If you’re going through hell, keep on going. –Winston Churchill (and Rodney Atkins)
Growing up, The Clarks spent every August on vacation up in New Hampshire. Our farmhouse and property offered endless adventures and opportunities to explore the wilderness. And the “day trips” to the coast in Hampton Beach and York, Maine were a great change of pace to experience some fun in the sun.
On one such trip to the beach, we were joined by The Taylor Family. “Aunt Irene” Taylor was my mom’s first cousin, and her husband, “Uncle Bob” Taylor and their children were our closest extended family. After a glorious day in the water, we all stopped at a beachside seafood place to grab an early dinner before trekking back south to the farm. Someone had the idea to order fried clams for the group, but, as a skeptical ten-year old, I stuck with the chicken fingers (an unknowingly brilliant and prescient decision!)
After dinner, we poured back into the car with Uncle Bob at the wheel. Uncle Bob was even-keeled and amiable, with a mild manner and a quick smile. He was, quite simply, the nicest man. But even he would be put to the test. About 15 minutes into our 90-minute trip, my mom started getting violently ill. Then my Aunt Irene. Then my dad and a few of the kids, in what became a cascade of empathetic barfing. The bad clams were fighting back with reckless abandon. The humanity! But through it all, Uncle Bob was a rock. Waving off requests to stop. Staying calm and keeping the ship on course. Determined to get everyone home quickly and safely.
As we pulled into the driveway, the afflicted scampered into the house to take care of additional business. With the chicken fingers still on my breath, I took my time and let the dust settle. That is when I noticed Uncle Bob quietly throwing up in the bushes. He was in agony the whole trip but never uttered a word. He had a job to do.
The next morning at breakfast, everyone was feeling better and started telling war stories about the previous evening’s misadventure. Then someone realized that Uncle Bob had eaten the clams and hadn’t gotten sick. How was that possible?
Uncle Bob just shrugged and smiled.
“Just lucky, I guess”.
Wow.
No complaining. No need to add any drama or call any attention to himself. Just execute on the job at hand and move on. And that is how you get things done.
We Have People Counting On Us
There are countless moments when we have the right to complain. When things don’t go our way and it seems as if we are the only ones struggling. When life just doesn’t seem fair. But we have so many people counting on us. So many people who will lose hope if we fall into self-pity. Don’t we owe it to them to power through and keep going? Don’t we owe it to ourselves?
The CEO who stays calm and pivots during a period of business upheaval. The humble athlete who fights through an injury so his or her team can taste success. The selfless mother who powers through her own sickness to take care of her children. The beleaguered father who takes on a second job to keep the lights on for his family. The overworked employee who still finds time to cover a struggling co-worker’s shift. And so many other selfless displays of setting personal afflictions aside for the common good of a broader community. It may seem as though there are fewer and fewer of these noble examples today. But they are happening all around us. We just need to look for them. And then we need to emulate them and channel our inner Uncle Bob.
Resilience Happens in Quiet Moments
But isn’t suffering in silence the quickest path to needing therapy? Doesn’t the giant oak who stands up to the wind eventually snap in half? With the increasing focus on mental health, we don’t have to needlessly suffer. We can reach out to our loved ones and share our feelings. That is a very good thing and a positive trend. We are never alone.
But there are times when the team is counting on us. When our decisions and poise under pressure impact more than just us. There are times when we have to deny ourselves and swallow the pain for the collective benefit of our loved ones. There is still room in this world for selfless actions. There is still room for old-fashioned humility. Sometimes, just the simple act of moving quietly forward during a difficult stretch inspires others to do the same. And that builds resilience all around us!
Be a Rock
Uncle Bob could have complained. He could have pulled the car over to tend to his own suffering. He could have let everyone know how heroic he was the night before. How much the bad clam experience impacted his own health. But he didn’t. He steadied the ship. He got the job done. And he humbly faded into the background when the spotlight veered his way.
Thank you, Uncle Bob, for showing us the path to a resilient life.