The Prelude
My cousin Katie and I grew up as next door neighbors on the remains of a several hundred acre plot of land that our great-grandparents owned. I was older by a little more than a year. This was such a bonus as a kid. I got to do everything first–school, dating, driving, college, etc. I still get to do everything first–turning gray, knee pain, cellulite, and wrinkles.
Apart from Katie and her siblings, there were no other children in the neighborhood. Katie quickly became my favorite human being on the planet. When she started kindergarten, her bus dropped her off an hour later than I arrived home. I distinctly remember standing on the bottom board of the wooden fence that separated our yards just waiting for Katie to walk down the drive. Poor girl didn’t get a chance to have an afternoon snack. We spent our afternoons, summers, and snow days together. We were pirates, Barbie ventriloquists, chefs, outdoor adventurers, athletes, and bee catchers. For a solid nine years of my childhood, she was my everything.
As an adult, I have a new perspective on this amazing soul who is so much a part of who I am, and I am grateful for the lessons she has taught me.
I realize that we are both beautifully imperfect people in our own right, with our own unique set of strengths and weaknesses. However, in this post, the focus will be on her strengths, and what every human on the planet can learn from them. Here is a bit of the wisdom I’ve learned from my perfectly imperfect cousin: 3 easy steps, inspired by Katie, to becoming a good human being.
Step One: Realize you don’t have it all together, and be okay with it
Though we were inseparable as children, around the time the difficult teen years hit, we drifted apart. Life became more complicated. Katie and I both had pain, but we felt it differently–we were, at times, in different worlds.. Katie was open about her stuff, willingly sharing her struggles, wearing her heart on her sleeve. It was an openly acknowledged part of life and a part of who she was.
Instead of coming to terms with the struggles in my own life, I buried the pain within me. I became physically ill and withdrawn during the hardest portion, my early teen years. As I entered high school and life improved a bit, I put on an air that I had everything together and believed the lie. By ignoring my own pain, I both hurt myself and was unable to be there for others.
Some of us have an easier time than others in being forced to deal with our s*%$. Katie did have a bit of help from her amazing memory. Not all of us are so blessed. In high school, it once took me 30 minutes to remember my home phone number (luckily, the guidance counselor was patient). Having a good memory can be both a blessing and a curse–she remembers both the good and the hurt, carrying her memories with her. Regardless of the quality of our memories, however, embracing reality is a choice, one that Katie gladly made.
Because she has accepted herself and loved herself in spite of it all, Katie can give the same gift to others. She understands the hurt of others and knows exactly what to do to help. She won’t forget those terrible things you’ve done, but she will love you in spite of them. Katie is also a wonderful listener–one of the rare people who can drop everything and give you their full attention. She knows stories matter and she listens. The pain of her past has become her strength.
Step 2: Appreciate the beauty in your past and celebrate it
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
Philippians 4:8
In addition to feeling her pain fully, Katie also cherishes the beauty in her life, especially the beauty from her past. Her home is filled with our grandparent’s furniture and treasured knick-knacks, as well as some masterpieces from her kids. In addition to celebrating her grandparents within her home, she also carries them within her, actively nurturing the best of each of them within herself. Our grandmother has a special place in Katie’s heart and she has a garden dedicated to her in her backyard.
I also have a garden dedicated to our grandmother. I am not so gifted at gardening. Everything I’ve ever planted there, with the exception of one plant (one of Katie’s), has died. My oldest says that Grandma wanted me to plant a garden so she would have more plants to keep her company in heaven. Ha.
Last year, Katie, knowing I kill everything I touch, generously gave me upwards of ten plants from her own yard which were tough to kill. She puts a bit of herself into the plants, and, as she handed them each to me, she called them by their names. The rhododendron (still alive!), she affectionately called “Rhodie”. Gentle appreciation for life and all the beauty it has to offer just kind of flows from her. Even the plants appreciate it.
Step 3: Don’t give up on the rest of us
Photo credit: John Waire
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
1 Corinthians 13:7
As previously discussed, unlike Katie, I struggled with step 1. I was a great friend for discussing philosophy and faith, or for throwing snowballs or having a good laugh, but I wasn’t much for empathy. More than a decade ago, the first words out of my mouth when greeting my grandmother after Pop Bill passed away were, “Where should I put this casserole?”.
My husband had to point out that perhaps that wasn’t the best call.
Katie didn’t give up on me, though. She would make sure we saw each other at least once a year, even though at times the conversations were awkward, even when she was juggling two jobs and raising two young kids. She would, however, do this thing with her eyebrows when I refused to acknowledge that I was struggling. I think it was her silent way of saying, “When are you going to deal with life like a real person?”
I’m in therapy for that–it’s called marriage. I think I’m slowly getting better. Today, when Katie and I spent the afternoon together, our four kids making complete fools out of themselves in her mom’s backyard pool, she only had to do that eyebrow thing once. Progress.
Motherhood (and my maturity) have brought us back together. We bond over raising very active, good-hearted kiddos, who also enjoy each other’s company. There’s something special about seeing your own children play together in the same way you did as kids.
Katie’s oldest: “Mom, you have to try mixing fruit and cookie dough ice cream, it’s amazing!”.
Me: “Oh, your Mom and I have done plenty of that in our time–remember the orange juice and milk concoction? Classic.”
All 4 kids: “Was it good?”
Katie and myself: Silence
Post-script
Katie just took a job in nursing that requires a unique human being to perform it well: someone with patience, empathy, and who appreciates the importance of the past and how to find the beauty in it. Someone just like her. She loves it and is doing so much good for the individuals she serves.
She has a daughter about to enter middle school. While Katie made her kids’ lunch today, her daughter began sharing with me the woes of preteen life, filled with its own unique drama. She seemed to be looking for some advice, so I did my best to help, which she seemed to legit appreciate. She reminds me so much of Katie: acutely aware of her flaws, compassionate, and kind.
I wonder where she gets it from.