Author: ktnorlander

As I sat in the stands at my daughter’s commencement ceremony, I saw her looking for us. I waved, but she kept looking. (“It’s hard to see your mom wave when everyone’s mom is waving,” she told me later.) She did finally spot us, but before she did, I thought she seemed a little worried. It turned out that I was right. Our family came in two separate cars, and for a while, she wondered if everyone had managed to make it on time.

I remember how much it mattered to me at that age when people showed up. I scanned the audience at school concerts. Were the people who mattered to me there? Even when I was a prickly and semi-independent teen, I wanted my family to be there for me.

When I was in first grade, we had a class concert for our parents. At the end, there was a big “surprise” as we unveiled a drawing that tied in with the theme to the concert. It really wasn’t a big deal in the scheme of things, but it was a big deal to me. My dad was working, but I was counting on my mom to come. Unfortunately, I gave her the wrong time, so she missed the concert. It wasn’t her fault, and I knew that. Still, I was heartbroken. I could sing the songs for her myself, I could point out the piece of art on the classroom wall, but it wasn’t the same. Decades later, I still remember standing with the other kids as we performed and wondering where my mom was.

Truthfully, it still matters for me when people I love are there for me.

Most of us will miss the occasional concert or game or special event. But when we make the time to be there for a loved one, it really matters. When they scan the crowd, let’s be there for them to find.

When my daughter was a toddler, we were flying home from a visit with some relatives and had a layover in Dallas-Fort Worth. We had plenty of time to get to our gate, until everything went wrong. Our stroller, which had been gate-checked, was sent to the baggage claim. Things kept going downhill from there. During our stroller-induced trials and tribulations, our flight was moved to another terminal. A gate agent unhelpfully told me, “You’re going to miss your flight.”

As I rushed to the other terminal, I began to cry. Most people passed by without noticing or, if they did notice, they just kept walking. I don’t blame them. I’m sure many of them were in a hurry to get where they needed to go, and others probably felt that what was going on in my life was none of their business. But one woman asked me what was wrong and walked briskly alongside me as I told her. She couldn’t fix my situation, but the fact that she cared was comfort enough… and in the end, the flight was delayed, so we made it.

All around us there are people who just want to know that someone cares about what they’re going through. Most of us are probably pretty good at offering support to our closest friends and family members, but we may not bother to reach out to other people — strangers, coworkers, neighbors, people we just see from time to time. We have busy lives and may assume that surely someone is reaching out to them, someone who is closer to them than us. Sometimes we’re afraid to reach out. We feel that another person’s situation is none of our business, or we’re afraid that by bringing up a painful situation, we’ll just hurt the suffering person more.

Let’s assume instead that by reaching out, we can really make a difference in that person’s life.

What’s the worst that can happen? Maybe a person will tell us that what they are going through is none of our business. Maybe they’ll start to cry (and maybe those tears will be good for them). Maybe several people have already asked after them, and they’re ready to move on. Maybe they’ll be so grateful that someone cares that they’ll talk our ears off, forcing us either to be gently assertive in order to end the conversation or to deal with more than we’d bargained for. Some of these things are unpleasant, but none are horrible.

But… what if no one has bothered to reach out to them? What if they are yearning to know that someone cares?

One of the kindest things we can do for another person is to get over our hangups and reach out to them. More often than not, we’ll find that it’s not too much trouble and that the person we are coming alongside appreciates our efforts. We may not be able to do this for everyone around us, but if we start to make a habit of looking out for ways we can reach out to others, we’ll touch a lot of lives.

Repeat after me: “It’s not about me.”

Most of us know that, but in the stresses of everyday life, it can be easy for us to act as if we really think otherwise. When I’m feeling rushed and like my to-do list is about to overwhelm me, the people around me never move fast enough. I get fed up and can be anything but patient and kind.

The best solution to this is to simplify our lives; when we are calmer, it’s much easier to be the loving people we aspire to be. But as a working mom who juggles side projects, I understand that achieving that simplicity can be a challenge. So we need to make “It’s not about me” our mantra, and we need to make looking out for others a habit.

In a hurry? (When am I not?) Take a deep breath and resist snapping at someone who is slowing you down. Let someone ahead of you in line. Take time to listen, even when you have no time. (Yes, these are all easier said than done. I’m not good at them, but I believe that these practices can make me a better person and that they will not, in the end, significantly affect how much I get done or how quickly I get to the next place I’m going.)

Annoyed by that driver who cut you off or who is tailgating or [fill in your pet peeve here]? Do not — I repeat — do not give them a one-finger salute or let their driving affect your own. Let it go. They’re probably just as stressed as you are. Maybe, just maybe, your considerate driving will catch on… if not with them, then with other drivers around you.

Sort of want to go to that party but not sure if you’ll feel like it on the actual day of the event? As an introvert, I understand… but as someone who has hosted gatherings, I know how frustrating it can be when you can’t get a remotely accurate guest count. Be the person who makes a commitment and — barring an emergency — sticks to it.

Practice the little things: holding a door open, putting the divider down after you put your groceries on the conveyor belt, smiling instead of scowling. Say a little prayer of blessing for the people around you, or a prayer of thanks for the good things in your life.

None of this means that your life doesn’t matter. On the contrary, it means that how you act can make a real difference in the lives of those around you, that you have the power to alter the course of someone’s day.

Life is not about me… it’s about love.

Let’s practice that together.

I have an employer that does many wonderful things. One of the projects my employer has tackled has been a series of pollinator gardens. I’ve been working to support and promote this project, so pollinators have been very much on my mind lately.

You probably know that pollinators are suffering worrisome declines. This isn’t just true for honeybees, but also bumblebees and other native bees, butterflies, and other insects, as well as pollinating birds and mammals.

If you have a yard, you can help fight pollinator declines through your landscaping choices.

You probably know that you can help pollinators through what you choose to plant. Some pollinators have very specific needs, such as monarch butterflies, which require native milkweed to successfully reproduce. While you may choose to research plants that appeal to a particular pollinator, the best thing you can do for pollinators in general is to choose plants that are native to your area. If you do nothing else, consider pollinators when you choose plants for your yard.

Pollinators don’t just need food; they need water. This is easy to provide through features like birdbaths or small ponds.

You also can help pollinators through providing natural and artificial shelters. Don’t keep a pristine yard; leave stumps, brush piles, and bare earth for pollinator nesting sites. You can also create nesting sites that are attractive to native bees.

In addition to providing pollinators with food, water, and shelter, you can support them by avoiding neonicotinoid pesticides. Not only should you check the labels of any pesticides you buy, you should also ask nurseries from which you buy plants if the plants are treated with neonicotinoids — a surprising number are, even if the plants are designated as pollinator-friendly.

Of course, you can choose to do more, such as supporting further research into pollinator declines or working to reduce or even ban the use of neonicotinoids. But if you’re a homeowner who wants to make a difference for pollinators, the best place to start is in your own backyard.

Last year I wrote about the importance of not being judgmental. Nothing I say here is intended to contradict that.

But as I mentioned in that blog post, there’s a difference between being judgmental and distinguishing between right and wrong. And sometimes, whether our intention is to gently correct someone or to courageously draw attention to injustice, we need to speak up in favor of what’s right and against what’s wrong.

We don’t like hearing that we’re wrong; in fact, we tend to screen out information that contradicts what we believe. But even if we feel convicted, it can be hard for us to admit it. Confessing wrong-doing requires both humility and vulnerability. For that reason, I believe that the most powerful way to speak up is to do so lovingly within a trusting relationship. In healthy families, parents will correct their children without making the children feel that they are in danger of losing their parents’ love.

To my shame, I can show this in action through a personal story. I attended a college that did not have cheerleaders. We did have a student-led pep band, and I was an active member of the band during basketball season. When I was dating my husband, I told him a story about how we once played “The Stripper” when the opposing team’s cheerleaders came out onto the basketball court. When I told him about how the cheerleaders ran off the court once we started playing, he asked me, “Did you look in their eyes?”

I felt horrible. Suddenly an incident that I’d found amusing made me realize that, at my worst, I could be a pretty unfeeling person. But while I would hope I could have heard that message no matter who had delivered it or how they had done so, it helped that it came from someone who loved me and who was not threatening to withdraw his love because of my participation in something so hurtful. When we can gently correct others as my husband corrected me, we probably will find that people are more receptive to our message.

That doesn’t mean we never speak up under other circumstances. It does mean we try to use good judgment about when and how to speak up. There are no hard and fast rules; it comes down to weighing the severity of the offense. If I point out relatively minor offenses to others, I’m probably slipping into judgmentalism rather than standing up for what’s right.

But there are things you don’t let go. Anyone who had been present at that basketball game would have been right to tell us to knock it off. Whether we’re calling someone on the racist joke they just told or speaking out at a town hall meeting about an issue that concerns us, we need to be courageous enough to stand up for what’s right.

In a polarized world, it can be easy either to remain silent, telling ourselves that we won’t convince anyone anyway, or to jump into the fray with gusto, verbally tearing other people down. We’re fallible, and we’re going to mess up as we decide when and how to speak out. But if we are silent, we are giving our implicit approval to wrongdoing, and possibly even collaborating with wrongdoers. If we want to make a difference, we must be people who stand up for what is right and speak out against what is wrong.