After many years of living, I am beginning to realize that the beauty of life does not come from its perfection. It comes from the messiness, the struggles, and the times when we think we can no longer move forward, yet somehow we find a way. The beauty of life comes from the people who are standing by us when everything else falls apart.
Every single life has worth; I believe that. Not in a Hallmark card type of way, but in the very raw truth that every single person impacts the lives around them in ways we will never be able to understand fully. A surgeon who fixes a broken forehead not only fixes that person’s face so they can smile at their children, eat dinner with friends, and show the world their face without shame; that surgeon also creates a ripple effect in which that patient goes on to touch the lives of others. We are all part of a large web of people and actions in which a person’s healing and recovery can be a source of hope for another person.
It was in my failures that I learned the most important lessons of my life. From surgeries that did not go as planned. From my own body failing me time after time for six years of treatments and recoveries. Those dark valleys, not the mountaintop successes, were the places I found the most valuable lessons. Humility, vulnerability, and the importance of asking for help were the things I learned in those dark valleys.
We do not become whole as a result of going through challenges. We become whole as a result of the challenges themselves.
Consider it this way. The life of ease and simplicity, for all its benefits, teaches us little about the strength of human resolve, compassion, and the depths of courage. However, facing a serious illness, losing someone you love, and watching all your well-laid plans fall apart—beauty, these events break us open. They hurt terribly. Yet, through those breaks, light enters. We discover within ourselves new reserves of capacity we did not know existed. We learn who truly stands by us when the chips are down.
I would not have been able to get through my health journey alone. Joyce was there for me through it all. My sons kept in touch, supported me, and made sure I did not give in to despair. Friends prepared meals for me. Colleagues encouraged me. The network of care I received did not only enable me to survive but also gave me reasons to want to survive. When we are shown to be valued by others, we begin to value ourselves again, even when our bodies seem like a foreign land.
That is what I wish everyone understood: we need each other. Not in some abstract, philosophical sense, but in the everyday, practical realities of being human. There is the friend that listens to you when you are scared. There is the spouse who holds your hand as you go through an MRI. There is the child who sends you a text just to tell you they are thinking of you. These are not footnotes to life. These are the essence of life.
The course of life is not always an upward climb. It consists of mountains and valleys, switchbacks and straightaways, moments of exquisite beauty, and periods of trudging through mud. I have experienced both. The mountains taught me how to be grateful. The valleys taught me how to endure. And through them, I have developed into a much more complex, complete, and genuine human being than I was in my earlier years when I thought I knew it all.
We are not meant to be simple. We are meant to be layered, contradictory, and evolving. I can experience both grief and joy at the same time. I can recognize that life is difficult while still finding it precious. I can accept my limits while continuing to push past them. This tension does not make me broken; it makes me whole.
When I look at society, I see the potential for collective caring represented in individual acts. The neighbor who clears the snow from your sidewalk. The stranger who allows you to merge in traffic. The healthcare provider who takes the time to explain something clearly to you. The friend who brings you coffee because he/she knows you are struggling—these may not be grand acts of kindness, but they are the building blocks of a kinder society.
We are all stumbling along together, attempting to make sense of existence, seeking meaning and connections. Sometimes we are the ones providing support. Other times, we are the ones desperately seeking it. That is the beautiful exchange of the human community. We take turns supporting one another.
The value of life is not derived from meeting some preconceived notion of success. It is derived from the relationships we cultivate, the kindness we exhibit, and the growth we experience as a result of both achievement and failure. It is derived from understanding that your life is of significance to mine, and vice versa, and that collectively, we create something greater than ourselves, a tapestry of interwoven stories, each thread integral to the entire tapestry.
That is the harmonious journey of life we are creating: not one without conflict but one in which we encounter those inevitables together, with empathy, vice versa, authenticity, and hands extended to each other when we stumble. That is the authenticity, the endlessness of life—authenticity, but we do not have to experience it alone.
