Sometimes I like to think about what my being alive means. Not to myself, but to people who's lives I touch. And not those directly associated to me, like family and friends, but the lives of strangers I'll never know or meet again.
Yet what about the significant moments? What about those things we know about, or more often, don't know about, that ultimately benefit somebody else in a very big way.
It's a "George Bailey" kind of thing I'm talking about here. It's the curiosity about how one life impacts the lives of others, and how it's absence might change the world of so many without their even knowing it.
Yet what about the significant moments? What about those things we know about, or more often, don't know about, that ultimately benefit somebody else in a very big way.
Here's an example, from an email a friend sent me some time ago, relaying an experience he had while driving on a highway late one evening.
"I saw a car up ahead in the fast lane, crunched up against the cement wall. I didn't see any flashing lights, so I pulled to the right shoulder behind a semi with its flashers on. The guy in the semi runs up to me to say there was an accident, so I tell him to go up the road, with his flashlight, to try to warn motorists.I yell across two lanes of traffic to the guy standing next to his car in the fast lane, telling him to come to the shoulder of the road as soon as he can. He does, and I ask him a few questions to assess his mental state. He seems fine.Not five minutes later, a pick up truck coming down the freeway doesn't see us flagging traffic -- and slams in to the car stopped in the fast lane, right where the guy had been until I told him to get out of the road."
Doesn't it make you shudder to think of how a simple gesture on your part can change somebody's life? It does for me.
Many years ago, while working out at the gym, I was not as conscious of how my actions might adversely affect others. An older heavy-set woman approached the treadmill beside me, attempting to figure out just how to use it. I smugly thought to myself that it was ridiculous that she'd be allowed to use equipment without proper training, and although I could have easily started talking to her and guiding her on the proper steps to safely use the equipment, I just kept on my own pace. I took a "figure it out yourself" approach. I'm quite embarrassed to admit that. Especially given that the poor woman ended up, a moment or two later, hitting the start button and being flung down and backward along the treadmill and onto the floor. (This was before treadmills were designed to only start at a very slow speed.)
I jumped off, stopped her treadmill, and tried to comfort her while the staff, and ultimately, the paramedics, worked to assess her injuries, position her on a stretcher, and wheel her into the ambulance waiting in the parking lot.
I could have prevented that. I had the opportunity to do so. Yet I failed to, consciously, and I've never forgotten it, let alone forgiven myself. I learned a valuable lesson that day, at the expense of another. And I've tried to never let it happen again.
Sometime around 2001 or 2002, well before the kids were born, we were renting a duplex that was positioned on a well-travelled street. Next door was another duplex, occupied at the time by a German couple with a very young toddler, about 1-year-old or so. As I was leaving for work one morning, I found, standing at the curb behind my car, working his way towards the busy morning commute traffic, that little boy.
I immediately recognized the danger in the situation, and I also knew that I'd not want to startle or scare him into proceeding into the street. So, I slowly approached, using a soft voice to gain his attention, and squatted down to gently pick him up. I took him back to his front door where his mother, who didn't speak English, was sitting on the other side of their gate and returned him to her. To this day, I don't think she realizes just how close her son came to being hit, and likely killed. I certainly do, though, and I still cringe at the thought of having walked out just 1 minute later. Yet I revel in knowing that I was instrumental in preventing a tragic occurrence. Something he'll never know about.
What was it Clarence said? "You've been given a great gift, George: A chance to see what the world would be like without you.".
That seems like something we all have the chance to experience with a little introspection and reflection.