Domestic violence within a loving home filled with children just seems so wrong. I remember. It is 2 a.m. on a cold winter night; the doctor covering for my PCP returns my page. In a small voice, I explain that my husband had pulled my middle finger back so far it was grotesquely bent. The male doctor non-chalantly, and perhaps a bit annoyed at being woken up from his beauty sleep, suggested a trip to the emergency room. I didn't go, but I should have because the episodes happened again... and again.
There have been so many incredible and generous people who have been part of our village, providing love and support in many forms to my children during a very tough few years. It seems only natural to pay that kindness forward, to a family led by an amazing mom who has no idea the strength she does have. Holding her in my arms after dropping off some bags of food, through her emotions and tears, she swore she wanted to write thank you notes and couldn't imagine that people cared this much.
I do care. My family cares. My friends care. My clients care. We will help her through this by providing some of the physical "things" she needs, but also listening ears when and if she wants them. I've been there, even now he tries to cause me pain. Some days it works, most days I just ignore him.
What is a village? It might be extended family, friends, or a faith community (church/temple). But, often times, when those supports don't exist or are stretched thin, it can include colleagues and sometimes folks who want to stay anonymous. (I remember "Santa Claus" showing up on my doorstep in 2007, when I had no money to buy gifts for my kids, and when their stockings were filled with M&M tubes, ponytail holders, and 99 cent bottles of nail polish). Three years ago, dear friends offered to serve as trustees so that I could buy property and rebuild my credit as a single person, not attached to my ex-husband. That is obviously a large offering, but the small things (ie: food, a funny and/or inspiring card, rides, childcare, or simply a listening ear) meant just as much.
What does it mean to pay it forward? To me, it signifies being the recipient of a good deed and recognizing and honoring that by practicing random acts of kindness to another. The world survives, and our communities thrive, when folks help one another. In the circle of life, sometimes you are able to give help, sometimes you need to learn how to accept help even if it goes against every grain of your soul, and sometimes to keep your sanity in-tact you choose to save your emotional strength for those you love and only them. But we are never in the same place permanently, those of us with empathy, at least.
My nine year old and I discussed donating money and goods to families who are going through tough times. She may be single-digits, but she is wise beyond her years. She remembers her father smothering me with a pillow, as well as the depression I went through a year after that episode. We figured out that simply smiling at someone who might be having a bad day at Horn Pond or Dunkin' Donuts is a way to make the world just a tiny bit brighter. It is just part of our personalities to be friendly and offer a smiling "thanks- have a nice day" to everyone, including those who bag our groceries and sweep the floor. Likewise, I typically make eye contact and say hello to those I pass on a walk or hike. Common courtesy, not being fake, never causes harm and usually encourages good.
Another family is going through something similar to the the life-changing, mind-numbing, and downright cruel experience we lived four years ago. There is no melodic terminology to describe that kind of pain. Simply put, it sucks, as well it can very well suck the humanity out of your soul. Hopefully, we are able to "pay it forward" and help be part of the village of people who can help lift the spirits of folks who are going through the darkest of dark days.
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