You are working on your computer and your internet connection goes down. You call your provider. The message says that if you have a problem, log onto the internet for help (which, of course, is a Catch 22 as this is the reason for your call to begin with) or hold for the next available assistant. The automated tape reminds you frequently that you have a choice of faster service by using the internet for assistance. By the time someone gets on the phone, you are ready to scream. You explain your problem and that you work from home so you need service as soon as possible. “Be patient.” “We’ll give you the first available appointment…next week.”
I’m sure you can imagine what it feels like for my mother and all the Jews of her generation to be told “be patient” at this point. Here’s why the Austrian government is stalling: Once my mother dies, the property and the life insurance reverts back to the Austrian government. There is no clause for survivors (my generation) to make a claim to our family’s property. “Be patient. We’re doing the best we can” has a hollow ring to it.
Being impeccable with our words, making amends that are heartfelt—without excuses, without hedging our bets—constitutes the difference between a world of pain, grief, hurt, and suffering and a world filled with compassion, comfort, trust, and joy.
You are probably appalled at my mother’s story as I would be appalled at hearing many of your stories. But the question for all of us is, “Am I doing everything in my power to be trustworthy, to follow through with my commitments, to consider others’ feelings, to be fair and just?” If the answer is no, then make amends. Now. Today. Let’s not ask others to “be patient” while we gather our courage or heal our issues. We are only as good as our word. Let that word be trustworthy.
