“Do I matter?” It’s a big question. I think we knew that we mattered while our children were little. I think we knew as we supported our families. I think we knew as we were engaged in our careers. But now?
Last week, I sat with the 99-year-old woman for whom I volunteer to help write out her bills (she has macular degeneration). She lives in a senior housing development with an aide and seems to have a solid network of friends in the building. While she has children and grandchildren, none are very local, and some are on the West Coast.
“Do I matter?” she asked me as I sorted through a pile of bills, requests for donations, and junk mail.
She is a very bright woman and was very politically active in her day, deeply caring about our country, justice, and the environment. I didn’t know whether she was musing or whether she was waiting for me to respond.
I let the question hang in the air as I thought about it…a 99-year-old woman who is pretty limited (although not as much as many others). I told her, “I truly look forward to our visits, and you always make me smile. I feel good being in your company. I think you matter.” She smiled.
It’s a question we all wrestle with. After all, if we don’t matter, why do we exist?
Certainly, there are enough bodies on the planet to consume oxygen. I think we need to find our place, our meaning, our purpose so that we continue to matter. It doesn’t need to have global consequences, but we still need to find that answer for ourselves.
