Sometimes I’m presented with an opportunity to help someone.
And I cuss.
Not always out loud.
I cuss at the situations this world creates.
I cuss at how it’s presented.
I cuss about the buck being passed.
Cuss at the always impeccable timing of being called five minutes before my quitting time.
Cuss at being told I was called so the caller could pass this on to me and go home.
Cuss at not having easy and always ready answers to all problems presented.
As I wind down the cussing.
And gear up the helping.
I step out of myself.
And in to someone else’s world.
I stand before a tiny little grey haired soul.
I look in to a life changed from youth and love and ability
To age and loss and loneliness.
I smile at the stories shared.
I laugh at the humor they still find in a world that has tried to discard them.
They’ve said “I love you” with enthusiasm.
And I’ve learned to say “thank you” with just as much zeal.
I’ve learned what it means to ‘make do’
From people who knew what ‘having nothing’ really meant.
I’ve seen grace
Staring back at me from faces framed with matted hair,
Robed in filthy clothes
And perfumed with the foulest odors.
I’ve learnt humility-
I’ve seen the truth of dignity-
And witnessed the depth of love.
And then I cuss at myself for cussing these opportunities.