person who would be there when you need me. I'm a good listener. I'll notice when you're missing. I love to do things for people when they can't. People ask why I don't charge for my photos . . . because it's one of the few things that I can *give*, and if I'm nothing else, I am a giver.
I've said that I live in the present, the "NOW", and I do, but I wouldn't be normal if I didn't fear a little for my future. Perhaps this is why I sit with the dying souls at the V.A. The other night I noticed a veteran who didn't seem to have visitors, and he seemed to be well "on his way". I asked the nurse about him and he told me that this vet only has a 91 year-old wheelchair-bound mother. He's only 51. I asked how long he might have. The nurse said he wasn't sure, but the fellow seemed to be hanging on when he should have been long gone. I said, "well, he has no one to tell him it's okay to go, that his mother will be okay." He said, "why don't you do that." Dêjá vu. I went in and watched him for awhile, and I knew he could still hear because he'd swallowed earlier when the nurse asked him to. I leaned over and softly told him it was okay to go, that his mother would be okay. But I went a step further and read to him from John 14. He passed away an hour and a half later. No, I don't know that it can be attributed to that, but I like to think it gave him peace.
Peace and a presence. Something we all want. Sometimes we just don't know how to ask.
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