Life - Take it or Leave it, For Better or Worse

My daughter was born to a 35-year-old mother, a 32-year-old father, and brothers aged 16 and 14. By the time she was in high school our boys were grown and gone, and Jennifer felt like an only child. Maybe this explains why she started bringing home "throw-away kids" as they were called back then -- kids whose parents didn't know where they were, or knew but didn't care.

First it was 16-year-old Louis, who was getting kicked out of his ninth foster home. When I was appointed his guardian I made a commitment to him that I would always be his "mom" - even after his birth mother got out of prison (for using, manufacturing and selling drugs). To this day he has a key to our house, knows the alarm code, and knows he can count on us anytime of day or night. Which is reciprocal.

Then came others, one after the other, each with their own story, most staying long enough to graduate from high school. Poor Frank. When he got home from work he never knew how many kids were living under our roof on a given day. Every time I cooked a meal, I had to count noses before I did any measuring.

We all learned a lot from the experience, but the lesson that sticks most solidly in my mind is what I would say whenever Jennifer would ask, "Can so-and-so stay?" I would shake my head slowly and say, "More people, more problems." Life was so simple when our daughter was an "only" child, and with each new boarder life became more complex. But I always gave in, because it's my nature to be inclusive rather than exclusive. And... I love to help.

In more recent years, in our business, we've tried having employees, partners, affiliates, associates. Guess what. More people, more problems. We've sized up and we've sized down, and the roller coaster ride has become more exhausting than exhilarating. When it's just the two of us, life is so much simpler.

I believe in simplicity, a basic concept of most major religions. I also believe the teaching of Buddhism that "life is suffering" and that the path to emotional comfort is detachment. Therein lies the problem for many of us who trustingly welcome others into our personal circle of energy. We connect. We attach. And when the time comes for individuals to go their separate ways, it feels as though we're losing a part of ourselves. Then we have to take the time and make the effort required to slowly fill the empty spot in some way that costs us less, emotionally. This is easier to do when you're younger than when you're older.

A Chinese proverb tells us, "Life is simple. But it isn't easy." We are the ones who complicate life, which is what makes it hard, and then we pay the price. Over and over again, until we learn our lesson. Like life, lessons aren't always easy either. But... we figure it out as we go along, and do the best we can until it wears us down enough that when we leave the playing field, holding our head high in front of the crowd takes all the effort we have left. Then any trophies we may have won along the way simply gather dust, ribbons fade, and when we're gone our kids have to deal with the mementos.