Running on empty...

A few years ago, I attended the funeral of a friend’s wife. She died unexpectedly, and at a relatively young age. My friend, needless to say, was devastated. The funeral was huge, almost as huge as the pervasive cloud of sadness which settled over the community during the ensuing weeks and months.

A few weeks after the funeral, I saw him in the check-out lane of a local grocery store. He’d lost a lot of weight, and looked absolutely exhausted. He’d aged visibly, and his once resonant voice was listless and shallow. I remember noticing that he had six boxes of breakfast cereal and three gallons of milk in his cart—nothing else. As we talked for a few minutes, he mentioned that he felt life had nothing more to offer him…that he felt life was no longer worth living.

I’m sure that’s not a novel idea, nor an uncommon reaction to loss, grief or disappointment.

Life has nothing left for me.

I’ll admit it; I’ve felt that way before. It’s a hollow feeling, completely devoid of any sense of purpose or direction. It’s a compass without a needle, or a candle without a wick. No appetite, ambition or objective. It’s as if the mere act of living has, in fact, sucked all the life out of your life.

During that long-ago conversation, I didn’t have any words or thoughts with which to ease his pain or sense of hopelessness. I wanted to help, but it just didn’t happen.

I’ve revisited that conversation often over the past years, always looking, always wondering what the right words would have been.

I think I may have stumbled upon something over the past few months.

We are the users—the ultimate consumers

We are indeed, living large—until something comes along to drive us to our knees.

It would seem that something is an event or occurrence which cannot be smoothed, soothed or appeased by the lush life it’s interrupted. All the instant everythings which inhabit and often dominate our lives stand idly by, as we reach out for something which isn’t there.

It is during this moment of crisis that we might feel and truly experience the essence of our being—a transitory glimpse into the true nature of man. Face it, we like the good stuff, and we like good things to happen—especially when they happen to us. In our society, they’ve happened so frequently and so seamlessly, that we’ve become more than a little used to them. We seldom notice their presence or the part they play in our lives.

So there we are, facing something so challenging and emotionally arduous, that, in an instant, it strips away our veneer of comfort and security, making us as venerable as a new-born.

At one time or another, we’ll all face it. Some will face it more often than others, but it’s waiting out there for each of us.

When we feel life has nothing left to offer us, perhaps we should consider the possibility that we may have something to offer life.

If we look deeply enough, we might begin to see that most of us, even in our moment of crisis, are an important, often critical component of someone else’s life. We play a role in the lives of others.

Conceivably, helping others is the key to our own recovery—the first step on our journey back to security.

Everyone needs help, and it may be the help we are able to provide: as a friend, a parent, a son or daughter, a brother or sister… as a mentor, a Samaritan, or by simply reaching out to those in need.

The assistance and generosity of today, alters and enriches tomorrow.

Can we truly know what value we are to the future? No. The simple truth is, we don’t get to know what the world needs from us—not until we’ve returned to it, everything we are and everything we will be..

If, in the end, the sum total of our lives consists solely of what the world bestows upon us…

we’re probably already dead.