Originally published in Third Degree of Freedom.
Two women from the Philippines are helping me with a home project. They’re smart, they work hard, and they’re compassionate. Traits I obviously admire. And even though they’ve both been handed their share of tragedy, they still agree, “Life is good.”
One is a single mother of six who just made the newspapers for being the victim of her former employer, a man she—along with quite a few other men and women—trusted and had great compassion for because of tragedy in his own family. She has a good heart, and because of it, she borrowed against everything she owned, including her home, to help someone she considered a friend.
She’s still singed from the fire but at the same time trying not to lose her sense of trust and compassion. That’s such a part of her that it would be a shame to lose not just her life savings but also her sense of innocence.
“But I’ve got great kids,” she tells me with a smile.
“Life is good,” echoes the other woman.
She’s keeping a positive outlook, which amazes me considering what she’s been through. Her friend tells me that people in the Philippines don’t suffer from depression like Americans do. Maybe it’s the pace of life here or maybe it’s the lack of attunement to Nature, or maybe it’s just not being ourselves. She finds it curious.
Then she adds, “Life is good.”
Before I can wonder how she can say that, she tells me that her husband was murdered in the Philippines in the 90’s but she had four children to raise and she had to go on with life.
“Life is good,” she says again.
Yeah. Yeah, it is. Even when things are bad, there’s still enough good to make it all worth the effort.
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