Last week I got one of those e-mails that makes its way around the internet from an HPS friend of mine, Ana. I must confess – typically I don’t read these. It isn’t that I don’t like them, it’s just that I have so little time. Between work, HPS and my personal mail, I get several hundred e-mails a day (and that’s not counting the spam!) So, admittedly, when I see that big list of forwards, I usually delete the mail.
But this time I happened to read it. I hadn’t heard from Ana in a while, so the e-mail caught my attention. While these e-mails almost always have a great message and a good story, I thought this one was particularly poignant to living with a rare disorder as well as being an advocate. So, here’s the story:
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen.
She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans.
She let them sit and boil; without saying a word. In about 20 minutes she turned off the burners.
She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see."
"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," the daughter replied. Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. The daughter did, and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity - boiling water.
Each reacted differently.
The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
"Which are you?" she asked her daughter,"When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond?”Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Do I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart? Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor.
If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level?
I’d love to provide attribution, but in it’s circling of the Web, that seems to have been lost.
To be honest, I’m all three.
There are days when I’ve had enough and I wilt like the carrots. I don’t feel good and I don’t want to be tough or change the world. There are days when I’m like the egg. I feel angry and bitter about the way HPS has impacted my life and I mourn the things I feel I’ve lost. But the best days are the days when I feel like the coffee – the ones when I’ve been blessed with an opportunity to take this boiling water and change it as much as it’s changed me.
I have no control over what HPS has in store for me. I have no control over how it affects my now many, many friends with this disease. My only choice is about how I choose to respond. Am I conquered by it? Do I try to pretend it isn’t there? Do I get bitter about the various ways it’s impacting my life big and small? I’d be lying if I said never experience all of those things. Yet, I feel the best when I opt for the last option – to be part of the solution, to be a part, even if only a tiny, tiny part, of the cure.
But this time I happened to read it. I hadn’t heard from Ana in a while, so the e-mail caught my attention. While these e-mails almost always have a great message and a good story, I thought this one was particularly poignant to living with a rare disorder as well as being an advocate. So, here’s the story:
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen.
She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans.
She let them sit and boil; without saying a word. In about 20 minutes she turned off the burners.
She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see."
"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," the daughter replied. Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. The daughter did, and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity - boiling water.
Each reacted differently.
The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
"Which are you?" she asked her daughter,"When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond?”Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Do I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart? Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor.
If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level?
I’d love to provide attribution, but in it’s circling of the Web, that seems to have been lost.
To be honest, I’m all three.
There are days when I’ve had enough and I wilt like the carrots. I don’t feel good and I don’t want to be tough or change the world. There are days when I’m like the egg. I feel angry and bitter about the way HPS has impacted my life and I mourn the things I feel I’ve lost. But the best days are the days when I feel like the coffee – the ones when I’ve been blessed with an opportunity to take this boiling water and change it as much as it’s changed me.
I have no control over what HPS has in store for me. I have no control over how it affects my now many, many friends with this disease. My only choice is about how I choose to respond. Am I conquered by it? Do I try to pretend it isn’t there? Do I get bitter about the various ways it’s impacting my life big and small? I’d be lying if I said never experience all of those things. Yet, I feel the best when I opt for the last option – to be part of the solution, to be a part, even if only a tiny, tiny part, of the cure.
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