We’ve all heard the saying “everything happens for a reason.”
I’ve always been an optimist and in my younger years, I found comfort in the saying. I felt that there was magic and wonder in the world, and I had gratitude that everything that happened was meant to be.
I felt this way up until a few years ago.
When my sister passed away from cancer, I couldn’t stand hearing people say: “Everything happens for a reason.”
I couldn’t find a reason for her passing — it just didn’t make sense to me, and it still doesn’t make sense. My sister, Jennifer, was three years younger than me. I was adopted and Jennifer was raised by our birth mother.
Jennifer knew she had an older sister for 20 years before we met. I only knew I had a sister for three months before she passed. We had a lot in common and would have been the best of friends.
Recently, I had a friend say the dreaded phrase “everything happens for a reason,” and this time it was different. I didn’t cringe or resent the phrase. I found comfort in it once again.
In life, we will all experience tragic losses and no phrase, justification or silver lining will ever make it OK.
There are other moments in life that will be tough, uncomfortable and challenging, but they are not tragic.
It’s in these things that we can seek the lessons that present themselves within the experience.
I’ve had a rough few weeks, but even amongst the hurdles, there have been some beautiful moments.
I had a business coffee meeting with a colleague. We’ve connected at conferences and for business-related things over the years, but never spent much time together outside of a business setting.
She recently took a business trip to Nunavut. She knows that I have Inuit heritage and told me that she felt sad that she was going to a place where my ancestors might have walked, knowing that I have never had the opportunity to go, so she bought me a gift.
A few months ago, I received traditional Inuit tattoos on my fingers, gifted to me by an Inuit tattoo artist. The symbols of my tattoos, or ancestral markings, come from an Inuit story of a sea goddess whose fingers were cut off by a man in a kayak. Her fingers fell into the ocean and became the seals, whales and walruses.
The gift I received was a storybook sharing the story of the sea goddess and how she lost her fingers, a beautiful hand-crafted Inuit brooch, and an art card honouring the elders and cultural practices.
On any day, I would have been honoured to receive such a thoughtful gift, but an unexpected, perfect gift in the midst of a tough week enhanced the kindness. My colleague, and friend, did not know I was having a tough week.
If you put your hand in a bucket of warm water, it feels warm.
If your hand has been in a bucket of cold water, and you move that hand into warm water, the water feels hot.
The cold water magnifies the warmth, as does an act of kindness when the waters of life are a little rough.
