It's Not a Competition

Or at least I wish it were not.

The Quilts to Christchurch project is going amazingly, phenomenally, humblingly well. Quilters from across the State of Maine have given more than 200 quilts, from doll-sized to queen, each hand made and beautiful. That’s the good news.

The bad, and I mean really bad news is the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear fallout in Japan. This disaster of galactic proportions has pushed Christchurch and her stoic citizens to the back burner, all but disappearing them from the public’s notice. While I understand the way the news cycle works, and that human existence is a struggle for resources, I come unglued when someone, upon hearing about Quilts to Christchurch, asks me what I am doing about Japan!

Not being a total idiot, I try to patiently explain that Japan’s disaster does not make life in Christchurch magically wonderful again, and that my commitment to helping the New Zealanders in whatever small way I can remains strong.

The whole discussion brings to the front of my mind an issue I’ve struggled with for years: feelings are not a competition any more than the aftermath of earthquakes should be.

Have you ever been in a conversation with someone who, no matter what you say, can best you? If you’ve had a hard day, hers was worse. If you had a great ride, his was better. If you have a close friend whom you cherish, her friend is closer, her mother meaner, his youth wilder, their schedule busier, her adolescence more angst-ridden for heaven’s sake. Doesn’t that drive you nuts?

Organized sports are even worse. Someone who works and works at improving a physical skill is still held up against others practicing that same skill, instead of being celebrated for his own achievements. A breeder produces a stunning specimen of his dog’s type and conformation, but that is not verified by an independent examiner looking at the dog and breed standard, only by competing in shows against other dogs. Maybe they were all great in the ring that day!

When did we relinquish the right to simply own and express the way we feel about our own lives, without having to justify or compete with someone else? And why can't we allow others to own theirs? When someone says, “I am so frustrated,” why can’t we reply simply, “I see that you are,” instead of listing our own annoyance? When someone comes in and says, “I ran a whole five miles today,” can we please refrain from encouraging her to enter a race???

A while ago, a man I knew and cared deeply about died. Visiting his widow several years later (and not for the first time since his death, by the way), I remarked in conversation that I missed him. “How do you think I feel?” she said, with a sharp edge of anger. Her words cut deeply and painfully. Of course I deeply regretted her pain, understood that I would never comprehend it, and immediately tried to comfort her.  But did her loss mean no one else had suffered?

By contrast, another close friend of mine died in a horrible accident a few months ago. All of us who loved her, including her husband and children, have been deeply caring of each other, without any kind of competition for who hurts the most. Frankly, that title gets passed around a lot, and no one seems to bother about it, only about each other.

The earthquake in Japan, Hurricane Katrina, the earthquake in Haiti, the tsunami in Indonesia, fires in California…all these disasters bring with them suffering and death and untold pain. Numbers of victims in one place don’t ease the pain of any survivor in an area with a lower death count.

Like I said before, I’m not a total idiot. I know that competition is the way of the world. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. 

So please don’t bring up Japan in a conversation about Christchurch, ok?