With her head bent low and her eyes laser-focused on the sidewalk before her, she slowly made her way around the park. Step by step, one foot in front of the other. Never looking back to see how far she had come. Never looking up to see how far she had left to go. Nothing mattered except the next step. Each one was measured. Each one was slow in its completion. But each one consistently followed the one that had come before. It reminded me of someone trying to carefully walk through a sea of molasses.
She was obviously struggling but also obviously determined to reach her goal. I was there as well, attempting to walk laps that would at some point equal a mile. It was late in the evening—almost closing time for the park—but a breeze was gently stirring the trees and the thickness of the summer air had settled into a breathable vapor. I kept telling myself I could do this while my hips were arguing to the contrary. That was when our paths crossed, or actually, when my lap and her lap briefly coincided. We were both headed in the same direction, but at different speeds with different goals. Mine . . . to walk four laps without dying or melting or dying and then melting. Hers . . . to finish one.
I admired both her determination and the grit that produced it. Even though I didn’t know her, I could see it written across her face and in her focus, and I’m sure those character traits have carried her through many difficult situations and challenges. She didn’t have to be in that park on that muggy summer night. For reasons only she knew, she chose to be. And she was going to complete the mission she had assigned to herself.
There are more people in this world than we can possibly imagine who are plodding through Life, usually as a result of Loss and the Grief that follows. Whether it’s due to a job that ends, a home that’s destroyed, a loved one who dies, or a whole host of other possibilities, they are just trying to put one foot in front of the other, moving through that metaphorical sea of molasses. Too often we overlook them. We’re too focused on our own path . . . too overwhelmed with our own struggles . . . too busy with our own lives to see how much strength and willpower they have to summon just to survive. So, today I want to encourage you to see the people around you. Not just visually acknowledge their presence, but to see them. At some point we will all struggle. At some point we will all need to draw on our inner strength—the grit from which determination and perseverance grow. And at some point, that inner strength will miserably fail us, because no one can always be strong. That’s when the outstretched hand of a friend, or even the concern of a stranger, can make all the difference in the world.
About the author: Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth-generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926 and has worked with Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 45 years. Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.
