The Ledger

By Becky Holland

I spent part of my afternoon at the Tessie W. Norris Cochran-Bleckley County Library watching a juggler perform for a room full of children.

The kids sat wide-eyed as clubs flew through the air. They laughed, clapped and waited for the inevitable moment when one might come crashing to the floor.

It never did.

As I watched, it struck me that every adult in that room was a juggler too.

The difference is our juggling acts are invisible.

Some people are juggling work deadlines and doctor’s appointments. Others are juggling aging parents and raising children. Some are juggling financial worries, health problems, anxiety or grief. Others are simply trying to make it through another day without dropping the ball.

This week, I received more feedback on one of my columns than I have in quite some time. It was about one of my pet peeves—when people don’t respond to a phone call or text message.

Many readers agreed. They said a simple acknowledgment goes a long way.

But many others shared something equally important.

One reader wrote about living with social anxiety and ADHD. He described how seeing a message that says, “Give me a call when you have a minute,” can send his mind into overdrive. Another reader said she felt as though he had described her life perfectly. Others admitted they become overwhelmed, distracted or simply forget.

I read every comment.

Something occurred to me.

We often judge people by the club we see falling, without realizing they’re keeping five others in the air.

That doesn’t mean kindness and courtesy no longer matter. I still believe a quick response, even if it’s just, “I can’t talk right now, but I’ll get back to you,” is a simple act of respect.

But I also walked away with something my readers reminded me of.

Grace matters too.

Most of us aren’t intentionally ignoring people. Most of us aren’t trying to be rude. We’re simply doing our best to keep everything moving without letting it all come crashing down.

The juggler at the library made it look effortless.

I’m sure it wasn’t.

Behind every smooth performance are countless dropped clubs, hours of practice and moments of frustration that the audience never sees.

Life is much the same way.

The person who forgot to return your text may have spent the afternoon at a doctor’s office. The neighbor who seemed distracted may have just left a nursing home. The coworker who missed a deadline may be carrying a burden they haven’t told anyone about.

We rarely know the whole story.

That doesn’t excuse thoughtlessness.

It simply reminds us that there are usually things we cannot see.

As I left the library, I realized the lesson wasn’t really about juggling.

It was about people.

We’re all carrying something. We’re all trying to keep a few clubs in the air. And every now and then, despite our best efforts, one slips through our fingers.

When that happens, I hope someone offers us the same thing we all need from time to time.

A little patience.

A little understanding.

And a little grace.

Juggle Like An Egyptian/Photo By Becky Holland