Why The World Isn’t Doomed

It’s tempting to assume the world is going to hell in a handbasket.

On a good day, I have a beleaguered, world-weary outlook on the day’s headlines. This too shall pass. It’s always darkest before the dawn. On a bad day, it feels downright doomed. We are now officially in spring, following the warmest winter on record. The Iditarod shipped in snow. We know six million Syrian refugees are displaced outside their country because of horrific conditions inside it. But did you know that 300,000 Eritreans also fled their homeland in 2015? That’s in northeastern Africa. I couldn’t have found it on a map. The U.S. education system is slipping in worldwide rankings and we can’t seem to test our way out, all while we eliminate recess, gym, music and art. And for reasons I still can’t fathom, a quarter of our country feels favorably toward Donald Trump.

“I drink a little more than recommended. This world ain’t exactly what my heart expected.”

I took a walk today. I kept in view of the Rockies, which have 80 million years to their credit. There’s a reason people go to the mountains to sort things out. Also I found my first dandelion, hanging out in the melting snow. It’s funny how that first bright flash of yellow has nothing to do with weeds and everything to do with new wishes. The air was still cool enough to feel clean in my lungs. The Rockies didn’t whisper to me how to offer harbor to the world’s refugees or the solution to climate change. They said, Look at us; life is infinitesimally short… while the dandelion replied, No, the moments are long.

The answer is somewhere in the middle, of course. As all answers are.

The other day when I was having a crummy time of it, my youngest said, “When you get mad, Mommy, remember it’s not the whole world that’s broken. It’s your heart, but it’s not the whole world.” I swear that that kid is an emotional savant.

When I drop my children off at school, just drop them off at the corner without even going in, there are half a dozen people to greet. I drive down the street and wave at my daughter’s Girl Scout leader, who is co-leader with my daughter’s dance teacher. Wonderful women teaching my daughter things that aren’t tested on any standardized test. The world isn’t broken.

When my family’s schedule changed because my husband’s job changed, and I was sweating the idea of incorporating afterschool care five days a week into our lives and budget, one of my friends said, “Let’s figure this out.” And now my children are card carrying patrons of the school bus to her house. We’re a community and we keep each other buoyant. The world isn’t broken.

Work has been a veritable sprint lately. My husband just changed jobs within his company, and he’s an all-in type, so he needs to be able to hit the ground running in order to be comfortable. Each evening we plan the next day like generals strategizing an inter-galactic offensive. Or at least a fairly complicated synchronized swimming routine. Based on my high school gym class routine to Garth Brooks’ And the Thunder Rolls (if there was ever a song that begged for a synchronized swimming routine, that’s obviously it), complicated, choreographed routines are not necessarily my best thing. But we haven’t left a child anywhere yet and they get to see it’s not always easy, but it’s easier to work together. I’m calling that a win.

A bright flash of encouraging yellow pops up when we aren’t looking for it. It’s a community cook-off for a good cause. Blankets delivered to the homeless. It’s sending a succinct message to my best friend from college and getting the exact response I need. It’s the end of the day, when I settle in, tired and with a headache brewing, and find myself in a favorite triad text thread, where the theme bounces from bucket lists to favorite quotations to grammatical foibles to childhood memories, and I can feel some of the day roll away. Far-away friends suddenly as close as a happy hour, and the laughter is real.

As long as we have communities Venn-ing into communities, our hearts may be broken from time to time, but we’re surrounded by the antidote. Our circles connect, share burdens, divide sorrows.

We can slow down, breathe in deep. We can lean in, learn Eritrea’s location. We can synchronize our watches, pick up dinner on the way home, and remember how crazy lucky we are. Look for the helpers in a disaster, Fred Rogers said. It’s good advice and part of the reason I know we’re going to be okay, in the end. No matter how bad things are, some people always rush IN. They’re amazing. But look for the helpers in the mundane, too. They are the heroes of our day-to-day, the bright spots of yellow, and the menders of our hearts.

When it seems like too much, when it’s not quite what our hearts expected, we need to extend our community by one more circle. And then maybe one more. Sometimes we get broken. The world breaks us all (Hemingway, favorite).

But the world isn’t broken.