You don’t expect to see a toddler scamper past you in a gym parking lot when you step out of your car. I waited for his mom to close in on him, but she didn’t. The parking lot is on a slight incline, and the little boy was farther down than I would have thought by the time I reached the end of my car.
Another man in his twenties stepped out of his car about the same time I did. We both did a double take before realizing one of us needed to chase the little guy down.
“I can’t run,” I said.
“No worries. I’ve got him.” The man had a Jamaican accent. He caught the toddler in no time, who, by now, started to scream and cry, realizing a stranger had grabbed him.
The man held the toddler away from his body, the way all men hold toddlers, until the boy’s mom came into view.
“Thank you.” She explained that she had two kids and one of them got away from her while she was putting the other one in the car. She thanked us again and headed to her car with her little one safe and sound.
“Sorry, man,” I told the other guy. “I just can’t run anymore. My back is messed up.”
“No worries.”
“I’m just here for the swimming pool.”
“Well, you can’t run, and I can’t swim.” He laughed.
“Oh, I don’t swim. I just walk laps in the pool to stay active. I mostly just take up space while others swim.”
“But you’re here.”
In other words, my presence is what matters.
As the overweight guy, it’s easy to look around the gym or pool and see that nearly everyone else is in better shape than I am, all while wondering whether some of them are snickering at me.
But I’m here. And hearing someone else acknowledge that, rather than tearing me down, meant something to me. It was just three words but they were powerful.
After getting out of the pool and showering, I began the laborious process of trying to get dressed without my clothes touching the wet floor. With a bad back, it’s also hard to bend, so that adds a complication. So, I use a wall by the lockers to support myself as I slip my pants on. Actually, I didn’t even realize I did that until the guy who had been swimming next to me waited behind me, which is code for, you are blocking my way to my locker.
“Sorry, I’ll be done in just a minute,” I said.
“It’s OK. I use that wall to support myself too when I get dressed. When you get older, well … it’s just not as easy as it used to be.”
“That’s the truth.” I told him about my lower back issues and my pinched nerves. He didn’t say those magical three words, but he expressed them in his body language. That meant something to me too.
We have opportunities every day to notice the effort someone else is making. Sometimes all it takes are three simple words – or the kindness behind them – to remind someone that showing up matters.
