The Joy of Connection (Part 1)
Strangers Who Understand
(Time Period: Within the last ten months of my mother’s life, under hospice care.)
Dinner was about to be served and it was time to wrap up our visit. As Jess and I were on our way out, we turned to see Gabriel wheeling Mom to the head of the table. Rather than transfer her to the dining room chairs, it was better – safer and less of a fall risk – to have her stay in the wheelchair now. Today Mom was smiling, her appetite was good and she had the energy to hold herself up for a meal with the group. It was more common, however, to find her leaning to one side, no matter how much the caregivers repositioned her or propped her up with pillows. That Mom might slide out of the chair was a constant concern.
Jess unlocked the car door and suggested we head directly to a store to find a makeshift seatbelt. We drove to REI (the outdoor sports equipment store) in search of a solution. It didn’t dawn on us that these wheelchair accessories are readily available online or at medical supply stores.
It was dinnertime and we were getting hungry. On a mission, I walked quickly through the aisles and a blur of tents, water bottles, lanterns, ropes and kayak paddles. Spotting a salesperson I explained our predicament with a patchwork of words: my mother, Alzheimer’s, just put on hospice, sliding out of her wheelchair and “do you have any ideas.” Probably not his usual request from a customer.
He considered my question thoughtfully then said the only thing that came to mind was a bungee cord. Knowing that wasn’t the right solution, we shook our heads in unison. As I thanked him for trying, I noticed his scruffy beard and kind eyes. We stood in the aisle a moment longer, enough for him to say:
My father is going through that right now. We’re all in this together.
I nodded in appreciation. Kindness from a stranger? Yes, it was that, but what struck me most was his quiet strength and gentle reassurance.
We’re all in this together.
Just in case you’re starting to twitch at those words, keep in mind this was years before the Covid pandemic and before the PSA campaigns that were criticized for promoting a false sense of unity. Some felt the catchphrase “We’re all in this together” and other similar sentiments didn’t account for the disparate circumstances of individuals, the different degrees of hardship or suffering.
You can’t always predict how an intended message will land. The REI salesperson, however, wasn’t trying to sell me a slogan. To my ears his heartfelt words were a calm statement of fact.
My father is going through that right now. We’re all in this together.
Standing in that aisle and despite my dinnertime hunger pangs, I paused a minute longer to receive the gift of connection. Though momentary, it bolstered me. Apparently I was the one that needed the extra support that day, not the wheelchair. It turned out that Mom was fine without the seatbelt.
In that short exchange with the salesperson, it was clear that in caring for his father, he had been reflecting and gaining insight. More than his actual words, what I felt from him is that he was able to hold sadness and a level of joy at the same time. And that is what I needed the most. To hold both.
We are not alone. Notwithstanding our different circumstances, we are in this together. When we open to this reality, the joy of connection comes in.
Woman at the Spring
Earlier this year (six years after my encounter at that sports equipment store) my sister was standing in line, waiting to fill three large containers with water from a natural spring. Lori lives in New Hampshire and visiting the spring is something she does routinely. The man in front of her had some physical limitations and asked her for assistance which she provided. Once her turn, she started to fill her own containers.
A woman in line behind her greeted Lori and after some light conversation, Lori burst into tears as she explained that her thirty year-old daughter was recently diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. There at the spring, this woman – a stranger – offered a spontaneous prayer that comforted my sister greatly.
What are we Looking For?
What is it about conversations with strangers? Certain encounters give us permission to show our vulnerability, especially when we are being strong for our loved ones.
What are we looking for?
Connection, consolation and strength.
The grace to go on.
A sign that all is well even when it does not look or feel that way.
My sister and I were humbled and fortified by our brief interactions with strangers who showed us:
You are not alone in this.
As I’ve stated previously, these With Grace stories are not just about Alzheimer’s. Any encounter we have holds the opportunity to open our hearts and to experience the joy of connection.
Reflection:
- When have you had an interaction with a stranger in which you felt there was a mutual understanding or connection?
- Were you on the receiving end or were you the one offering encouragement?
Note: Some names in these With Grace reflections have been changed for privacy.
Thank you for these real life stories.
What I mostly gain from the stories is that we need to slow down a bit, pay more attention and be more sensitive to others as this just may encourage someone else to “power through” their struggles.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts. So true. I’ll be saying more about the “slow down a bit” aspect in Part 2.
my daughter laughs that strangers always speak to me. Random thoughts, random comments but I think its the fact that I seem approachable and maybe needed that i get the most joy out of these encounters
Great that your daughter sees that in you :) Amazing how small or random encounters can provide such joy. They must be more important than we even realize.
Your essay strikes a chord as we have just lived through the final stages of Anne’s mother life. Throughout the journey we experienced random acts of consideration, kindness and understanding from healthcare professionals. Their professionalism and devotion were emotionally moving and appreciated. There are some truly wonderful people out there.
Yes. So glad that was your experience as you cared for Anne’s mother.
Ginny – what beautiful stories – In compassion, there is hope.
Yes, those words will stay with me, Annie: “In compassion there is hope.”
Beautiful writing! Good reminder how words can have a profound impact at any given time.
Thank you, Anne.
Thank you for sharing these lovely real life stories. I have experienced your random act of kindness and so very glad our paths have crossed. You are a blessing to others. Keep up your writing!
Thank you, Janice. The blessing is mutual.
Ginny, I’m delighted to read your messages with In the Current. Always an inspiration and thought provoking.
And I’m delighted to see you here :) Thank you, Tina.
Ginny, such grace and beauty in your story. Connection, care and an awareness that we really are in this together. Love you.
Rachelle
Thank you, RaRa and love you back.
Ginny I enjoyed so much reading this.
So glad you did, thank you.
So true. We never know how our simple comments affect others in meaningful and profound ways. A simple smile, a nod of the head or wink can mean a lot to a stranger in an elevator or on a line in a store. Imagine what a kind word can do.
It’s true! Never too small to count.