Can't We All Just Get Along
Of course we can! After staying at the Ronald McDonald House (RMH) for a week, I've learned so much more about humans. First, there are thousands of wealthy people who do actually give millions of dollars a year to charities. Second, there are thousands of families in need of a place to reside while their children are being treated at some of the best medical facilities in the world. Third, when humbled, humans can coexist no matter what race, age, ethnicity, color, religion or creed.
My son played with little kids at the playground who didn't even speak English. I was embarrassed as he tried to mock the new languages he heard by talking to the kids in gibberish. We played basketball, baseball, soccer, Foosball, and catch with people from different backgrounds. We had fun. Even the language barriers didn't stop us from connecting with one another. Smiles are universal.
During our stay, we came in contact with Spanish speaking families, Arabic speaking families, families from different states, cities, cultures and communities. We all got along harmoniously. There were no fights, no racial slurs tossed around, no segregation, and no tension. We all had an unspoken but common bond; our children. There were tiny babies having surgeries, toddlers with tumors, and teens with chronic pain. We were all there trying to cope with the unforeseen health complications our children were facing.
Looking into the eyes of a mother whose 2 day old infant was taken away from her bosom, was like staring pain in the face. Her newborn baby had undergone several surgeries right after birth. The baby had a blood clot in her heart, and developed a life threatening infection.
Conversing with a father who was forced to quit his job once his daughter suddenly fell ill, was like shaking hands with sorrow. He was perplexed and felt worthless because he couldn't provide for his family adequately, after being out of work for 6 weeks. It was also taking a toll on his marriage.
The empty and emotionless look I've stared at in the mirror, I saw sculpted on the faces of hurting parents. The children are always vibrant and cheerful. They just want to play and eat the goodies donated by local businesses. For some reason, it's only the parents who are self loathing, floating around zombie like, lost in a world of sadness and confusion.
But being around other people who can truly empathize with you helps and heals. My son is bald in the back of his head with a huge scar going from the nape of his neck to the middle of his skull. No one laughed at him or gawked at him. There were kids in wheel chairs and casts, and wrapped in bandages. No one felt uncomfortable or out of place. We embraced one another. We shared our stories. We became a village of neighbors in support of one another.
The way the RMH is set up, we all rely on one another. There is a community kitchen that requires all families to clean up after cooking a meal. There's a laundry facility that requires prompt removal of laundry. There are common lounge areas and play areas that must be tidied up after being occupied. We all must do our part in order for the RMH to be comfortable. There are no maids or housekeepers. Before checking out of the room, I was responsible for cleaning it and making sure it looked exactly the way it was when I had arrived. The rules are simple, and the motto is, consider the next family staying here once you leave.
During hard times people naturally seem to be more compassionate and understanding to each other. I wonder what it would have been like it the RMH was only for millionaire families. I bet it would have been the complete opposite. I can only imagine how some families would separate themselves from others, or how money would be the topic of many discussions. But even then, you can't buy good health. Last time I checked, there was no cure for cancer.
Humility and service are vital to genuine human
interactions. Once we all understand that there is only one race, the human race, the world will be a loving, peaceful place. That's a fantasy that will never manifest into reality during my lifetime because of greed and self-hate. I got a small glimpse of heaven at the RMH, and it only cost me 7 bucks.
My son played with little kids at the playground who didn't even speak English. I was embarrassed as he tried to mock the new languages he heard by talking to the kids in gibberish. We played basketball, baseball, soccer, Foosball, and catch with people from different backgrounds. We had fun. Even the language barriers didn't stop us from connecting with one another. Smiles are universal.
During our stay, we came in contact with Spanish speaking families, Arabic speaking families, families from different states, cities, cultures and communities. We all got along harmoniously. There were no fights, no racial slurs tossed around, no segregation, and no tension. We all had an unspoken but common bond; our children. There were tiny babies having surgeries, toddlers with tumors, and teens with chronic pain. We were all there trying to cope with the unforeseen health complications our children were facing.
Looking into the eyes of a mother whose 2 day old infant was taken away from her bosom, was like staring pain in the face. Her newborn baby had undergone several surgeries right after birth. The baby had a blood clot in her heart, and developed a life threatening infection.
Conversing with a father who was forced to quit his job once his daughter suddenly fell ill, was like shaking hands with sorrow. He was perplexed and felt worthless because he couldn't provide for his family adequately, after being out of work for 6 weeks. It was also taking a toll on his marriage.
The empty and emotionless look I've stared at in the mirror, I saw sculpted on the faces of hurting parents. The children are always vibrant and cheerful. They just want to play and eat the goodies donated by local businesses. For some reason, it's only the parents who are self loathing, floating around zombie like, lost in a world of sadness and confusion.
But being around other people who can truly empathize with you helps and heals. My son is bald in the back of his head with a huge scar going from the nape of his neck to the middle of his skull. No one laughed at him or gawked at him. There were kids in wheel chairs and casts, and wrapped in bandages. No one felt uncomfortable or out of place. We embraced one another. We shared our stories. We became a village of neighbors in support of one another.
The way the RMH is set up, we all rely on one another. There is a community kitchen that requires all families to clean up after cooking a meal. There's a laundry facility that requires prompt removal of laundry. There are common lounge areas and play areas that must be tidied up after being occupied. We all must do our part in order for the RMH to be comfortable. There are no maids or housekeepers. Before checking out of the room, I was responsible for cleaning it and making sure it looked exactly the way it was when I had arrived. The rules are simple, and the motto is, consider the next family staying here once you leave.
During hard times people naturally seem to be more compassionate and understanding to each other. I wonder what it would have been like it the RMH was only for millionaire families. I bet it would have been the complete opposite. I can only imagine how some families would separate themselves from others, or how money would be the topic of many discussions. But even then, you can't buy good health. Last time I checked, there was no cure for cancer.
Humility and service are vital to genuine human
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