With His stripes we are healed
Today I (re)learned a very valuable lesson about what it means to really mourn with someone--to really feel with them, to support them, to encourage them, and to love them through a challenging moment in life.
I'll start with some background information.
This week has been a pretty terrible week in my life, to put it bluntly. Despite the pain, I've felt a lot of peace though (won't say joy, but I do thank God for the peace amidst the storm). I had a shift at work this morning that I was kind of dreading because I was feeling terrible, and the thought of going to immerse myself in others' pain for eight hours seemed too much to handle. But, when the work schedule calls, I must obey. So I trudged to work at 6 am with frustration, sadness, and (if I'm being totally honest) a bit of anger stewing in my heart. I sped through the green lights dreaming of the moment I would return through them on my way home.
While at work, I ran in and out of rooms helping people. Rub lotion on my feet, give me a bath, feed me breakfast, put me in my wheelchair, bring me my medications, help me dress, refill my water jug, put a pillow under my left shoulder... I still felt my heavy sadness, but serving them did help me to stop thinking so selfishly.
At about hour 6 of my 8 hour shift, a man returned to his room from playing a game with other residents. This man has high functioning down-syndrome, with a truly kind, gentle soul. He recently had a horrifying procedure done, the reason for his stay in the rehab center. Despite his struggles, he seemed full of deep faith and genuine kindness. He called me into his room and explained how distraught he was over the rude actions of another resident during the game. His concerns seemed petty at first, but as I continued to listen, my heart was softened. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and genuine sadness in his voice, desperately seeking for someone to empathize with him, to understand his pain and in turn provide comfort and hope for the future. I hugged him, yearning to soften his pain just as I yearned for someone to soften mine. His current situation is really rough, and seeing his pain reminded me how grateful I need to be for my life. He reminded me how, as a disciple of Christ, I promise every week to comfort those in need of comfort. I promise every week to mourn with those who mourn, genuinely and deeply.
We hugged for what seemed like a long time. In reality, it was likely a few seconds. But in that time, my burdens were made lighter. I hope his were, too. The process of mourning is a very normal thing, an integral part of human existence I think. Mourning with others helps put life into perspective; it encourages open-mindedness, and broadens our focus from ourselves to others. Most importantly, it shifts our focus from the here-and-now to things of eternal significance.
We are all seeking for someone to mourn with us, to understand us, to love us. As humans, we are all deeply flawed, with a sincere yearning to belong and feel understood. I'm so grateful for friends and family who patiently and gently have mourned with me at different points in my life; deep bonds are formed from the vulnerability of mutual mourning.
I am also grateful for Jesus Christ, the one who mourns with us all more deeply than any other can. "Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows . . . He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed" (Isaiah 53).
I hope we can all carry a little more love, kindness, and understanding in our hearts, everywhere we go. I hope we can assume the best of others, and doubt the worst. I hope we can all slow down and gently and patiently listen to others, feel others, and comfort others in their times of sadness and grief--regardless of what their struggle is. I hope I can do the same, on this life-long journey to become a true disciple of Christ.
I'll start with some background information.
This week has been a pretty terrible week in my life, to put it bluntly. Despite the pain, I've felt a lot of peace though (won't say joy, but I do thank God for the peace amidst the storm). I had a shift at work this morning that I was kind of dreading because I was feeling terrible, and the thought of going to immerse myself in others' pain for eight hours seemed too much to handle. But, when the work schedule calls, I must obey. So I trudged to work at 6 am with frustration, sadness, and (if I'm being totally honest) a bit of anger stewing in my heart. I sped through the green lights dreaming of the moment I would return through them on my way home.
While at work, I ran in and out of rooms helping people. Rub lotion on my feet, give me a bath, feed me breakfast, put me in my wheelchair, bring me my medications, help me dress, refill my water jug, put a pillow under my left shoulder... I still felt my heavy sadness, but serving them did help me to stop thinking so selfishly.
At about hour 6 of my 8 hour shift, a man returned to his room from playing a game with other residents. This man has high functioning down-syndrome, with a truly kind, gentle soul. He recently had a horrifying procedure done, the reason for his stay in the rehab center. Despite his struggles, he seemed full of deep faith and genuine kindness. He called me into his room and explained how distraught he was over the rude actions of another resident during the game. His concerns seemed petty at first, but as I continued to listen, my heart was softened. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and genuine sadness in his voice, desperately seeking for someone to empathize with him, to understand his pain and in turn provide comfort and hope for the future. I hugged him, yearning to soften his pain just as I yearned for someone to soften mine. His current situation is really rough, and seeing his pain reminded me how grateful I need to be for my life. He reminded me how, as a disciple of Christ, I promise every week to comfort those in need of comfort. I promise every week to mourn with those who mourn, genuinely and deeply.
We hugged for what seemed like a long time. In reality, it was likely a few seconds. But in that time, my burdens were made lighter. I hope his were, too. The process of mourning is a very normal thing, an integral part of human existence I think. Mourning with others helps put life into perspective; it encourages open-mindedness, and broadens our focus from ourselves to others. Most importantly, it shifts our focus from the here-and-now to things of eternal significance.
We are all seeking for someone to mourn with us, to understand us, to love us. As humans, we are all deeply flawed, with a sincere yearning to belong and feel understood. I'm so grateful for friends and family who patiently and gently have mourned with me at different points in my life; deep bonds are formed from the vulnerability of mutual mourning.
I am also grateful for Jesus Christ, the one who mourns with us all more deeply than any other can. "Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows . . . He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed" (Isaiah 53).
I hope we can all carry a little more love, kindness, and understanding in our hearts, everywhere we go. I hope we can assume the best of others, and doubt the worst. I hope we can all slow down and gently and patiently listen to others, feel others, and comfort others in their times of sadness and grief--regardless of what their struggle is. I hope I can do the same, on this life-long journey to become a true disciple of Christ.
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