The Least

There is nothing funnier as a parent then seeing your adult children unconsciously mimic you.  My oldest daughter, Megan, can be heard using my favorite words, “Well, I don’t hate it” when she is uncertain about how she feels.  And Aileen teases me but still says, “Surely you jest!” when speaking with friends.

I seem to have a never-ending collections of catch phrases.  These quick-witted sayings come flying out of my mouth – too many to even count.  They are from old movies, TV shows or expressions I heard as a child.    Every time someone breaks or destroys anything around the house, you’ll most assuredly hear me scream,  “This is why we can’t have nice things!”  And I’m known to yell, “Immediately if not sooner” when my nagging has gone unanswered.  The other day my son’s girlfriend, Jillian, asked why he always kids around saying, “What is your major malfunction?”  KC thought a moment – then said, “my mom always says that!”

But lately, I've noticed my overuse of a certain catch phrase.   A friend is sick and I immediately say, “Lets bring her flowers – it’s the least we can do.”   Or we are driving over a bridge, pouring down rain with an evening sky on fire with lightening; as Ken grips the steering wheel I say, "well at least there is no wind tonight.” And just yesterday I announced, "I'm eating this burger without a bun - it's the least I can do to lose weight"

Ken is quick to mumble, “and no one will ever say YOU didn't do the least!”  When I think about it the least is a poor excuse for doing close to nothing.  It sounds small and of no consequence.    

From my overuse of this expression, I’ve come to understand that sometimes the very least is all I can accomplish. Simply completing one task for the day has me feeling pretty good.  Multiple Sclerosis has lifted the burden of multi-tasking and replaced it with an acceptance of the least.  And in my world, that really isn’t small or inconsequential. 

Now mind you, the month of June marks the anniversary of the first symptom and diagnosis of this disease.  It happened 9 years ago and acceptance has come as slowly as its progression.  More often than not, the only suitable response to the harshness of each new affliction is to accept the least.   But not in a lie down and take it sort of way.  Never! The trick is to accept the struggle while never letting it overshadow the possibilities found in the day.  Sometimes peace is found in the compromise of what seems small. 

“Get busy living or busy dying.”  

 I’m fighting like hell to keep busy enjoying the ride.  And that means living a full, large life challenging myself every step of the way.  

After all, that's the least I can do.