I recently heard someone online say something about each of us contributing to the story of the world, and though that’s not a new concept or expression of it, it has stuck with me for several days. I heard it in a way I hadn’t before.

My life is now, and has always been, small. Low impact in the big scheme of things. I would venture that’s true of most people, really, though most people have children, and if nothing else, that will ensure their legacy over time. Life happens and nothing is guaranteed, so not a given that their genes will carry on, but usually.

Some people have lived big lives and may have contributed more, but small lives – most of us, and most of the folks throughout history – are part of the story, too, no matter how small the role they played. Even people like me, who have contributed very little – in fact, nothing, probably – that will live beyond us.

Each of us is unique, as are our lives, and the ways in which we choose to live them. I’ve made choices others have not, and vice versa. I’ve experienced things others have not, and vice versa. Our differences are to be celebrated, as is our sameness, our humanity.

The thing I like about thinking of contributing to the story of the world is that it recognizes that the story would not be complete without each and every contribution to it. Every single life matters, just as every word, every letter, matters in the whole of a story. Throughout all of human history, this has been true.

Everyone matters and everyone makes a contribution, for better or worse.

We matter to the people we know. Our families, our friends, co-workers and casual acquaintances, even. We may influence them in a way that causes them to do or not do something that affects someone or something else, thereby becoming part of their story.

We matter to the pets we have, the piece of the planet that we have cared for, and the people the work we do makes a difference for. We are good stewards and neighbors, or we aren’t. Either way, we matter.

In most cases, we have no idea how we influence other people, through our actions, or lack of action, our example. Family members have a profound effect on children, as do teachers, and even people who write children’s books.

I have learned something from every single person I have ever known.

Even sitting in my house, all by myself, sending these missives out into the world, I may have an impact on someone’s way of thinking, for better or worse. Even for just the short time it takes to read this, I’m part of the reader’s story.

Part of the world’s story.

Everyone matters. Everything matters, in my way of thinking. Even the smallest organisms on this planet are as important as I am, with just as much potential to change the story for one person or for many. If you doubt that, think about COVID-19. That little germ changed the whole world, and added to the story of every single person alive in 2020.

The fruit flies, tiny as they are, were part of my story this summer. Clare, Grace, Jonah, Jordan, Toby, Molly and Meg, and all of the other animals I have known, have contributed as much or more to my life than many of the people I have known. I changed Clare’s story when I picked her out of all the cats at the humane society the day I went there. My first cat, Jordan, changed my story when she picked me at the humane society and stuck around for 19 years.

The story continues everyday. It will continue beyond everyone reading this right now. While we were here, though, we contributed to that story, the story of us.

The whole wide world.

So the question, then, for me, is what is my contribution? In every moment of everyday I have the opportunity to choose my contributions to the world’s story, my own, and others’ stories, as well. Do I attempt to make the story better or not?

That’s a question I ask myself every day. How’d I do today? I focus now on being kind, on acknowledging our shared humanity when I encounter other people anywhere, and on being of use. Those are my goal contributions. I don’t always hit the mark, but I try, and I keep trying.

I’m conscious of my impact in my small world, my tiny life, in a way that helps determine my actions. I have a situation in my life with my mother and my role in her life that tests my ability to achieve those goals every single day. I’m grateful for that, because it gives me the opportunity everyday to be a better person, to write a better story.

I have a way to go to get there, but I believe it’s worth the effort.

By the way, I apply those goals to myself, too. I try to be kind and patient with myself, remember that I’m human and I have human needs, and I try to be of use to myself and my own life by taking care of my health. I intend to be here a while, so that’s part of the deal.

This human life is not easy, ever. It’s lots of things that are really great, but alongside those things, it’s hard. For everyone. The best thing about our lives, though, especially in the US and other free countries, is that at least most of the time, we have a choice in the way we behave and the actions we take.

We become part of the story, no matter what we do. I choose to add a “good” word, or at least the best one I can.

What about you?

✍️

It’s interesting to me how sometimes life seems to organize itself around themes. For instance, the theme for me this week has been integrity. I’ve encountered it in a book I’m reading, and in a YouTube video by a woman I watch weekly. It’s come up in conversations, and in the news. All of a sudden, I’m being schooled in integrity, which, I admit freely, hasn’t always been my best thing.

I am a conscientious person. I care about doing things correctly and helping where I can, and being responsible. I don’t always hit the mark, but I try really hard. The highest praise I ever received at work in 48 years came from a supervisor who said that she valued me because she always knew if she asked me to do something, it would be done.

Yep.

That’s me. I’m responsible, reliable, and capable. I was a Girl Scout, after all, and I took it seriously, I guess. I had good role models in my father and my grandmother, too, and believed that those qualities were what mattered in life and that they would carry me far. But integrity?

Harder.

Part of integrity requires that your actions match your thoughts and words. I exited a friendship this past year because that person had let me down one too many times; saying they would do something and then not doing it. Repeatedly. She’s a good person and I enjoyed our conversations, but I’d had enough.

The current hypocrisy in our government is hard to take, too. Politicians are known for that – being chameleon-like when campaigning depending on who they are speaking to, and then when elected, not doing what they say they would do. The current administration has taken that to new heights, but it’s mostly always been the nature of the game, to some degree, with a few notable exceptions.

Integrity matters.

It goes beyond politics and relationships, though. If you’re letting other people down, you are probably letting yourself down, too. If you say you really believe in something, and then do the opposite, that’s not integrity. Even if you really believe what you say, if your actions say something else, that’s hypocrisy, any way you slice it.

Actions have to match words, or there’s no real point to saying them. Just so much hot air.

Though I think of myself as being conscientious, I am well aware that I don’t always act with integrity. I advocate kindness, but I am not always kind. When I am struggling with depression, I lie easily. Mostly so I don’t commit to something I know I might not do, and so people don’t lose faith in me, but it’s still lying. I’m thankful that doesn’t happen as much as it used to, because I don’t go through those periods as frequently these days, and I’m more likely to be honest about it now, anyway.

Integrity is hard. I know I’ve let people down at times in my life. For me it was simply putting what I felt I needed at a particular time before what someone else expected from me. That’s self-care sometimes, but most often I shouldn’t have committed to do whatever it was, or allowed them to have that expectation, in the first place. That’s where integrity breaks down.

I lost my business because someone used my services for a long time without paying me, even though he made many promises along the way. He was a good salesman and I kept believing him. Actually, he did pay me everything he owed me years later, but by then the damage was done.

He believed he was a good person and a good businessman. I did the work he asked me to do, on time, and in full, and he expected to be able to pay me for that work when he asked me to do it, presumably, but then was unable to. Instead of being honest and telling me what happened and how he planned to fix it so that I could make a decision about whether I would continue to work for him, he lied. That was where his integrity and my trust in and respect for him ended.

Most people are not habitual liars or con artists. They’re just folks who have lost their sense of integrity, because they’re in a tight spot and can’t figure out the right way to get out of it, or even how to be honest about it. I’ve been there.

Sometimes it’s because they can’t see themselves as they really are, and can’t accept the reality that they are hurting someone else.

Life happens. Sometimes we just don’t or can’t live up to the promises we make to other people, or to the things we believe about ourselves, for whatever reason. When you lie about it, though, and end up letting someone down, or hurting another person, that’s where it all falls apart.

I try very hard not to let myself, or others, down now. I recognize my limitations in a way I didn’t as a younger person, and I have lower expectations and make fewer commitments to others, and to myself.

That experience with my client over 25 years ago actually convinced me to be more honest, to pay more attention to doing what I said I would do. The cool thing about humans is that we are not cast in cement. We can learn and change.

Caregiving has challenged my integrity, and I’ve gotten better at meeting the challenge as time has gone on. I show up for my mom and do what she needs me to do everyday, no matter what. There’s no one to fill in the gaps, even if I feel I need a break, and her needs do not diminish. They have increased dramatically over time, in fact. It’s not easy, but it is worthwhile and it means something to her to know she can count on me. It means something to me, too.

And then there are the times she drives me completely nuts, and I totally lose my cool.

So, there’s that. 🤦‍♀️

All we can do in any given situation is our best. I’m better than I used to be, and as long as I can say that everyday until I exit the planet, I’m good with that.

Contrary to Yoda, there is try and it matters. Do is wonderful, but not always possible; that’s just how it works out sometimes. As long as we keep trying to be our best, though, we get better, and happier, and more useful.

Striving everyday for integrity is one way to get there. ❤️

I like genealogy, and I’ve been researching family history for a long time now. I’m lucky enough to know who my birth parents are, so I’m able to research both my adoptive and birth families, and get the whole picture of who they were, and in doing so, who I am.

Plus, it’s fun!

Over the last weekend, Ancestry.com granted free access to Newspapers.com, so I spent some time searching for articles referencing my families. There was a time when I had a subscription to an online news clipping service like Newspapers.com, and I found a lot of relevant articles then, so I was excited to see what new stuff was online now. I found quite a bit this time, too, and made good use of the free period.

One of the things I particularly like about tracing family history is the perspective it gives me on my life, including how easy I’ve had it. Good reminder that for our ancestors, especially women, life was much more challenging in a lot of ways. It also gives me perspective on the flow of life in general, the way in which day-to-day events turn into a complete life, and how one life affects others.

One of the things I found over the weekend were court reports about the divorces of two of my mother’s relatives. Her grandfather, James, left her grandmother, early in her mother’s life, leaving her mother, my grandmother, and her sister, behind at a very young age. This was 1916, and there was no alimony or child support and my great-grandmother didn’t work. She started taking in sewing to pay the bills. I’m sure things seemed pretty dire.

In stepped my mother’s great-grandfather, Edward, James’ father. Ed’s wife had divorced him years earlier, so he was alone, and he moved in with his daughter-in-law and 2 granddaughters left behind by his irresponsible son (by Ed’s reckoning). The family thrived, thanks to Edward, and my grandmother grew up, got married and had my mother.

My mother’s father fell prey to a bad business deal, however, and their little family moved in with Edward and mom’s grandmother to ease financial pressure. My mother speaks about this time as one of the best of her life. She adored her grandmother, and was able to have a very close relationship with her, and her great-grandad, Ed, was her buddy for the time they were there. (He died shortly after they left). Mom was quite small, but she remembers that time very well, and it shaped who she was in a lot of ways.

So.

“Bad” things becoming good things. Things don’t always work out so neatly, but in my experience, they do pretty often. Enough not to lose hope when everything falls apart every now and again.

One decision can change everything, for better or worse.

That one moment reverberates throughout, not only the decider’s life, but also in everyone around that life, usually. Sometimes there are dire consequences, others much smaller impacts, but there are points in everyone’s life they can look back at and see the effects of key decisions, and the ripples in others’ lives that carried them in a new direction, too.

This week I also learned of a high school classmate’s death. He was not someone I knew well, but we had a small graduating class, 152 kids, so we all knew everybody on some level. Turns out he had a difficult life after high school, mostly because of addiction, which was a decision he made a long time ago. It shaped his whole life, costing him his marriage, his house, and apparently, his health. So sad. RIP Mike. Rest easy now.

My father’s decision not to quit smoking cost him his life, ultimately, but also 30 years of surgeries and treatments. My birthmother’s decision to relinquish me for adoption shaped me and my life profoundly. My birth-grandfather’s decision to move to northern Michigan for his career, brought my birthmother to this area, where she met my birthfather in school…

Certainly things happen that are outside our control, and many things that change us were not as a result of a decision we made. There are those life-changing moments, though, that we can look back to and see a direct line from there to here.

I think history is fascinating. I think family history is enlightening and is a concrete connection to human and world history. That’s why I love genealogy and why I do it. We stand on the shoulders of those here before us, and look ahead for those to come after. What decisions made now will affect us and the children to come?

This includes decisions in the voting booth, incidentally. Governments can have a profound effect on citizens’ lives, certainly.

It’s never just about me. I’m very aware of that. My life affects others as I have been affected by my parents, teachers, friends, extended family. Everyone is connected. Our decisions as humans affect the planet and the other walks of life here. It’s a web. Everything and everyone is connected. Touch one part of the web and it reverberates throughout the whole. One decision, one change, can affect many lives, and generations to come.

Families matter.

Family history matters.

Human history matters.

I am a part of it all. So are you.

What decision made today will carry us from here to there? Choose wisely, friends. Your very life, or someone else’s, may depend on it.

Sunday the toilet was almost overflowing. Tuesday night the power went out for 3 1/2 hours. Both those things sent me into a tailspin. Complete and total meltdown each time.

I plunged the toilet and it appears to be fine now. It might not be – time will tell – we’ve had a long history of drain problems with that house, but I’m hoping. There are usually other signs if it’s the drain, and a year and a half ago I spent ALOT of money to have it repaired, so I think we have a fair shot that it was just a clog.

The power thing on Tuesday night happened to the whole north side of town, so it wasn’t just about us. It lasted 3 1/2 hours, and ended before the estimated time we were originally told. It was the warmest night we’ve had in weeks, so that wasn’t an issue, and the elderly furnace and refrigerator restarted without any problems. The internet even came back online very quickly.

So it all ended happily. Most things do. I know that. Did that knowledge stop my meltdown?

Nope.

This has been a difficult summer. At turns challenging, at others, merely disappointing, but the result is that I’m worn out. My nervous system is on constant alert, as the challenging situations have been popping up rather regularly since May, and I haven’t been riding much – my usual defense against anxiety – since the weather has been less than amenable, and it’s been hard to align my mother’s schedule, my schedule, and good weather all summer.

Then there’s this other thing. In Buddhist literature, they refer to it as “the second arrow.” I don’t know when I started doing it, but it’s become increasingly a hindrance to my coping abilities, and it’s gotten worse over time.

When something challenging happens, that’s the first arrow. It’s something I have no control over, even something small, like the two things that happened this week. Just the normal slings and arrows of life that happen to all of us.

The second arrow, which I do have control over, is the story I tell myself as the anxiety and anger build.

The story is that it’s not FAIR that I should have to deal with whatever it is. After all, I’m a good person. I follow the rules. I try hard to live a good life. I’ve given up 14 years of my life to be a caregiver to my mother, for heaven’s sake, a woman who made my life miserable for most of it. What more do I have to do?

THIS SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING TO ME.

So, not only do I have to deal with whatever the problem is, I also have to deal with my brain conjuring up all the anger and resentment of 64 years on this planet.

The second arrow is the real challenge, and it’s completely voluntary and unnecessary. It’s not the thing itself, so much, it’s how I feel about having to deal with the thing. Almost immediately I draw back the arrow and let ‘er rip. Every. Single. Time. Mostly.

Not like a grown up. Not like a reasonably intelligent, capable, human being.

Like a spoiled child, and I know better.

Do I do better? No. I’m human, and life is hard sometimes.

Is it crap to think that way? Absolutely! I have it really good. I know that. Fair is a place with rides and games, not a realistic expectation for life on this planet. I know that, too.

However, I’m still launching that second arrow straight into my head when confronted with almost every challenging situation. Over and over again. It’s not helpful, and it makes everything so much worse, but I do it almost every time.

Not every time, I’m happy to say, and that makes me feel like there will come a point at which I get over myself and just get on with things always, but I’m not there yet, obviously.

My path through this life has been one step forward, two steps back, from the beginning. I get where I’m headed eventually, but I take the longest possible route to get there. I make things harder than they need to be. I have no clue why. Just the way I’m made, I guess. I’ve been carrying that quiver full of arrows for a long time, and I hope someday I can just leave it by the side of the road and walk on.

Someday soon.