The wind blew sharp and coldly
Over barren rocks and railings
While we shivered on the platform
Watching, waiting for the train.
With eyes fixed on the distance,
Icy hands tucked into armpits,
Tingling feet like horses stomping,
While we stood waiting for the train.
In the stark, unfriendly silence,
Minutes slowly ticked to hours,
Snorts and mutters of impatience
At the train that never came.
So many moments squandered,
As life crept cat-like by us,
While we snorted and we muttered
At the train that never came.
Too often living is suspended
For the dreams of Something Better,
Dreams that keep us, watching, waiting,
Like the train that never came.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
...Because It Hurts
Warning: This post may be distressing to readers who have lost loved ones.
The hospital room was brightly lit and painted in warm neutral tones. The man fidgetting restlessly on the chair next to the bed wasn't in physical pain. He had been "made comfortable" with morphine. Michael had no reason to fear death because he had a firm faith in a resurrection to eternal life. However, in that pleasant and comfortable room he faced a terrible trial - and it was all in his own mind.
My friend was hallucinating, and in his hallucinations,* Michael could hear his loyal and devoted sister, Sarah, (who sat quietly by the bed) plotting in whispers with nurses to take possession of his generous inheritance from their parents. No words of comfort could convince Michael that his hallucinations were anything but stark reality. There was nothing that Sarah could say in her own defense. In a peaceful hospital room, Michael was tormented as if he were on a real-life battlefield. Although completely imagined, his agony was no less real than the actual physical pain being suffered by patients in neighbouring rooms.
Thankfully, Michael's suffering is now over, and I look forward to seeing him again, not only restored, but renewed as a spirit member of God's family at Christ's return. Meanwhile, I hope I will never forget the lesson of that and other, similar, experiences witnessing the suffering of others.
Unfortunately, that lesson is not cemented as firmly as I would like. I still catch myself responding with impatience when I hear others bemoaning a trial that seems "trivial" to me. However, I continue to remind myself that a trial hurts simply because... it hurts. Someone else's pain does not need to make sense to me in order for it to be significant to them... and vice versa.
As a parent, it can be easy to laugh off the situations that really upset my children. What I need to remember is that they have neither the capacity nor experience to cope calmly with some of the "little" hurts that come their way. When a friend calls them a silly name in a fit of childish frustration, it is easy for me to brush it off because I understand that in a few days they will be friends again, but for them the entire world is collapsing because they can't anticipate what the future might bring. For a child it hurts simply because... it hurts.
Sometimes when life completely overwhelms me, the Raamonster wants to know why I am so upset. In that moment, my conscious brain is incapable of processing and explaining a potent combination of fatigue, guilt, anger, frustration, disappointment, hurt... the list goes on. I expect him to understand that it hurts simply because... it hurts. God is helping me (over time) to extend that same grace toward others.
A few months ago I was summoned to our front yard by screams of pain and terror from Miss Curie. I ran outside expecting to find her lying in a pool of her own blood. I found her instead, paralysed with the pain of... a bee sting. I'm afraid I wasn't wildly sympathetic - annoyed would be a better word. Thinking about it later, though, I realised that Miss Curie has hardly ever hurt herself. She has never been sick for very long, and her worst injuries have been slight grazes, so in her experience a bee sting felt like a life-threatening injury. So I apologised to her for my harsh reaction... and reiterated that screaming is for life-or-death emergencies (including a bee sting if she's having trouble breathing, but then I guess she couldn't scream... ANYway...).
So, whatever causes another person to suffer - however trivial it may seem - is worthy of sympathy and compassion. Of course, discernment is warranted when dealing with those people who are unwilling to change themselves and always have a new complaint that is Someone Else's Fault. However, I know that I can certainly afford to err on the side of patient and gentle, especially with my own children!
*Please note that names and details have been changed to protect privacy
The hospital room was brightly lit and painted in warm neutral tones. The man fidgetting restlessly on the chair next to the bed wasn't in physical pain. He had been "made comfortable" with morphine. Michael had no reason to fear death because he had a firm faith in a resurrection to eternal life. However, in that pleasant and comfortable room he faced a terrible trial - and it was all in his own mind.
My friend was hallucinating, and in his hallucinations,* Michael could hear his loyal and devoted sister, Sarah, (who sat quietly by the bed) plotting in whispers with nurses to take possession of his generous inheritance from their parents. No words of comfort could convince Michael that his hallucinations were anything but stark reality. There was nothing that Sarah could say in her own defense. In a peaceful hospital room, Michael was tormented as if he were on a real-life battlefield. Although completely imagined, his agony was no less real than the actual physical pain being suffered by patients in neighbouring rooms.
Thankfully, Michael's suffering is now over, and I look forward to seeing him again, not only restored, but renewed as a spirit member of God's family at Christ's return. Meanwhile, I hope I will never forget the lesson of that and other, similar, experiences witnessing the suffering of others.
Unfortunately, that lesson is not cemented as firmly as I would like. I still catch myself responding with impatience when I hear others bemoaning a trial that seems "trivial" to me. However, I continue to remind myself that a trial hurts simply because... it hurts. Someone else's pain does not need to make sense to me in order for it to be significant to them... and vice versa.
As a parent, it can be easy to laugh off the situations that really upset my children. What I need to remember is that they have neither the capacity nor experience to cope calmly with some of the "little" hurts that come their way. When a friend calls them a silly name in a fit of childish frustration, it is easy for me to brush it off because I understand that in a few days they will be friends again, but for them the entire world is collapsing because they can't anticipate what the future might bring. For a child it hurts simply because... it hurts.
Sometimes when life completely overwhelms me, the Raamonster wants to know why I am so upset. In that moment, my conscious brain is incapable of processing and explaining a potent combination of fatigue, guilt, anger, frustration, disappointment, hurt... the list goes on. I expect him to understand that it hurts simply because... it hurts. God is helping me (over time) to extend that same grace toward others.
A few months ago I was summoned to our front yard by screams of pain and terror from Miss Curie. I ran outside expecting to find her lying in a pool of her own blood. I found her instead, paralysed with the pain of... a bee sting. I'm afraid I wasn't wildly sympathetic - annoyed would be a better word. Thinking about it later, though, I realised that Miss Curie has hardly ever hurt herself. She has never been sick for very long, and her worst injuries have been slight grazes, so in her experience a bee sting felt like a life-threatening injury. So I apologised to her for my harsh reaction... and reiterated that screaming is for life-or-death emergencies (including a bee sting if she's having trouble breathing, but then I guess she couldn't scream... ANYway...).
So, whatever causes another person to suffer - however trivial it may seem - is worthy of sympathy and compassion. Of course, discernment is warranted when dealing with those people who are unwilling to change themselves and always have a new complaint that is Someone Else's Fault. However, I know that I can certainly afford to err on the side of patient and gentle, especially with my own children!
*Please note that names and details have been changed to protect privacy
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