Defined by Dignity

After our move to Southern California a couple of years ago, I needed to find a new shopping venue. My beloved Meijer was no longer available, so I shortly began a relationship with Target. This new shopping relationship was enhanced by the Starbucks which was part of the Target, and my love for this new store grew, thanks to the random lattes I enjoyed from time to time. After the holidays, I saw that one of the special coffee blends was on sale, but I was unsure if my folks at home would like it. I needed more info and a solid expert opinion, so I asked the Starbucks barista.

Her name was Sarah, and she knew almost everything about coffee and more than everything about Starbucks coffee. She explained what the holiday blend was similar to (more like a medium roast than a dark roast, she said), and she quickly whipped up a taster for me to try. Sarah clearly enjoyed her job, and her positive way of engaging with the world made me glad to talk to her. Her friendliness was so uplifting that you might almost forget about the severe scoliosis that made her spine crooked and her head perpetually twisted to one side.

I remember the fear that word scoliosis would bring to my gut each year when the high school nurse would methodically check the spine of each high school girl after gym class. Dressed in our underwear, we dutifully clasped our hands in front of us, arms outstretched, and bent over at the waist so she could use her measuring tape to see how straight our spines were. My spine has never been the straightest, but my doctor poo-pooed away the school nurse’s concerns. “You have one shoulder blade that’s a little bigger than the other, that’s all,” he said. “So that’s why your spine goes in a little right there. If it doesn’t get any worse, we can just leave it alone.”

Leaving it alone could have had serious ramifications if it had progressed, I could tell from seeing Sarah. Yet her positivity made her more than a person suffering from a debilitating and probably painful disorder. She had every right to complain, to be grouchy or negative. God knows, I probably would be most days if I were in her shoes. Yet she did not allow herself to be defined by her suffering. She radiated warmth, and she seemed interested and engaged with life and people.

Most of my suffering is not visible, like Sarah’s. But I’m afraid that some days, I let it define who I am and how I view the world. While suffering is a part of our human experience, Sarah makes me hopeful that maybe dignity can be, too, if we just let it bubble up to the surface and break open.