If there is any frustration with what she does with this
organization it is the fact that she only gets a few minutes at each delivery
to be able to connect with the people.
This is enough to bring a smile to their face, but it is not always
enough to bring to them true joy. This
frustration led my wife to consider volunteering at an organization that
provides hospice care for those who cannot afford it. This company gives significant training in
exchange for a number of volunteer hours.
More importantly, for my wife, they provide the opportunity to enter
into someone’s life at a deep level and bring joy to what is typically a difficult
situation. She is very excited about it.
Last night was her second training session. They were working to help sensitize the volunteers
to the reality of the life circumstances their clients find themselves
facing. One of the exercises was to take
five small pieces of paper and write down the five most important things to
them. These were not to be names of people, but categories like my spouse,
family, friends, faith community, the ability to see and read, good health,
financial security, living in my own home, or my life’s work. (It might actually be good for you to take a
moment and do this before you read on. Come back when you are done).
When they were finished they were told to turn them face
down on the desk and mix them up. The instructor
then came around and randomly picked one of the pieces of paper, removing it. The students were then asked, what would it
be like to have to adjust to not having this thing be part of your life anymore? When you think about the kinds of things that
were written on those pieces of paper, it is not hard to see how significant this
question is. (Maybe take just a few
moments to do this yourself. Pick one of
your pieces of paper and ponder what it would be like to lose this person,
ability or thing.)
After they sat with this awhile, the instructor then came
around and took another piece of paper from their desk, explaining that rarely
in life do we only experience one loss.
Often they come in multiples. Again
they were asked to consider what this compounded loss would be like. They were then asked the question, what would
enable you to cope with these kinds of loss in your life? (You might want to
take a moment an answer this for yourself.)
It was heavy stuff. It
is heavy because these are big losses to absorb. It is heavy because if you live long enough,
you are bound to experience some, if not most of these losses. It is heavy because you realize that when you
go to serve the people who sign up for the care this organization provides you
are stepping right into the middle of their experience of loss.
It was moving to listen to my wife talk about her experience
and what she was learning. As she did, however, I began to think about it and I
recognized that you do not have to wait until you are 85 to experience the kinds
of loss they about which they were exploring.
I have more than one friend who lost their spouse very early in
life. I know multiple people, who in the
middle of their career had it stripped from them. I have watched parents grieve over the death
of their child. I have seen spouses walk
away, people battle cancer, homes lost, bank accounts run dry, families become estranged,
parents pass, and the relationship with a faith community damaged beyond
repair. All these things happened to
people who were under 40 and decades away from being the average age of the people this
organization serves.
While the frequency of loss may seem to increase, as we grow
older, the chances are, most of the people you will encounter today will
already have experienced significant loss in their life. In fact, they may be going through it right
now.
The goal of this exercise was to help those being trained to
be sensitive to the people they will serve.
It makes it so much easier to be patient, kind, good, gentle, and self
controlled towards others when you understand the loss and grief they are
experiencing. This realization causes
compassion to well up inside and the desire to bring comfort to grow. For my
wife it causes her to feel privileged to be able to sit with them right in this place and hopefully be a safe place to learn to laugh and hope again.
It may be easier to assume people are in need of this kind
of compassion and comfort when they are old.
Given the fact that nearly everyone you will meet today has confronted
significant loss, what would it be to recognize this and allow compassion for them
to well up inside of us and the desire to bring comfort to grow? What would it be to see yourself as the
person chosen to bring into their loss care, hope and joy?
It strikes me that in seeing the opportunity to meet other’s
loss with compassion and comfort, we in a very real way are able to be an
active participant in redeeming the loss we have experienced in our own
lives. The empathy or experience our
loss brings enables us to connect with compassion to one another. While this does not erase the pain and grief
we have experienced, it does turn our hardship into a life-giving gift. It takes the isolation our loss may have
caused and turns it into connectedness.
It turns the ashes of our lives into beauty. In the process, we discover in the midst of
our own experience of loss the seeds for life, hope, and joy.
I encourage you to take a long look into the eyes of the people
you encounter today. Do you see in them
the haze of grief? When people do something
that bugs or irritates you today, can you look past their actions, sense their
loss, and offer them comfort? Would you be
willing to be an instrument of compassion that brings deep joy, even in the
hardships of life?
Recently my wife was talking to a friend about this issue of
compassion. Our friend, speaking from
both her observations and experience, simply stated, “There is never any
compassion.” This may be truer than we
would like to admit, but we can change all of that. It is possible. I have a sneaky suspicion to
be part of it would bring life and much joy.
I am all in, how about you?
Grace and peace to you from God our
Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts
us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the
comfort we ourselves receive from God. – 1 Corinthians 1:2-4
Your wife has always offered me compassion when we have talked about my losses and grief. She will be excellent in her new role. I'm in. I know from experience that many of have experienced loss and could use compassion. I don't know if I'll be as good as Tammie but I'm willing to try. Thanks for sharing Ron.
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