As I turned on the morning news, I saw and heard something all too familiar. The sights and sounds of what had happened in Brussels evoked too many feelings of dismay and sadness. I went about my morning routine, got in the car, and began my trek to a nearby town to do a radio spot. And the tears streamed down my face.
I was once told I felt things too deeply - that I must learn I couldn't control the things happening around me, so I may as well start building a little protective wall around my heart. Well, sorry - no can do. Thus the tracks of tears through my makeup this morning. And wouldn't you know it? The radio spot is also broadcast on the local access television channel, so I'm certain I was quite the pretty sight.
Through my thought process, one bright ray of light shone through. Sunglasses are no help at all when that happens, but it leaves quite an impression on the brain. While I can't control what's happening halfway around the world, I can continue to help families care for their loved ones here at home. I can do more for the people in my little orbit, or broaden my orbit to include more touchpoints. That's something my mind can absorb without shattering, something my heart can manage without breaking.
I can continue to advocate for more accountability in care, encourage families to ask more questions and for them to understand they deserve what they are promised. In our little corner of the world, we strive to do what we say we will do, because we know it's the follow-through that can make the difference between lack of trust and peace of mind. As great as the relief can be for a family when the promises are made, there is very little so devastating as the promise broken. The promise fulfilled, however, is like nothing else.
You see these hands? They are the hands of my sister and my mother. They are the hands of promise. The same promise my family has made to each other is no less a commitment to me than the promise we make to other families.
Driving down the road this morning, I couldn't help but puddle up. Story of my life. Coming in to our little home office, though, I couldn't help but smile. We're making a difference in our world, doing what we can control, loving families as if they were our own. Yes, there is sometimes sadness involved. But, oh my, what unequivocal joy sweeps over us when we know we've done our part.