The other day I was at City Market when I noticed a monumentally thin woman moving slowly down the aisle. She was walking with a cane, leaning hard on her cart for support. Her face was scrunched with pain — the kind of pain that isn’t temporary, or dramatic, or loud… just constant.
I watched her for a moment, feeling that tug of concern. And then it hit me.
It was my friend Liz — who many of you may know.
Liz and her husband have been involved in this community for years. And back in the day when I worked with her, she ALWAYS had a smile, no matter what was going on in her own life. I hadn’t seen her in quite a while. I’ve always known she lives with MS, and she has always been thin… but seeing her now, after a few years, I was struck by how frail she had become.
I hesitated for a split second — not because I didn’t want to reach out, but because I didn’t want to intrude. But of course I did.
And as soon as she recognized me, her eyes lit up like always. Her smile was almost as bright. She was genuinely happy to see me, and we hugged — carefully. I was afraid to hug too hard.
She immediately explained (through an extraordinarily dry mouth) that the medications she is currently on make it difficult to talk because her mouth is constantly dry. We caught up on family. She showed me pictures of her new grandson. I showed her pictures of my great-granddaughter. For a few minutes we did what old friends do — we remembered what matters, and we smiled our way through it.
We parted with promises to keep in touch.
After I finished shopping and was loading my car, I saw Liz slowly making her way outside. She was using her cart as a walker carrying a paper bag that I knew would be a difficult lift for her. I offered to help get it into the car. She hesitated — she’s proud, for sure — but I insisted.
Honestly, I was so inspired by her courageous fight. I told her that.
And she replied:
“Oh Judi… thank you. But there are SO MANY people in the world much less fortunate than I, and I feel lucky and blessed for my many family and friends.”
Wow.
That stopped me in my tracks.
Because I sometimes fall into the trap of comparing my life with the lives of others — which is a bad idea in and of itself. Most often, it’s the “upward comparisons” that get me: people who seem to have more… more money, more freedom, more grace, more health.
But Liz reminded me of something deeper and more important: there are also many, many people who have so much less — and what matters most is what we do with what we have.
And that’s where Rotary comes in.
Rotary has a way of re-centering me — shifting my focus away from comparison and toward gratitude… and toward service. Rotary reminds me that my life is filled with abundance, even on hard days. And it also reminds me to look outward: to see the needs of others and ask, how can we help?
Sometimes that help looks like protecting turtle eggs on a beach in Costa Rica.
Sometimes it looks like food on a table.
Sometimes it looks like education, warmth, opportunity, dignity, hope.
But the theme is always the same:
Rotary teaches us to look for need — and respond with love.
And when I do that — when I stop comparing and start serving — I always feel better. Not because the world suddenly becomes perfect… but because I remember who we are.
We are people who show up.
We are people who care.
We are people who do something.
That’s Rotary.
And I’m grateful to be on this team with all of you.
With warm Rotary hugs,
