I'm fine, thanks...

I guess this is as good a place as any to start.

How many times have you answered, "I'm fine, thanks," when someone asked you how you were doing? Countless, if you're anything like me. In the South, especially, we're trained from birth to answer that way. No one wants to hear us go on about our aches and pains, or air our dirty laundry about the family, the in-laws, trouble at the workplace. So we put on our best smile, square off our shoulders and say, "I'm fine." And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Have you ever stopped to ponder how many of those "I'm fine's" are actually covering something much more serious? It could be illness recently diagnosed, illness suspected, illness in a family member, death of a loved one, a broken heart, a broken marriage, a troubled child, a troubled friend, loss of a job, money trouble. Each of us, at one time or another, carries a burden that we try to keep hidden from the world. A burden that, during the darkest moments, threatens to crush our very spirit. Yet we bravely plod on, and smile and say "I'm fine." We say "I'm fine" when all we really want to do is throw a tantrum, or cry, or pout, or just sit down and say "I give up." A testament to the human spirit prevailing.

I think, though, that sometimes those losses just need to be acknowledged, even if it is in the smallest, unspoken way. Whatever it is that someone is going through is a great loss to that person at that time in his or her life. "It" deserves attention, conscious or subconscious. So the next time you run into an acquaintance and spout out the obligatory "how are you," pay attention. Look into the person's eyes, give them a genuine smile, a pat on the arm. Hold the door, hold the elevator, give up your seat, buy their coffee. You never know when the smallest gesture could make all the difference to the person masking a dark hour with "I'm fine."

The Dalai Lama put it best. "Be kind whenever possible. It's always possible."

Until