In light of all the upfront and center news that can drag us down and leave us wondering what is happening to humanity, I’d like to share something small and meaningful (and yes, sad) that I witnessed recently...and because I firmly believe what we focus on grows, I encourage each of you to share (here or elsewhere!) things that have left you feeling equally filled and lifted.
Things filled with the kind, caring, joyful, compassionate humanity that surrounds us every single day.
Here’s my story…
A busy street.
A small, small dog. Obviously no longer alive. In the middle of this busy street.
Many a car swerving around this little guy. Mine included–and since my destination was less than a block away, by the time I got out of my car I was torn and heartbroken. Someone’s lovely little pup was gone.
I stepped into the store and asked if someone could join me to backtrack and hopefully scoop the little body up and at the very least set it to the side of the road…respectfully, carefully. And maybe, who knows, there’ll be a collar on this pup.
A clerk grabbed a small blanket and off we went.
And here is what completely touched both me and the clerk so very, very deeply.
By the time we returned–only minutes following my passing this little dog, cars were stopped in the street–both directions and on the nearby intersection, as well–and people from two other cars were out gently tending to this little guy.
And each and every car in line–both directions on this busy street–had their hazard lights on and blinking. Taking real care that anyone approaching from either direction would slow and stop as well. And they did. With lights on and blinking.
The clerk and I slowed, watched, and felt that moment of respect and gratefulness for all who paused to quietly wait and perhaps even grieve a bit. It felt like the moment of silence we give those who’ve passed at special ceremonies. Maybe someone in one of those cars was anxious to move on, who knows. But with hazard lights on, it felt more like a community pulling together for a brief moment to support others in their sadness.
We both found ourselves crying–for the little moment of PAUSE everyone on their busy way gave; for the sadness a family was sure to be immersed in; for the little dog who, probably out of joy for a bit of freedom, had run right out into this street; for the compassion shared.
Really, it was a beautiful moment. One filled with compassion, connection, even a quiet joy in the midst of very real pain.
These little moments? They count. And they can
make our world better.
I feel grateful I witnessed it.
Alice
Author and Parent Coach
©2018 Alice Hanscam