I watched the parade—its beauty, colors, talent. Each storybook or fairytale came to life, one after another. There was little space between, but it was enough to take a breath and reset in anticipation of the next escape. As each one passed, it felt like being transported into different times, places, and stories, yet the surroundings were always the same.

The problems were the same—not the problems of the story but everyday issues. The transporting feeling involved what was in front of me, passing along, but eventually the parade stopped. We were still where we had started. What seemed magical in front of us didn’t infuse into our lives. But the temporary escape felt nice.

How do we find release and relief that is healthy and balanced? What are our daily coping strategies? We like to settle into what feels good, and while our choice might not be bad in and of itself, our default doesn’t necessarily equate to the approaches that will take us further. Sometimes comfort wins out; it rarely takes us anywhere. It might pause us and give us reprieve, but does it help in the long run? Does it help others around us? We don’t live in isolation, and it’s important to recognize how our coping strategies impact those we live with, connect with, work with, serve with.

For example, we don’t like to bring up the topics that bubble up pain for a loved one, but we might be the only one they’ll hear, potentially helping them consider next steps. We want to shut our door to a toxic work environment, focusing on only our work, but others are hurting, and it takes many of us to work through the difficult stumbling blocks to move forward a little. We don’t want to seem nosy when we notice our neighbors struggling, and we don’t want to make the extra effort after a long day, but they might need someone to ask how they are or deliver a meal.

Taking responsibility in our community is healthy for the community, and it’s healthy for us. We absolutely need to consider our own needs, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive. We move forward with others. A parade isn’t made up of one person, and I’ve never attended a parade all by myself. Each of us walk with or bring our own stuff, but we’re together as we invite the escape into our lives for an hour or so. We still have our own problems as we walk away, and that’s okay. Sometimes the escape or distraction allows just the right amount of space in which to breathe in the courage and faith to make the best next step. Our lives were never intended to be a parade route. But the everyday choices we make can be beautifully messy for ourselves and others.