Strength in Numbers

When my daughter, Julia, sprained her ankle, I felt sorry for her but I couldn’t “feel” her pain. Neither could I imagine the clumsiness she felt trying to maneuver the crutches. I quickly grew weary of her daily complaining.

Six months later, I sprained my own ankle, tearing ligaments when I fell off my mini-trampoline. Like Julia, I suffered through two days of “Ace, ice, and elevate.” I took crutch-walking lessons at the hospital and gingerly negotiated the steps at home, fearful that I’d fall off every step. I winced in pain and was finally able to commiserate with Julia, who was the only one of my children who truly understood my plight.

Until we’ve actually been there, none of us can really feel the pain or heartache experienced by another. That’s why, during a time of crisis, it’s so important to reach out to others who have experienced similar circumstances.

--For the alcoholic, to lean on a recovered alcoholic at an AA meeting.

--For a widow or widower, to mingle with other people who have lost a spouse.

--For a victim of cancer or any medical illness, to seek people who have suffered through and conquered the same illness.

--For a divorced person, to reach out to others whose marriages have shattered and who have learned to pick up the pieces.

There are times when we all feel abandoned as we navigate from one struggle to another. But the one thing that we can be sure of is that we are not alone. There are always other people who have gone through or are still in the midst of going through similar struggles as our own.

Strength in numbers is not just a trite saying. It’s a powerful way to navigate the hurricane waters that seem to swallow us whole. Strength in numbers means allowing others who are perhaps even more experienced than we are at this particular form of grief to be there for us with smart words, a warm hug, a place to rest and a listening ear.