Author: susan.lebold

Kindness in a Crisis

My husband Jay Stoerker died on February 11, 2018. There, I said it even though it doesn’t seem real. Like others who have experienced this type of loss, it still feels like he is simply out of the house for awhile and will return. But I know in my heart that he won’t, and the memories we shared together over 37 years are mine alone now.

I still sleep on “my” side of the bed, and his clothes remain in “our” closet. As I go through old photos in preparation for his appreciation event coming up in a few weeks, I note with affection that some of the shirts that were new in those photos from so long ago are still in his drawers, quite threadbare at this point but in keeping with his tendency to wear every item of clothing until it was unrecognizable. He also loved hand-me-downs from older generations, so much of what he wore was hopelessly outdated. He hated shopping for himself, or getting a haircut, and often looked a bit bedraggled as a result, even though he held an executive position at his company. He never really cared what others thought about his appearance. It’s one of many traits of his that annoyed me to no end, but I would happily put up with if I could only have him back. (I mean really, is outward appearance the most important thing about a person? Jay certainly didn’t think so.) 

While I try to live my life without regrets, I do feel bad that I didn’t always appreciate the endearing quality of Jay’s irritating habits and his unusual, quirky sense of humor until it was too late and they were gone forever. Like the way he would let the toothpaste drip all over the bathroom sink and just leave it there, and I was always finding used dental floss threads all over the house. Disgusting, right? But how I long to be able to shake my finger at him once again as I ask him for the thousandth time not to mix darks and whites in the washer!

Being the brilliant, absent-minded nerdy scientist that he was, Jay never listened. I’m glad that he didn’t, and that he marched to his own drummer. That was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. He was so much more than those annoying habits. Besides, I have plenty of my own irritating habits that he put up with, and we certainly had many angry “moments” over the years. But here is one thing I know for sure about a successful long term relationship:

When you are in love you get annoyed but hang in there anyway. When that annoyance turns to anger, you deal with it and hang in there anyway. And when crisis hits, the anger or annoyance lurking under the surface suddenly melts away and nothing matters but the love. 

The Crisis

This post isn’t about the kindness (or lack of it) between Jay and me (although I’m sure there is plenty to write about on that topic…). It’s about the kindnesses that magically appeared from outside our cocoon when the unthinkable happened and he got sick. Before June 2017, Jay was the picture of health (or so we thought). Sixty-four years old, no illnesses to speak of, no medicines, exercised everyday. He was looking forward to retirement in a few short weeks. His diet was carefully constructed around what the research tells us will ward off pestilence and disease (those who knew him remember how he kept the broccoli and blueberry growers prosperous).

In the end none of that mattered. On June 10, 2017 Jay had a seizure that the doctors first thought was a stroke. The MRI blasted through that assumption, however, and confirmed that it was in fact a brain tumor. The bad kind. The kind for which there is no effective treatment. The kind that can kill you in a matter of weeks or months.

The doctors were hopeful at first that Jay might be one of the lucky ones to survive at least 3-5 years, maybe more. Then over the next several weeks as they learned more about it they revised the prediction to 1-3 years. As the weeks sped by it became more and more obvious that that prediction was also too optimistic. Even with the standard radiation and chemo, as well as a clinical trial for an experimental drug, Jay succumbed after only eight months.  It was the most stressful, intense, horribly depressing, excruciating eight months for both of us that you can imagine.

Enter the Kindness Continuum

When Jay became sick I began a blog on the site CaringBridge.org, primarily to consolidate the information about what was going on and keep close friends and family informed about how Jay was getting along. As word of Jay’s sudden and tragic illness got around to colleagues, family, friends, friends of family, family of colleagues, friends of friends, family of friends, etc. etc. something amazing and totally unexpected happened. First, the number of people following the CaringBridge site expanded and spread way beyond the original target audience. Second, friends and family started coming out of the woodwork to be there for us, in all sorts of amazing ways. Some examples:

  • Lots and lots and lots of cards, texts, emails and phone calls. (phone calls were particularly hard and often avoided because we were just too emotional most of the time to talk, even to close family members – people understood, thankfully).
  • Jay was included in daily thoughts and prayers at numerous faith communities and by individual families, often by people who didn’t even know him or barely knew me. (Neither of us is particularly religious, but  I’m the first to admit the possibility of powerful forces at work in the universe, and our spiritual selves soaked up all those prayers and good wishes that were offered.)
  • People began to drop off meals periodically.
  • Things showed up in the mail – flowers, food, a cozy blanket, a cozy wrap, even cash.
  • Nearby friends, some of whom we didn’t even know that well, offered any kind of assistance we might need at any time we might need it, no restrictions. (an important byproduct of this outpouring of kindness is the proliferation of people I have become close to in so many different ways.)
  • Friends opened their homes to family members when they came to visit.
  • Other friends stayed with Jay at the house or went out and did shopping for me when we reached the point he couldn’t be left alone anymore.
  • A total stranger took me out to lunch and let me cry all the way through the meal. (needless to say she is no longer a total stranger)
  • People I had not been in contact with for over 20 years reached out to me when they heard the news.

I could go on and on and on.

This incredibly loving, genuine, authentic caring and support went on for the entire 8 months Jay was sick and has continued way beyond that now that he is gone. The outpouring of compassion and kindness touched my heart and was emotionally overwhelming not only because it was so appreciated but also because it was so unexpected. Neither Jay nor I had ever been through anything like this in our lives, and I still don’t understand where all this kindness directed specifically at us came from.  (Hence this blog where I can explore that question at my leisure)  I will never be able to adequately express to all those folks who reached out to us and continue to reach out to me what it meant to have them in our corner during our eight month crisis, and now as I pick up the pieces of my life and try to move forward.

Did all that kindness change the ultimate outcome for Jay? Not one bit. Did it make a huge difference in our ability to cope with what we were going through? Absolutely. And therein lies the lesson for us all:

Regardless of where you see yourself on the Kindness Continuum, know that any act of kindness you show to another who is in crisis will matter. When that act is driven by authentic compassion and rooted in empathy it will be deeply appreciated at whatever level it is offered. 

It was this eight month first hand experience with kindness during Jay’s illness that is the driving force behind this blog. I needed to get this story out there so that readers understand the inspiration my experience fostered. I hope that all of you who provided all that love and support will recognize yourselves and know how much you are appreciated and how thankful I am.

What stories of kindness in a crisis have you experienced? Did it make a difference? In what way? What lessons did you learn?

Where does the Kindness Continuum fit into your life at this moment in time? Contact me if you would like to be a guest blogger and develop an idea or thought you may have.

Let’s Get Started! What exactly is the Kindness Continuum?

Why Kindness Continuum?

What do I mean by the Kindness Continuum and why did I choose that for my blog? Let’s break it down by looking at a simple example of something that happened to me recently.

A person cut me off at a fast food drive-thru window and inserted her car in front of mine. I was on my way somewhere and in a hurry, and became extremely upset at this rudeness. I wanted to give the other driver a piece of my mind, but she completely ignored me and wouldn’t look my way. Still fuming, I finally got to the window to pay for my order, only to discover that the person in front of me  (yes, the very same person that cut me off so rudely) paid for my lunch and then drove off without having ordered anything for herself.

drive-thruWhat is Kindness?

We all know what kindness means, right? It’s one of those things that  “we know it when we see it” (kind of like the way Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart defined pornography in 1964). To me, the word implies an act or failure to act on one person’s part that is intentional and directed toward someone or something else. In the example above, the woman who paid for my meal was intentional about what she did, and it was directed at me, a total stranger.

When we are the recipients of someone else’s kindness, we naturally experience positive emotions. These positive emotions may start a chain reaction and cause us to be kind to someone else. All of this can happen in the blink of an eye and we aren’t always even conscious of the kindnesses we do for others or that they are doing for us. In my case, I definitely felt positive emotions, but also mixed with shame for having made assumptions about the woman that clearly were not warranted. How quick we judge!!

What is a Continuum?

Continuum refers to a scale, commonly drawn as a straight line with the polar opposites at the two ends. I see the Kindness Continuum that way, and imagine Hitler at the left end and Mother Theresa at the right. I think I can safely say that most of the rest of us fall somewhere between those two extremes, right? How we choose to measure ourselves and where we place ourselves on that continuum is intensely personal. I would not presume to make that call for anyone other than myself. When I realized what the woman had done for me, I felt rather foolish at being so upset, and understood immediately that my anger toward her was rather disproportionate to the “crime” I believe she had committed. In that moment I moved a bit toward the left end of the continuum, and there was no doubt that she was to the right of me and closer to Mother Theresa.

The woman definitely got me thinking about my attitude in the moment of getting cut off. I reflected on the fact that I knew nothing about her but had been immediately willing to assign all kinds of nasty and selfish traits to her when I could have granted her a bit more grace while I waited. After all, we’re only talking a difference of a few short minutes in the great scheme of the world. So what if I got my sandwich five minutes later than I would have otherwise? I definitely learned something important that I hope will make a positive difference in the lives of others I encounter throughout each day.

I do believe that true kindness requires authenticity, genuine compassion, and empathy for others.  In this example the woman was not looking for any immediate reward or even acknowledgement for what she did for me. From all appearances it was a completely selfless act. I suppose an argument could be made that a person can perceive an act as being kind even though it may have been delivered with none of those attributes I just described, and I have no idea what this woman’s motives might have been. That said, from my perspective this woman did me a kindness in the truest sense of the word.

So who gets to decide whether a kindness has taken place or not? Does it matter? How do we know what is a kind act and what is not? Is kindness defined through the eyes and experiences only of those on the receiving end? Or does the person doing the act get to decide the degree of kindness that an act represents, whether or not the intended recipient agrees? What are the consequences of the misunderstanding when the doer of the act and the person on the receiving end see the act very differently? The answers are not always clear, but we will try to explore some of these interesting questions in future blogs.

Be well, and let me know your thoughts about some of the ideas expressed here. And when you have a chance, take some time to reflect on where you might place yourself on the Kindness Continuum.