I am so lucky. I have options. I can raise funds for other folks to do the feeding. I can, eventually, get a bike or electric cart from which to hand out food. I can't have everything I want right now, but I can earn and save and plan. I have a tremendously supportive, giant family and friends everywhere I turn.
I know a lot of disabled people, and they get so discouraged! There aren't enough support groups. Even if they're able to work a little, it's almost impossible to find a job that accommodates a variety of disabilities. (I had the most flexible job I can imagine and still had to leave it.) The poverty is difficult. The pain is exhausting. But the very worst part is the loneliness. It's hard to think of any reason to keep on living if you're not touching any lives and none are touching you. It's hard to accept income you didn't earn and know that if you weren't around, that money could be spent on someone else. It's that old George Bailey feeling of being worth more dead than alive.
Everyone has worth. Everyone's life matters. I believe this more strongly than most, I think. The challenge is to find and trust our gifts. The middle-aged, masters-degree holding, unemployed former managers have to wonder if their whole lives were on a wrong path or whether their usefulness has just dried up. There is more usefulness in there, somewhere, and we can find it. We have to help one another. We have to talk. We have to allow everyone the dignity of a look in the eye and at least a polite "good morning."
Is there someone you know who can't find their value? Is there something you can do or say that might make a difference? Do it! Say it! Even acknowledge that their need for a little support makes YOU feel more useful. Our lives are a delicate balance and intertwined with far more other lives than we're ever aware of. Let's not take one another for granted, and let's not assume that anyone can make it alone.