“Well, welcome to my world,” my mother-in-law was prone to say . . . at least until my oldest daughter said, “Nana, you always say that.”  Nana doesn’t say it as often anymore, though we know when the situation arises when she might.

As I was driving to pick my kids up from school yesterday, I thought of all of us on the road, each car filled with at least one person, each of us with our own stories, our dramas, each of us in our own little world.  I thought of me and my pain right now and the “welcome to my world” mantra.

But then there’s NPR’s continuing reporting on the earthquakes in China, and there’s a retired fellow in our community who has dedicated his life to peace and justice.  All of this is my world, too, right?  Even the other cars with their drivers and their stories — just because I don’t know the specifics, their energy is affecting my energy, too.

So I wonder if instead of saying “welcome to my world,” we should just greet each other with compassion, knowing that, yes, we understand each other’s suffering, that your suffering is mine, too, but that my love is your love, too.  Maybe we should reserve the welcome to the world for the newborn babe to whom we can sincerely say, “Welcome to our world,” and wonder at the gifts the babe brings to our lives.

We’re all in this together.  We all have gifts to share, and if we focus on one world instead of many little ego-filled ones, perhaps we’d all be better off.