Four Miles To Go

I was driving somewhere I didn’t want to go.  I was feeling grumbly about having to go there.  I’d been down this road, this actual road, to this destination before.   To no avail.  To do anyone any good I needed to change my outlook.

And quick.

I looked at my mileage and knew I had four miles to go until I reached my destination.

In a short period of time I needed to change my attitude.

I didn’t know what else to do so I said out loud “please just let me be able to help”.  It instantly worked.  There was nothing magical about it, saying it.  Yet, there’s something magical about hope.  And possibility.  And the idea of just maybe.  Just uttering those words reminded me of the possibility.

I know that I get frustrated, not because I am asked to help, but because I know how powerless I am to make a change for someone else without their consent.  I reminded myself that it’s not my choice.  It’s someone else’s.  All I can do is offer.

When I uttered those words I felt a bit of relief.   Just a little bit like a pressure valve being let open.

Those four miles went by too quickly.  Or maybe just quick enough.  Because I was still feeling hopeful when I got there.

Truthfully, I wasn’t able to help.   I wanted to.  But my offer and my presence were not welcomed.

I didn’t do anyone else any good today.   But I did myself a little bit of good.  It’s difficult being in a position where you are called on to make a difference, and you can’t.   You end up feeling like you let part of the world down.

You feel let down yourself.

Then, you get another call, on another day.   You get in the car and drive towards that destination.   Sometimes feeling grumbly.  Sometimes feeling like you’re wearing a super power cape and you’re on your way to save the world.  Or someone’s world.  Sometimes you’re a little worried, skeptical, maybe even fearful.

And you say “please just let me be able to help”.    And you’re transported to the reason you do what you do.  You feel that moment of hope.  That moment of possibility.

That moment of just maybe.

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40 thoughts on “Four Miles To Go

  1. Sounds like the perfect moment to me, the hope in just maybe. 🙂


  2. You can’t be everything to everyone…no matter how hard you try….but it’s always nice to try.


  3. You tried, and it will be remembered. Ripples in the water.


  4. tric says:

    Pity it didn’t work out but we can only live our own life and you know you tried with a heart and a half.


  5. ksbeth says:

    this is wonderful and i have been in this position before and know how it feels. all we can do is offer our help, our hope, without expectation. sometimes it is taken, and sometimes not, and it is in the offering that we are humbled and filled with gratitude for the opportunity.


  6. Val Boyko says:

    Resilient loving spirit 💕


  7. I’m so sorry you were not able to help that one person who didn’t want you to be there. It just wasn’t their time yet to be helped. When that time arrives from the cosmos, you WILL be able to help. Think of the hundreds/thousands of people that you ARE able to help! You really do wear a supercape!


  8. I love how you turned your disappointment into a lesson for us. You’re a gem. And that was a very powerful “just maybe.” Thank you friend. ❤


  9. April says:

    Hope…sometimes the only thing we have.


  10. Mustang.Koji says:

    You possess a strength in your character that I will never have… a good heart.


  11. reocochran says:

    Just maybe counts a lot. In preschool special education we have scheduled home visits. We bring little collections of nice stuff and center the time on the kids. Every so often: no one home. Sometimes: house in shambles. One time was dangerous but hilarious now, thinking back. The family had paid to have a pig slaughtered. There were pieces of pork all over table, trying valiantly to bag it up in their mind “a proper way.” The toddler was in living room with a piece of fat in hand and his pup by his side. Approaching baby takes bite, pup licks pork. Yuck! Teacher asst pulled out wipes, gave dog the pork, toddler cried. We rummaged in bag and got fruit snacks out. We colored and whispered. The next week, we brought the OSU extension “god-sent lady.” We called minutes before arrival. She gave lesson about germs. Using tiny container and 3 corn kernels. Then, explained minutes would pass and it would multiply. She had like those little Asian/Turkish/Russian cups inside cups which have a bambushka or baby being the last. It was the first in this case. The adults’ mouths showed horror at the amount of germs they may have spread on table, faucets, etc. We told them as long as they froze it all probably okay to eat. (It cost a lot to get it cut up but wondered why money didn’t include freezer bags? It came wrapped in butcher’s paper, Colleen.)


  12. Lovely piece and you leave questions in my mind, where were you going, what kind of help, how and why, I guess that makes your writing very exciting and makes me think and wonder….. Love Lynn


  13. Heartafire says:

    I’m so moved Chatter, I think most of us have needed to help and want so badly to but without the means to do so, how sad it makes us. Hats off to you Colleen, you do good!


  14. Debra says:

    So many people are unwilling to even try to help. You really put yourself out there. I admire that, Colleen.


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