Extending Compassion
"Truly, it is in the darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow, then the light is nearest of all to us." ~ Meister Eckhart
"Now I understand that my very brokenness is my connection to the unbroken whole. I have nothing to hide or defend; I offer the pain of my wounds and the fragility of my brokenness. The door of my heart is wide open; this is the door of compassion for myself and the world. I have opened my heart to my own suffering, and now I am ready to keep my heart open to the world's suffering. I realize that compassion is a living circle starting with myself and now going out to meet the world."
~Circle of Compassion by Gail Straub
Although the attack happened over 2 years ago, I am still grappling with its effects today. I spent the first year in a decisive effort to "get my life back". I went at it like a line backer with his head down barreling full speed ahead. I was going to get there. One day my daughter, Erin, told me that I was going at this like someone one who ran full force into a snowdrift to get to the other side and suggested that it might be easier to get a shovel and start slowly digging away instead. It was so painful to accept that my life was forever changed but slowly the light began to dawn and I began to see it clearly. When I accepted that life would never be the same, my suffering instantly faded. All that I was doing was accepting what is but that knowledge changed everything.
In the last year, I have found myself often frustrated that I am so emotional and, at times, fearful. Previously, I thought of myself as scrappy and fearless not some weepy worrier but, these days, I often cry without warning and feel as if I am"hanging out all over." I have lamented these changes and strived to get back to my former "strong" self. I did not realize that it was just another thread of the fabric of my former life that I was hanging onto.
I am a supervisor at a nursing and rahab facility. Most days we admit one or more new residents to the facility. Some come for rehabilitation and some come to stay long term. It is usually a very difficult transition for the person and for the family, no matter what the plan is. No one wants to be in a Nursing Home! In the 9 years that I have worked at Heather Knoll, I have admitted a lot of residents. My own brother was a resident there for 3 1/2 years. Like anyone that has ever been a nurse, I have taken care of a lot of people who are sick and scared and I have encouraged and comforted many families. What has changed is my ability (or should I say inability) to do this without feeling overwhelmed at times with emotion. In other words, I cry. I am not saying that I never cried before but now there are times when my heart literally breaks for them. I feel their fear and pain... I hurt with them. I remember what it feels like to be helpless, frustrated and hurting. I know that my family suffered greatly when I was in the hospital and that hurts too.
It has become quite clear that I will never be the same. I am broken and fragile and very very real. The shell that protected this heart is now paper thin with many tears but that is not so bad. I have learned through my own suffering that I was most "helped" by the people who could be fully present and feel the pain with me. That's all that any of us need- the loving presence of another. That is the salve that soothes the wounds and helps to heal our brokenness. It is the gift that gives us hope and lights our way to the wholeness that we seek. That is the gift of compassion that we give first to ourselves and, only then, can we extend true compassion to the world.
"Now I understand that my very brokenness is my connection to the unbroken whole. I have nothing to hide or defend; I offer the pain of my wounds and the fragility of my brokenness. The door of my heart is wide open; this is the door of compassion for myself and the world. I have opened my heart to my own suffering, and now I am ready to keep my heart open to the world's suffering. I realize that compassion is a living circle starting with myself and now going out to meet the world."
~Circle of Compassion by Gail Straub
Although the attack happened over 2 years ago, I am still grappling with its effects today. I spent the first year in a decisive effort to "get my life back". I went at it like a line backer with his head down barreling full speed ahead. I was going to get there. One day my daughter, Erin, told me that I was going at this like someone one who ran full force into a snowdrift to get to the other side and suggested that it might be easier to get a shovel and start slowly digging away instead. It was so painful to accept that my life was forever changed but slowly the light began to dawn and I began to see it clearly. When I accepted that life would never be the same, my suffering instantly faded. All that I was doing was accepting what is but that knowledge changed everything.
In the last year, I have found myself often frustrated that I am so emotional and, at times, fearful. Previously, I thought of myself as scrappy and fearless not some weepy worrier but, these days, I often cry without warning and feel as if I am"hanging out all over." I have lamented these changes and strived to get back to my former "strong" self. I did not realize that it was just another thread of the fabric of my former life that I was hanging onto.
I am a supervisor at a nursing and rahab facility. Most days we admit one or more new residents to the facility. Some come for rehabilitation and some come to stay long term. It is usually a very difficult transition for the person and for the family, no matter what the plan is. No one wants to be in a Nursing Home! In the 9 years that I have worked at Heather Knoll, I have admitted a lot of residents. My own brother was a resident there for 3 1/2 years. Like anyone that has ever been a nurse, I have taken care of a lot of people who are sick and scared and I have encouraged and comforted many families. What has changed is my ability (or should I say inability) to do this without feeling overwhelmed at times with emotion. In other words, I cry. I am not saying that I never cried before but now there are times when my heart literally breaks for them. I feel their fear and pain... I hurt with them. I remember what it feels like to be helpless, frustrated and hurting. I know that my family suffered greatly when I was in the hospital and that hurts too.
It has become quite clear that I will never be the same. I am broken and fragile and very very real. The shell that protected this heart is now paper thin with many tears but that is not so bad. I have learned through my own suffering that I was most "helped" by the people who could be fully present and feel the pain with me. That's all that any of us need- the loving presence of another. That is the salve that soothes the wounds and helps to heal our brokenness. It is the gift that gives us hope and lights our way to the wholeness that we seek. That is the gift of compassion that we give first to ourselves and, only then, can we extend true compassion to the world.
posted by Becky Spellman Waltz at 2:21 PM
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