Your actions, even little ones, can mean a hell of a lot more than you think they do.
Today, I had the privilege of volunteering with elderly members of the Dublin community. The day focused on helping them more effectively use technology. My buddy was Helen.
“I need help with my computer,” Helen said, taking a seat next to me at the table.
“Sure thing,” I replied. “Hopefully I know enough about computers by now to help out.” We both smiled and her lesson began.
We started simply: how do I turn it on? How can I plug my phone in? How can I drag something and put it into a folder?
I helped her pay a car bill online, find out where her email was, and make sure she got a receipt for her payment.
“My car is very old,” she said, laughing. “I pay the bill every three months instead of every year because I don’t know how much longer it’ll keep running.”
We pushed the computer aside.
“There’s something else I want to do. I want to be able to talk to my friends. I want to send them pictures and messages.”
We picked up her phone – an older generation iPhone – and queued up the home screen. There was a photo of herself, an middle-aged woman, and a young girl.
“That’s a great photo,” I said. “Is it your family?”
“Yes it is. That’s my daughter and my granddaughter.”
I noticed a discernible shift in Helen’s mood after she said this. Her eyes sunk to her lap and she put her hands together.
“My daughter…”
She hesitated before speaking again.
“She passed away five months ago. She had cancer. This is the first time I’ve been out of my house in a long while.”
We were both silent.
“I’m just having a rough go of things lately, Ian.”
I gently put my hand on her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Helen.”
We were both silent again.
Finally, she looked up at me. She told me she wants to be able to talk to her friends – her support system – while she navigates these hard times.
That’s when the purpose of our session clicked for me.
The point of me being there wasn’t to help an older woman figure out how all of this technology works. It wasn’t to give a lesson on how to write an email, or send a text message.
No.
The point of me being there was that I was helping Helen connect with those she loves and cares about after one of the most tumultuous events of her life. To get the support she needs to stay strong.
It wasn’t about iPhones, Outlook, or Google Search.
It was about connection, love, and being there for one another.
That was the “why” behind it all.
We carried on with our lesson. I walked her through all of the steps required to send picture messages, get current events by searching for news on Google, and video call her friends, one of whom was in the lesson with us (“Enjoy your lesson and get back to it,” Helen said, signing off).
As the hour drew to a close, Helen asked if I could write down what we covered.
“You know how it is with the memory,” she said. “I’ll forget it all by the time I’m home.”
I grabbed a piece of paper, a pen, and some markers and recapped the most important parts of the lesson for her. The ones that will enable her “why,” and let her connect with her friends and get the support she needs.
I folded it up and handed it to Helen. She gave me a big hug and a soft kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you, Ian. You’re an angel.”
I walked her out and she was on her way home with her friend Maureen, armed with new skills and, to the best I could give it, some love and support as she copes with the loss of her daughter.
Today was another example of how powerful our words and actions can be and the affects they have on others around us. It also reminded me that while we might take the skills and talents we all possess for granted, they can be true gifts for others.
What are your skills?
What are you passionate about?
How do you manifest them?
Seek each day to express them. To live them. To share them. You never know how much it will mean to someone else in the world.
Love you. Have a great day.
Ian
This post was originally published on November 16th, 2018
Ian Estabrook 