Our family went to Sunday mass yesterday (our little attempt at purging ourselves of sin and making sure our Catholic Guilt stays within a certain range. j/k Big G!), and usually, while the priest is giving potentially life-saving and sage advice, I am thinking about equally important things, like that fantastic dress I saw on sale at Ann Taylor Loft, the one that would fit only after I went on The Biggest Loser (the actual TV show, not just the diet, because I think I would do much better in a gorgeous mansion surrounded by personal chefs and trainers….something about having an entire entourage making sure you don’t eat that animal-style double-double from IN & OUT. I don’t know, I’m just taking a wild guess here).

So I am in the middle of thinking about an animal-style double-double…..I mean……..FINE! I was thinking about that damn burger….there, are you happy? Now I’m humiliated! And I have to take a break and rummage through the fridge, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you don’t want to confront feelings of unworth, right?

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*smacking lips*

Ok. Much Better.

Now.

What I was trying to get at was that the priest caught my attention with one little statement that had a profound impact on me.

“We’re all in this together.”

Yep. Just those five little words and I’m still thinking about them today.
Because it makes so much sense.
And it goes above labels like dentist, teacher, rich, poor, (note that I did not intentionally place dentist/rich, teacher/poor in that order. That was my subconsious, so you can’t blame me) mother, father, man, woman.

That statement puts us all under the same classification, the most meaninful and terrifying one of all: Human.

We are all in this together.

I see it all the time. Among co-workers, as we lean on each other during a tough day; when a student has disrespected us, or a parent has hurt us.

I see it at the stores, especially now, when we all reach for our coupons, or cringe at the register when the total comes up.

I see it in my classroom, among my five and six year olds who count on their friends to make them laugh, compliment their artwork, encourage their attempts at challenging material, and join in their imaginative games during recess.

I see it in my home, when my mom looks at me as I walk through the door, her eyes pleading with me to take over caring for her mother, so that she can escape for a few hours and forget about strokes and illness and the inevitable.

I see it with my husband, as he struggles to find work in an economic crisis, and wants support and understanding from his wife, rather than judgement and impatience.

I see it with my own children, who trust their parents to always protect them, and especially Superman, who, at the end of the night, asks why we have to get old and die.

We are all just Human in the end. Faced with struggles that may be cloaked in different shrouds but which illicit the same burning tears and feelings of despair.

We all know what it feels like to be hungry.
We all know what it feels like to be cold.
We all know the pain of loss, no matter how great or small.
We all know what it means to thirst; for love, for friendship, for someone to tell us that our mistakes are forgiven.

Anyway, I just wanted to share that with you, for whatever it’s worth. It was on my mind, and so I blogged about it. Which is why I have this thing in the first place. To make you read about my opinions and brainwash you into thinking that I am All Knowing and All Powerful. (Kidding again, Big G!).

So. The bottom line is that I sort of take comfort in knowing that in the end, we are all imperfect, like dented cans in the discount bin at the local grocery store.

Okay.

Maybe now I’m going off the deep end a bit.

But hey.
I’m only Human.

And blllllrrrrrrp.

So are you.