Caring a little can help a lot
“Would ya look at that?” Geoff said.
“What?” Celeste asked.
“The pup made an exclamation point on the carpet.”
“That’s not funny.” Celeste’s nose was snarled in disgust.
Curious, I looked in from the kitchen to see for myself. “Hey,” I said. “It does look like an exclamation point. And look over there - an ellipsis.”
“That’s NOT funny,” Celeste said again. “I just cleaned up a puddle a few minutes ago. And now this.”
I handed her the paper towels.
“Maybe he’ll get like that spider from ‘Charlotte’s Web’ and start spelling out words,” said Geoff. “He’s got punctuation down.”
Although I expected more whining, Celeste cleaned up the creatively placed droppings of her obviously well-fed little dog with just two or three sighs. (Long and loud sighs.)
I’ve been pleased by how well she’s held up to her promise to care for her pup. But to be honest, I’m a bit surprised, too. I expected the novelty of having a dog of her own would quickly wear off, that she’d begin attempting to shirk her responsibilities a little at a time.
Although there have been a few slips, rather than shirking, she’s been taking on more responsibility for our other animals without being asked, recognizing and taking care of their needs. Filling their food and water dishes, brushing their hair, cleaning off that disgusting eye gunk (but so far, not tending to litter boxes). Caring a little led to caring a lot. It was an outcome I hadn’t expected.
When I mentioned that to Geoff, though, he didn’t seem too surprised.
“Taking care of someone else takes you out of yourself,” he said. “Suddenly, you aren’t all that matters. Your sacrifice isn’t that big a deal because what you’re working for or who you’re helping becomes more important.”
He went on to tell me how, many years back, not long after he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, a close friend was going through some serious medical problems of her own. Even though his situation had him feeling spent, he pushed aside what was happening in his world and instead focused on helping her get better. When her situation was finally stable, he said his concerns, which had once seemed so overwhelming, had shrunk down to something completely manageable.
“Maybe that’s why therapists suggest their patients to do volunteer work,” I said. “It not only distracts, but reframes. Seeing someone else’s problems can minimize yours.”
It reminded me how, several months after my baby died from spinal muscular atrophy, a man I’d never met called asking if I’d consider talking to a couple whose baby had just been diagnosed. I told him I had nothing to offer this couple, that I was still too big a mess to do any good. Still, he seemed so confident I could help that, ignoring my doubts, I agreed to visit them in the hospital.
The couple had a million questions. I had a half-million answers. They cried, and I consoled them. I cried, and they consoled me. I’m not sure which of us that visit helped more, but I know when I left, I felt better than I had in a while.
“The more you give, the more you get” is something of an overused phrase, and while it makes sense, it also seems incomplete. Like it needs a few different words. Perhaps, “The more you give, the more you can give up.” Amazing things become possible when the self is sacrificed to benefit others.
And it seems appropriate that we’re celebrating today, Easter Sunday, in honor of the most important sacrifice of all.
