I wasn’t expecting to learn a profound message about grief from my Uber driver. When he asked me what I do, and I told him about my passion for serving people who are grieving, he was instantly ready to give me his words of wisdom.
Jeff was 18 years old when he shattered his pelvis and the surrounding bones. One of the first things the doctors told him was that he would never walk again, so he better get used to that change.
It all felt like it was too much for him. How was he going to handle it? How could he live his life without the ability to walk where needed? Would he ever drive? Would he ever be able to lead the life he dreamed of leading?
The example of those around him in the ward were those who had given up. They sat in their beds, watching TV and ticking down the hours of the day, showing little enthusiasm for any physical therapy.
As he started to feel the waves of grief, he noticed he was sinking into a similar pit of despair. However, something else stepped in, and he got a jolt of inspiration. Michael didn’t speak about a spiritual moment at this point, but there was a moment that he remembers when he knew everything in his heart and mind had to change. He was at that fork in the road and knew he could either sink farther and think of his life as being over, or he could choose something else.
The something else was this in the little voice he heard:
“Jeff, just take one step.”
Jeff knew that if he tried to wrap his whole mind around the hand that life had dealt him, he would be crushed by the weight. Alternatively, if he looked at the distance of one small step that he could take in front of him (literal or proverbial), he found he could manage it. The distance isn’t impossible.
So, he did just that. He took one small step—a huge victory for his hopes, dreams, and life. And just as he did before, and from there, he took another small step. Then, another. Then another.
The doctors and nurses were stunned by his progress. Within weeks, the doctors had changed their tune completely and told him that there was hope. By that point, he knew he didn’t need their encouragement. He was being encouraged by something else.
The little voice kept going, “Jeff, keep your eyes up.”
He knew there was a plan for him—something that he needed to be completely mobile in order to accomplish. Being bound to crutches or a wheelchair was not going to be a part of his story.
When I met him, he was finishing up an incredibly successful career as an accountant and busy dad, who was just sending his kiddos off to university. He Ubered to have conversations like this one—to inspire others with the stories of his life and give others the encouragement to not let grief keep them down.
Whose voice are you listening to? What power does grief have over your life? What “just one step” can you take today to walk through an overwhelming situation?