Other People's Hands
But recently, I had an epiphany.
Each morning, I wake up in a house I didn’t build. I eat a breakfast of food I didn’t grow, put on clothes I didn’t make, sewn from fabric I didn’t weave.
Later, I get into a car I didn’t assemble, running on fuel I didn’t produce, to buy items I didn’t stock, in a store I didn’t open or close.
Returning home, I drive on roads I didn’t pave, kept safe by stoplights I didn’t install and lane stripes I didn’t paint.
If,
along the way, I should suffer from an accident or emergency, there are
“first responders” always standing by—whose sole purpose every day is
to come and rescue me—and take me to a place where I will be cared for
and healed.The fact that I may have money to exchange for goods and services I receive doesn’t detract from a simple, basic truth: much of the life I call my own is made possible by the hard work of other people on whom I am completely dependent… and without whom, I could scarcely shelter, feed, or clothe myself.
My money, after all, is just a tool: a token of potential action rather than action itself. I can trade it for a loaf of bread -- but only because there is a farmer who planted the grain, a miller who ground it into flour, a baker who transformed it into sustenance, and countless others who supported this work along the way. Without these human hands and hearts in motion, money alone would leave me starving: I cannot eat money.
Even more profound than the physical effort and expertise of others is the irreplaceable value of their human presence. When I am sick, it isn’t just the skill of the doctor that heals but also their empathy and care.
When first responders arrive at the scene of an emergency, they do more than transport me to safety; they offer reassurance and a sense of protection in my most vulnerable moments. No amount of money can replicate the comfort of another’s compassion, the steadying strength of a helping hand, a peace of mind that’s priceless.
So I simply say: Thank you… to the builders who constructed my home over 50 years ago, so I could live in it today.
Thank you to the farmers, to the people who work at the canned goods factory, and to the ones who drive the trucks to the market. Thanks to those who work all night stocking shelves and sweeping aisles.
Thank you to the firemen and EMTs who sit calmly playing cards while waiting for alarms to go off.
Thank
you to the woman at the 7-11 who puts in long hours waiting, in case I
need a quart of milk, but always greets me with a smile.It is such a long list, so many people I will never see, supporting me—providing for my welfare. But today, at least, I’ll do my best to appreciate this life of mine, made possible only through the good graces of other people’s hands.
And whether we like it or not: we’re all actually interdependent. Our separate independence is just an illusion.
-- Michael Powers
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