Mike Murray
in my own words
32 ft/sec/sec
Aim High
And Winter Came
Aunt Betty
Christmas Bells
Counting Christmases
Day's End
Earning Their Wings
Footprints in the Sand
Full Ciircle
George, Dewey & Amber
George Maciuszko
I Am Not
In Sarah's Arms
Inner Voice
Irish Eyes
It's For Them
Just Do Something
More Good Than Bad
More Than I Deserve
Mother's Little Helper
My Hero, My Wife
Nobody's Fool
Not One Puff
Nothing Like a Mother
Out of Africa
Reason to Believe
Riding in Cars
Scraping By
Second Best
Secret Wish
She's the One
(Shoestring) Salvation
Small Things
Snowprints
So Long, Hal
Still, They Sing
Take Care of You
The Gift of Comfort
This Giving Season
This Healing Season
Uncommonly Good Man
What About Bob?
When She Goes
The Gift of Comfort

-- by Mike Murray

"Lousy." That's what Betty said when I asked how she was doing. Her husband of many years had passed away only a few months earlier, and she was in no mood to feign cheerfulness . Her pain was still fresh -- and she let me know it.

I was grateful that she did. Had she not, we would have exchanged a few superficial pleasantries and then I would have continued on my way. As it was, I stopped and chatted with her for some time. Janna, usually impatient over interruptions to our walks, seemed to understand. She parked herself on Betty's front lawn and calmly waited.

The particulars of our conservation were unimportant. What mattered was that we established something meaningful in our previously casual relationship: the understanding that it was okay to be vulnerable, to ask one another for help. Because that is precisely what Betty did by replying, "lousy."

It was so little of her to ask -- a few moments of someone's time. A willingness of someone to hear her, really hear her, as she revealed the emotional difficulty she was experiencing. An opportunity to let go, if only briefly, of the burden of pretending (for the benefit of others) that she was doing better than she was.

At one time or another, most of us have found ourselves in that dark state. For some, it follows a death. For others, the precipitating factor is the collapse of a long-term relationship. For the most unfortunate among us, despair is less intense but more protracted -- born of a life-long absence of intimacy.

Myriad factors contribute to emotional distress. But none does so more profoundly, it seems to me, than loneliness. And loneliness is never more devastating than during the holidays. For those already feeling isolated, observing others celebrating with loved ones only heightens anxiety.

Generosity abounds during this giving season. Many make provisions for the less fortunate, donating both time and money. It is well that they do. But there is something more, something remarkable, that we all can do -- irrespective of station in life or financial means. We can ease suffering, merely by making ourselves emotionally available.

Everyone craves companionship. When we offer it, we provide a measure of comfort. Few gifts are greater than that.




Copyright © 2011 Michael F. Murray -- All rights reserved.


See Also: Christmas (and other seasonal) essays



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