Together

I saw an African Proverb yesterday that really spoke to me:

“If you want to go fast, go alone.  If you want to go far, go together.”

Good advice for anyone, really, that we’re meant to help one another through life as much as and as often as we can.   And after a nice family holiday dinner, it was just the thing to take me back to the beginning. 

Most people who know me know that my family is large.  I’m the youngest of 9 children in 11 years.  Not that shocking or Duggar-esque, just the way things were in a Midwest Catholic family at the time. I wouldn’t have it any other way.  People who know me may also know that my father was not present in the household during my childhood so when people meet my mother, often the first thing they ask her is “How did you manage to do it ALL BY YOURSELF!?!”  She will smile and joke that she barely remembers it or that she was on autopilot or some such thing, but the truth is this:  She didn’t do it herself. 

She had an army of loving support staff.  Her parents, her sisters and brothers (she was one of 7 herself), and an entire community of friends were there to help with the heavy lifting, to hold a hand, to catch us when we stumbled, to guide our way down the path, or to just offer a hug or a laugh at the appropriate times.  My mother raised us, but so did Grandma and Grandpa, Aunts Fran, Ruth and Kathy and Uncles Joe, Paul and Bill.  My extended family raised us, but so did Mrs. Isenhart, Mrs. Davis, and Mrs. Hill – along with whichever neighborhood or church lady who spied us straying from the path and sent us back on the way.  Knowing that we were always being watched over enabled my mother to do what she needed to do to take care of us without worry. 

Looking back with adult eyes, I realize what incredible freedom we had to just be kids and figure out who we are in our own ways.  We played hard.  We explored and took risks.  We went places that maybe kids shouldn’t be.  We saw things that maybe kids shouldn’t see.  Granted, the world was a bit different then and I probably wouldn’t let my own kids do some of the things we did, but I’m glad we had those experiences.  We grew up to be pretty fabulous people, if I do say so myself (and I will) and even though we felt untethered and independent, the reality is that someone was always, always there for us.  There has never been a time in my life – young or not so young – when I felt Unsafe, Uncared for, Unsupported, Unrespected, Unvisible, or (most important of all) Unloved.  (And yeah, I know some of those are not actual words, but you get my point.) 

I wish every child could know what that feels like.  I hope that my own children will look back on their own lives the same way.  

At home, we kids understood that we, as a family, were all in this together.  When Mom wasn’t available to keep things rolling, we worked together.  We fed each other and we tended boo-boos for one another as needed.  We helped with homework and projects and washed and folded laundry together.  We cheered victories such as a kick-ass drum solo, the latest two story backyard clubhouse, the best ever batch of cookies or the longest and loudest fart (there were six boys after all).  We weren’t perfect.  Brothers and sisters need to let off steam and we certainly bickered and aggravated one another, but we also policed one another and kept each other in line.  You can only get away with being a jerk for so long when a big brother or big sister is close by.  And just like the watchful ladies of the neighborhood, if one of us was about to do something stupid, a sibling would step in to (sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally) bonk us on the head and tell us to cut it out.  It usually worked. 

I often refer to our family unit as a “Box of Puppies” because that’s kind of what it was like.  Off chasing our own tails or wrestling or fighting over kibble, but at the end of the day, nestled back down in our box to snuggle and just love one another while we dreamt about someday catching that squirrel. 

We puppies are all grown up now, some with kids of our own and we are scattered across the country so we don’t see one another as often as we wish we could, but we are still Together.  We still cheer each other’s victories and lend a hand when and where we can.  When I said I was donating a kidney for my husband, my big brothers worried about me but trusted my word that I knew what I was doing.  My sister came to help us with our kids while we recovered.  My mother did the same, as did my husband’s mother.  Our community of family and friends surrounded us with love and support and showed up at our door with delicious food.  Everyone came Together for us and we were free to do what we needed to do for our family. 

Now, before anyone thinks I’m taking any credit away from my mother for the way we turned out, remember that there’s a reason we wild Albert kids knew we should work together.  We saw examples of it every day.  My mother was always taking a spare kid in under her wing if she saw a need.  Whether the kid needed a meal or a hug or just an ear, she welcomed them.  When we moved halfway across the country, she allowed a couple of wayward teen friends to join us because they needed it.  When we had a houseful of rambunctious kids in Baltimore, she opened our home to a young couple and their infant until they were able get their feet on solid ground.  When she and I were scraping by in particularly lean time, she still managed to feed strangers on her path.  Some people take in stray animals.  She takes in human beings in need of a little TLC.  She still does,  probably always will and no one will ever stop her. 

I get frustrated when I see people putting themselves before others when a little help would be such an easy thing to give.  I’m not talking about bringing strangers into your home or giving away your last can of tuna, I’m talking about the smallest kind acts.  Let someone merge in traffic.  Smile at your cashier.  Ask about their day for a change.  Hold a door open.  Anything to let another human being know that you see them, you care about their well being, and that you’ve got their back when they need it.  We human beings, just like my Box of Puppies, are pack animals and we are meant to be all in this together.  If we remember that, we can go far.  Together.