Hear Our Voice

Also available in the August 2018 digital version of the Meyerlander Monthly.

Harvey was a most unwelcome guest to a party none of us planned. And despite the fact that Harvey was such a party pooper, he didn’t push people away from the party – in fact, the more Harvey poured himself on to our party, the more and more the people came. By foot, by boat, by plane and train, rescuing, saving, offering their most sincere efforts to save lives. And we were rescued too.

Carried by boat from Braesvalley to Endicott to Jason and then onto 610, then shlepping through the rain, walking northbound on the southbound, trying to stay in contact with our friend and our rescuer, we finally arrived at their home, our safe haven. Our hosts declared with glee, “We have food and drink and bed and even clothes to warm and comfort and assure you that you are not alone.”

Food piping hot, delivered to the table, served onto our plates, a blessing of respite offered just shy of tears at the ready. As we sat and ate and began to feel the warmth of safety once again, despite the memories of pasta and garbage and furniture floating by in 3 feet of water, our hosts chimed, “We are so glad you are here. We are so happy that we could welcome you.”

Dinner comes to a close and as “good guests,” we have been trained to clear our plates and offer to help clean up. “No, please,” the hosts insist. “You are our guests. Look what you’ve been through. We can do this.” Following a bit of argument and not a little consternation, finally undermined by pure exhaustion, we accept the gracious offer
to simply go to bed.

In the morning, we are sure to offer thanks. The gratitude we feel pouring from our hearts, we say, “Thank you.” And the hosts, with generous smiles, offer in return, “Don’t worry about it.” “It was nothing.” “We are of course happy to do it.”

And so goes the banter of unrequited receiving and giving. It’s a trop, a mantra, if you will: not wishing to be in need of support, not wishing to accept the thanks. This resistance to the humble reception of gifts offered and acceptance of thanks earned, may be the most tragic result of our modern day pledge to independence
and self-reliance.

Why must we so often resist the kindness and generosity of others? Are we afraid to be seen as vulnerable? Do we fear that to admit need makes us appear like we don’t have it all together? Does the shame fall upon us because we didn’t have a plan or because we
didn’t evacuate or because we simply “should” have known better? And why must we resist their gratitude? “It was nothing.” Or “Think nothing of it.” Or “I’m sure it was nothing you wouldn’t have done if the tables were turned.”

But the tables weren’t turned. Why must we resist the recognition that we did indeed act with righteous intent and effect? Are we so afraid that others might think it presumptuous of us?  Gratitude is the lifeblood of relationships but it requires a common understanding that to do for the other and to be done for by the
other are the reciprocal actions that make the blood of relationships flow. So let us then be willing to say the simple words in response to someone’s gratitude. Not, “It was nothing.” Or “Think nothing of it.” Or “You don’t need to thank me.” But see, I do need to thank you. I NEED to recognize my vulnerability and say, “were it not for your kindness, I don’t know how or where we would be right now. Your opening your home to us created a space in our hearts to love life even more than we thought possible.” This openness may be scary but it’s true and our world is made better when we can live these feelings into the world.

Being vulnerable isn’t a choice we make. Vulnerability is the reality of being alive. All the efforts otherwise, to somehow protect ourselves, to guard ourselves, to build a fortress of self-reliance, so as to never be a burden, so as to never be a weight upon someone else’s shoulders, are done in vain. All we have is our inter-connectedness.
None of us is our own source of power and strength and hope and
faith. Thank you Harvey for this grand reminder