I have been thinking about compassion lately. What does it mean to be compassionate? For whom do we have compassion? Is it easier to have compassion in some circumstances than others? I am certain that we can train ourselves to act more compassionately. But can we train ourselves to think and feel and believe with more compassion? My general rule is to "act as if" whatever I want to accomplish or be or feel, and eventually it becomes real. So my guess is that yes, we can train ourselves to become more compassionate.
While I was thinking about compassion, a huge tsunami ravaged parts of Japan. While watching the news footage, it was difficult to truly comprehend that this was not special effects for a movie, but that a real tragedy of this magnitude had happened. A thought about my own husband, children and our beloved grandson quickly brought the feelings of compassion from a remote acknowlegement to a much deeper level of compassion. While I cannot imagine the absolute horror of survival there in the aftermath, I can certainly imagine and have empathy for the loss of families, the fear of not knowing how or where your loved ones are, and the loss of everything you have known.
Soon thereafter, my father learned that his last surviving brother had been diagnosed with cancer. My father quickly made arrangements to fly across the country to "say goodbye" to his brother. How does one get on a plane knowing it is likely the last time one will see a loved one? What must it be like to lose the last remaining person from your original family (parents, siblings)? I feel so sad for my uncle, his daughter, and also for my father. So much loss and grief, and yet also compassion and caring and loving efforts made to reach out to one another.
Last week, Floyd Michael's brother in law, suddenly became ill and was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm. He is in intensive care. He had his second surgery today. One day life was as normal, and then it wasn't. We are here, and they are there. How is it that your heart can yearn to be with loved ones who are undergoing such a trial, yet you cannot go. His wife keeps the extended family updated regularly. Shirley calls us regularly with updates. They have compassion on us, even in their time of such trial. How grateful we are for that. We truly think about them nearly constantly throughout the day. Is compassion feeling bad that others are suffering? Is it wishing you could do ANYTHING at all to help? Is it wishing you could take some of the pain on yourself if only you could spare them that?
Compassion and helping hands go so well together. Taking in dinner, watching small children, cleaning a house, doing laundry, sitting with family members so they are not alone. The small acts we sometimes think aren't enough, or don't really mean much, are an outward manifestation of our compassion. And they do help. It is hard to sit with your compassion when you can't physically reach out to those who are hurting.
One of my life lessons about compassion came long ago, after Devin was born prematurely and had so many health crises. Many, many people showed great compassion for our family during that time. They didn't just bring meals, they shared stories. They provided rides, and provided encouragement. They did not only take care of children, they loved them during a scary time.
The first big lesson I learned was to get over the notion that someone else will do it, or that they would do it better, or they would know what to say. Just DO IT. Trust that your good intentions will suffice when words are hard to come by. Believe that the person will hear what is in your heart, no matter that you can't find the just-right words for the moment.
The second was that if you have something nice to say to someone, say it. Not just to other people, but to them. They don't magically know how well you like them, or what a wonderful mother you think they are, etc. Don't waste a kind thought by not sharing it. That sounds so trite, but I really do believe it.
The third, and perhaps most powerful lesson I learned was that it is easy to be compassionate in the heat of the moment. But to sustain that compassion over time, when the crisis lasts longer than a few weeks, or even a few months, takes a kind of love and caring that is desperately needed when a trial is ongoing or when trials multiply. Even a phone call, months down the road, can go a long way toward helping someone know you are thinking of them, that you know they are still struggling, and that they are not forgotten.
I read an article recently on compassion. It asked if we showed compassion toward our children. It was an interesting article, and an interesting point. I am still pondering that one.
