I’ve come to the conclusion that I need a third hand. How many times have I tried to juggle a bunch of items because I only have two hands? But if I had a third hand, life would be sooo much easier! For instance, when I went to the grocery store the other day, I forgot my bag. I bought a large box of coffee pods (on sale), two bananas, four containers of yogurt and a box of crackers. (Those were just the items my wife and I forgot on our previous trip to the grocery store.) I went to the self-checkout station and fumbled everything in my arms. Then when I paid for the items, I was confounded as to how to get all my purchases to the car without losing any of them in the parking lot. I came up with the idea of carrying the yogurt containers in my hat. We won’t go into what happened next.
Life is like that sometimes. One day, you can handle whatever comes your way, then the next, you’re a circus performer trying to juggle more balls or bowling pins than you can catch. As the Nigerian author Chinua Achebe reminded us in his 1958 debut novel, “things fall apart.” Boy, do they!
Fortunately, life is a series of temporary phenomena. Usually (but not always), there is some recovery time built into the process we call living. But when there isn’t, we either need a third hand or a measure of divine intervention. But the truth of the matter is no one has yet invented an operative third hand, and divine intervention is not ours to summon on speed dial.
Then there is also the old adage about many hands making light work. While that may be true, the promise of lighter work lies on the supposition that those extra hands will be available and willing at the right time and in the right place. Remember me at the grocery store? Where were all those helping hands when I needed them?
We’re all in this together and there are times when we need a third (or fourth or fifth) hand. Maybe even a village. Even Robinson Caruso on his deserted island had Friday. Many consider Defoe’s book, published in 1719, to be the first true English novel. If that’s the case, then maybe DeFoe’s message is that Caruso’s isolation could only overcome by his ingenuity, faith, self-reliance…and Friday.
Admit it: we spend an inordinate portion of our lives short-handed. But we came into this world with only two hands and most of the time, that’s sufficient. But then admit this, too: sometimes, there are loads, whether ungainly like my groceries or heavy like a friend with cancer, when a third hand would be not only welcome and appreciated but also essential and desperately needed.
Maybe a third hand is not in our genetic makeup, but the support of a friend can often make life bearable and can transform clumsy juggling into happier living. Think about it.
I’ll be right back.
