The Best We Can

I watched an interview with Brené Brown where she asked, "Do you believe that people are doing the best they can? Do you believe in general, that when people wake up everyday, they're doing the best they can?" 

The person hearing the question said yes, they did believe in general that people were doing the best they could. Brené admitted that her first impulse was a resounding no. I had to think about it, first asking myself, "Do I think I am doing the best I can?" 

I tend to raise the bar for myself, unfortunately. I compare myself to others and see the ways in which I could be more. Just more and better in general. So to answer my own question, I silently thought, "Probably not. I'm doing well, but I'm probably not doing the best I can." 

Just as I had hovered over this "maybe some percentage" mindset, Brené said to fix in your mind someone you would consider isn't really doing their best. Immediately, I pictured the mothers in Ecuador who let their sons be beaten by an abusive boyfriend whom they chose not to leave but instead had more kids with, the fathers who abandoned their families, and countless other scenarios which left the teens I had worked with deeply hurt and alone. Even though I knew full well it was part of a vicious cycle, I had felt anger on behalf of those kids. Perhaps the anger had been a quick flare, cooled by the sadness in seeing the linked chain of poverty and neglect, but still. They flitted into my mind just as Brené said to then imagine that God came down and told you, "That person is doing the very best they can right now." 

Paradigm shift. 

Brené talked about anger turning to grief; yes. If we assume that the person we think could do so much better is actually doing their best, we exude compassion instead of judgement. There still has to be boundaries, as Brené wisely talked about, but the lens changes. 

I thought about assumptions over grace, and more than anything I remembered the women and transgender men in prostitution I'd go visit every couple of weeks in downtown Quito. Back then, I quickly saw their insecurity hiding behind a facade of indifference, and over time, I slowly learned their stories. The girl sold to a brothel as a preteen, with no education. The boy who suffered abuse his whole childhood. The attempts at other jobs, being told they weren't good for anything else, and finally the acceptance into the ragtag yet fierce community of sex workers who had each other's backs. The stuffing down of dreams, because to dream of doing anything else was too painful. The bare minimum of survival, thankful for each other, thankful to be free to walk the streets rather than trafficked and held hostage by a pimp. This was their reality, and yes, I would say with absolute certainty that they were doing the best they could. 

They were doing the best they could, though this was difficult to explain, at times, to people back home, who simply heard the word prostitute and jumped to conclusions about a sinful life. But oh, if you had seen their excitement when I made them cookies, their embarrassment when someone tried to take their photo from across the street, their nervousness when a cop drove by, and the way they waved and even jumped sometimes when they saw my friends and I walking their way for the sole purpose of visiting them to show love and friendship. They were doing their best, and I loved them for it, with all of my aching heart. 

With that in mind - my thoughts having expanded outward - I turned inward for a moment more. Maybe, I can tell myself that in general, most of the time, I am doing the best I can. I will always believe in improvement, yet I've also come to appreciate the tiny acts of kindness which can create a mountain of good. There was a time I thought I had to have some great and clear purpose in my life which I would follow till the end. Now, I don't think so at all, not for me or for anyone else. I think goals and dreams can change, whether intentionally (discovering or choosing a new passion) or by life's design (accidents and losses which can dramatically alter course). Rather, I think of the poem above, which lists small acts of love before stating, "I shall not live in vain." 

It it enough. We are each enough. So, may we extend grace to those around us to believe they are doing the best they can, accepting first that gentle grace for ourselves. May we seek to understand, with compassion. May we remember that there are times when just being rather than doing is our absolute best, and that it is enough.