Glass Houses

That day, I encountered elderly folks, hobbling along at a slow and necessary pace. I encountered two women with walkers, and another with a cane. I encountered several young moms, trying to hip-balance babies while navigating full carts through crowded surroundings. I stopped focusing on the items I was placing into the cart, and instead opened my eyes to the scene unfolding around me. My pace slowed even further. These days, I will find myself, after just 15 minutes of shopping, relying on the cart to help me meander through the store. My legs and back tire, especially with all the loading and unloading of heavy laundry soap, dog food, and a multitude of other items. However, my pace slowed further because I was thinking about and evaluating those around me. I was processing thoughts of myself in this new world; one that I hadn't truly seen before.

I must have come to almost a complete stop because two teen-aged girls became very irritated with me. "Excuse me!" one said in a very huffy tone. They squeezed around me, let out a sigh and a roll of their eyes. I'm guessing they were complaining internally about the lady (me) holding up their shopping progress. I couldn't reach out to scold them, or even to judge them for what many would have considered to be utter rudeness. Just a short while ago, I was a lot like them - and twice their age. Quick to irritate, quick to judge, quick to become frustrated with those who moved slower than me, those who drove slower than me, those who were different than me.

What's wild though is that all that time, I thought I was a very accepting individual. I would have considered myself to be aware of other's needs and weaknesses. I thought I was accommodating. Instead, I now see that I was paying lip-service to being understanding.

One of the gifts of having M.S. is this new ability to look at things, to look at people differently. I pledged that day to learn true understanding of my fellow human beings. I pledged to be more patient with that woman who is irritating me by driving so slowly. Maybe she has diplopia and is scared out of her wits and just trying to get to the doctor's office. I can't imagine how the people on the highway with me the day I lost my normal vision felt. I pledged to become more accommodating, more tolerant, more forgiving of others who may be facing their own invisible life challenges. It's time for me to move out of my glass house, to put away my stones, and to develop into a better human being.