02 Jul Dandelion Bookmarks
I’m sitting in a coffee shop working on slides for an upcoming workshop about collaborative patient education when the woman at the next table opens a small booklet.
A fresh dandelion slips from between the pages and lands in her lap. The petals are still bright and open, as though it had been picked only recently.
She plucks it from her lap, smooths one of the tiny yellow petals with her thumb, and carefully tucks it back inside.
When she turns the booklet over, I catch a glimpse of the cover. The title includes the words understanding and diagnosis and treatment.
I glance over the top of my laptop, my eyes moving from the booklet to the dandelion and back again, and then down at my screen.
All morning, I had been thinking about the idea that the people we help are not empty vessels waiting to be filled with all the information and advice we can offer.
People come to us already carrying questions, experiences, wisdom, and hopes of their own.
There are experiences in life that send people searching for answers. Being newly diagnosed. Starting a new treatment. Waiting to learn what comes next. During those times, people often read everything they can get their hands on. They ask questions. They do their best to make sense of what is happening and what to expect.
The booklet was there to prepare her for what might come next.
And yet she had chosen to mark her place with a symbol of possibility.
A wish tucked between the pages.
Hope is something like that. It isn’t something we hand to people. More often, it is something they already carry.
Perhaps part of our work in helping people is to notice the dandelions.
When I get home, I add a slide to my presentation. It may be the most important one.