Grandma Connelly. At the very mention of her name, tears well in my eyes. The unconditional love she supplied didn’t come from coddling, but rather from how she showed up. Retired and living on a fixed income, she had very little (materialistically) to give. Yet truly, she gave me SO much.
While grandma Connelly was unable to remove me and my siblings from a home with drugs and alcohol, she took care of us however she could. From the time that I left the foster care system until I left home at seventeen: she was my safe haven. She would come over in the morning and sweep up the sea of beer bottles that covered the floor from the night before, ensure we had laundered clothes, and even taught me math by playing backgammon and cribbage after school. My taste buds still dance at the memory of the waffles she’d make for us with bits of bacon cooked inside. What might be more impactful than the acts of service she so lovingly gave, was her positive mindset. Never did I see my grandma complain, nor was she ever in a bad mood. Even though my grandma dealt with poverty and negativity every day (many of her children and grandchildren were addicted to substances), she was a model of strength and perseverance. When I called on her–day or night–she was there to listen and lift my spirits. The purest form of love I have felt in my life was the unconditional love given to me by my grandma Connelly. Abuse and trauma were prevalent in my childhood, and my grandma could not change that. Though, the support that she could provide, positively influenced me then and continues to shape the person I am to this day. As a social worker, my caseload is filled with struggling families. I am in a similar position as my grandma Connelly: I cannot take a magic wand and make it all better for those families. Instead, I am realistic–and optimistic. I support them to the best of my ability, communicate from a loving place, and show up. Of course, there are days that the weight of my role feels heavy and defeating; but all I need to do is remember my grandma. Power (and impact) come from focusing on what I can control (and letting go of what I can’t). This is what I strive to do–not only professionally–but with my family, friends, and those I meet during my races. Because of my grandma Connelly, I know the power of showing up. Money and material items don’t bring joy. In fact, it’s the smallest things that do (the bacon in those waffles). I’d rather help someone struggling to finish a marathon cross that line by coaching them in than finishing with a record time. Supporting someone on their journey brings more joy to my life than an arbitrary personal best. In the spirit of my grandma Connelly and to use the words of author Elizabeth Lesser “look for a way to lift someone up. If that's all you do, that’s enough." My grandma couldn’t make it all better, but she showed up and did her best to make a difference. I do not know if I would have survived and made it this far without her. I live each day to make her proud. What she offered was enough, in fact, it was more than enough. Remember, there is no act too small. We often don’t realize the gravity of our impact on others. You don’t need wealth, an abundance of time, or resources: just show up. I continue to find ways to show up and help others along their journey. Because I need trauma informed practical hours to work towards my coaching certification, I am currently seeking clients at a discounted rate, if you are interested email me at [email protected] UNTIL NEXT MONDAY...
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