There once was this awful ice storm that kept coating tree limbs with such heavy ice that they not only broke off and fell but many whole trees were uprooted altogether, days and nights filled with popping, cracking and slamming sounds in forests and in towns.
Those with chainsaws and winches traveled about to help clear these trees that blocked roads, making it so no one could go about their work to support their families. In this town where we live, there are many "old families" who've lived here for generations. Most lived in harmony, as you'd imagine, but here were a couple who'd carried on with feuds not unlike the Hatfields and McCoys, short of violence.
One day, a massive tree blocked a public road, and there was no going over it easily even climbing, nevermind around it with a vehicle. And it wasn't going to move itself.
To my amazement, two members of a feuding family came to it at the same time, each wanting to get to the other side. Each had a chainsaw and knew just what to do to slice into that barrier, bit by bit, to move it out of the way in any way they could manage. Extra hands would make lighter work of it, but there was no way to call for help back then. They were on their own.
Each man eyed the other, having no little dismay at being forced to lend their tool and fuel to the other on this task. Their eyes locked in this understanding of mutual resentment.
But then their gazes softened to reason and yielded to their willingness to do the right thing of setting aside their emotions, at least long enough to tackle the greater priority of freeing access for their own friends and family and selves, and the pride of doing it well and quickly, in honor of the good men who taught them. Perhaps a little spirit of competition, too, was at play in feeling motivated to show off some of these skills and best the other at the same time.
VRRROOOOM VRRROOOOM VRRROOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM! the saws burst to life, chains spinning! In the wrong hands - or with wicked intent - a person could lose a limb. Accidents can and do happen, and no one's gone to jail for such yet because no one would be the wiser. Or so the temptation might say.
Another moment of eye contact put that temptation to rest: Just live, and do this thing in peace, and get on with life in one piece. A gentleman's unspoken contract, and a sacred one.
BWWAAAAAAHHHHHMmmmmmmmm...BWWAAAAAAHHHHHMmmmmmmmm...Each took the opposite end of the tree to free up the weight of the middle where there was no hard road beneath to dull their chains. Those freed, they came in from the ends toward the middle, slicing straight through the obstacle as far as they could until sense and common experience halted them. One was willing to climb to the other's side of the log, and joining strength, they rolled it to expose the final cuts needed to finish that stage of the task where the now-smaller parts could more easily be rolled or lifted and tossed off the road and out of the way.
Later, someone might come to collect the log sections to make them smaller and let the sun and wind season them and make them dry enough to put in a stove to heat their home the next winter. For now, they were pleased it took less time to be successful than it would've had they put their efforts to screaming their laundry lists of differences and reasons they don't want to do the work.
The only sound that came next was the slamming of two truck tailgates after chainsaws, oil and wedges were put away and the men resumed their days. As they got back behind their steering wheels and started their engines to continue heading in opposite directions, they exchanged one last glance of appreciation for respect and help, punctuated by small mutual country "wave" of a few fingers lifted off the steering wheel before heading off forever changed by the fact that what was once thought "impossible" had suddenly been made "possible", their claims of "NEVER!" rendered into "Maybe I WILL try".
There was no demand to suddenly like the other person, but the call to be willing to be part of solutions and peace was awakened as a priority whether they sought them out or cringed at the thought of more incidents like that challenge coming their way.
During that same storm, we were fortunate to have a drinkable brook behind the lodge and a good woodstove for heat. Treeworkers were invited night or day to come in and get warm and have a meal or snack, as it was grueling work in temperatures of twenty below zero at night. My husband became known as "that coffee and donut guy" who brought those and his chainsaw on a little sled down our road. He'd had the wisdom to park our vehicle at the neighbor's who lived at the end of the town maintained stretch; the last half mile was up to us to plow and maintain.
Bill took hot water to that neighbor for washing while they waited for fuel to become available again for their generator; town supplies were short for that ten days of calamity, but cold winters can become a beautiful second language and habit of preparedness. When the power company saw Bill and his sled with comealongs and coffee, prepared to try to move a huge boulder out "our" road inch by inch "come hell or high water, and high water would help", they made quick work of it with a swipe of their heavy duty boom, all the labor lightened by cheer.
I'm sure you are or know a person like that, too, those who never made it to "the news" but are forever recorded in our memories: people who offered power outlets to recharge phones during hurricanes, or climbed over obstacles to deliver urgent supplies, or shared sparse food with a stranger, or gave a little candy to quiet a heart or mind, or simply watched and reported a drug dealer to cops so they might be prevented from further harm.
A life is made as well or as badly in response to such events as storms and threats, moment by moment. And this moment is all we can call our own; we only guess we have a tomorrow.
So, if "there's no greater love than one gives their life for another", could it be that referred not just to heroics in battle but also to lending moments to lift another even if it's the last thing on our list of joys? We were born with our lives; they weren't "earned". Maybe it's worth considering that great successes are possible only by the strength and quality of even the smallest elements that go into them. A tremendous ship is grand, yet without even the smallest rivets that hold it together keeping their strength and form, its rudder would fail to help it go where it steers and its outer cover would fail and it would sink.
Smaller still are the molecules, the tiny mountains, which make up the metal from which the rivets are made; yet look at the wonders possible from being willing to put what little it has to some good use.
Why do I write this? I can't say "no" to doing so; maybe it'll do some small good somewhere to be reminded that there is no love or care "too small" to make a difference, and there's certainly no shortage of opportunities that would welcome it. Nothing has the power to shut the door against a possible "happy ending" to any string of events. So, let's keep finding or making ways to keep the good shining through the darkness, shall we?
Lark out.
