The Essence of Life

Originally uploaded by laundrylessons.

The card stuck on my laundry room bulletin board offers up yet another tasty morsel for me to ponder as I try to differentiate the soccer socks of an eleven year old and those belonging to a nine year old. The variation is about an inch in the toes and the tops. Glancing at the board, trying to decide what piece of myself is best reflected this week I am immediately drawn to the section of a card that reads: The Essence of Life is to Care.

I think the essence of something is its soul. In food terms the essence of the meal is the main course (although dessert is the most fun), the essence of my sleep is the pillow, and the essence of my garden is the pale pink climbing rose. So can caring, as my card defines, really be the main event of life. What about love, and peace and joy? Even that bland little word “happiness” seems to get more attention than caring. But all those big-concept buzz words, those Christ-like attributes, can all be wrapped up with a neat curly-ribbon and delivered to someone by caring deeply for them.

When we’re caring for someone the other stuff in our lives shrinks. This weekend I found out about a friend who has a difficult battle with cancer ahead of her. Although I haven’t personally brought her family a beef brisket or sat in a waiting room, my caring has consumed my thoughts and prayers. Caring can hurt. It digs into our guts and takes up residence for awhile, like a stomach flu that lasts a few months, or years. While caring for Merritt these past six year I feel that the essence of my being has been defined because wrapped in all those diaper changes, therapy sessions and meals of tofu and seaweed has been love and worry.

Ahh-ha, and there lies my definition of caring, my essence of life: to love and have concern for another person. Honestly, some days I feel like sitting in the library, enjoying my writing and solitude, coming home and ignoring the phone, then topping off my day with an hour of quiet reading, alone. But if I don’t stop and listen to a friend or ask my neighbor why she’s down, or call my husband, who is stressed, just to say hello, then I’m missing the essence of life. The big kahuna, the golden ticket, the winner’s circle.

Every time I step beyond my own needs and care deeply about someone I’m rewarded with God’s big gold medal. I get the essence of life. That’s why when people see me with Merritt and her head flops to the side, and their eyes turn downward and sadness fill their eyes, I need to pause and say, “It’s okay, I’m chasing the prize.”