Look for the Helpers

Look for the Helpers

Today, I will look for the helpers—

the woman pouring sunflower seeds

from an orange bag into the feeder,

and a chickadee, having eaten its fill,

lifting off so another can feast there.

Someone holding open the fogged-over

door of the coffee shop for a stranger

who smiles and says thank you in spite

of the news. I will watch workers dressed

in neon vests with shovels and buckets,

filling potholes across the city, the asphalt

steaming as they spread it over the street,

then tamp it down, repairing what they can.

I know that so many of you are feeling distressed, frightened, and confused by the outcome of the election in the U.S. Yet no matter the state of your heart and mind, there can be no doubt that this is a time of jarring transition for our country and world. For those struggling to make through such a liminal period, I offer this practice that is already helping me to endure. You may be aware of what Fred Rogers once wrote, sharing the advice his own mother gave him for weathering difficult moments: “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” We may not be ready to become helpers ourselves, and might need to stay in grief for a while. But we can at least look out, begin to recognize the kindness that’s still around us. Mr. Rogers’ wise words do not mean, however, that we simply sit back and search for glimmers of goodness without also seeking justice and change; we can do so while taking action, while honoring the spectrum of other emotions passing through us. 

I wrote this piece the morning after the election, having just seen the news about the results. I am often surprised to find that the poem I most need to read shows up for me on the page, if I simply follow the images and allow myself to be surprised. In the case of this one, I needed a gentle nudge to venture out into the world and look for the helpers, when all I wanted to do was stay cocooned in bed that day. As is always the case, when we go looking for those people and creatures still operating from a place of connection, we begin to find them everywhere. My friend Allen, a cancer survivor, has said that at first he often asked himself: “Why do bad things happen to good people?” But now, more often he believes this to be true: “Bad things reveal good people.” As you move through this day, and the many to come, you might find his words to be true, too. You might see, when all else has fallen away, even for a minute or two, how little it takes to perform small acts of love for our world and each other, even in the face of uncertainty and fear.

Invitation for Writing & Reflection: When you go out into your world looking for the helpers, what forms of goodness do you encounter? What small kindnesses rise to the surface, even as you make room for and honor your own grief?