I used to think the world looked like this:
The world was divided into two sets — those who had suffered and those who hadn’t.
I was well aware of suffering and just as aware that, by some unmerited and perhaps arbitrary determinant, I had somehow managed to dodge it.
Don’t get me wrong – life wasn’t perfect by any means. Dan and I had gone through rough patches in our marriage, real job disappointments and the grief of miscarriages.
We had made it through strenuous financial trials – one season we felt nearly sucked dry financially and physically as we managed five kids 8 years old and under and one crisis after another with two rental houses.
But June 17, 2011 forever altered my circles.
If the world was divided into two sets, we were now smack in the middle of the circle of suffering:
I had joined a new club. Nobody asks to be in this kind of club but once you’re in, you realize how many are a part and the commonalities you all share.
Something odd happened to the way I saw people after Dan died. I noticed it immediately – as soon as friends and neighbors and family descended into the house, sharing hugs and tears and words.
I was keenly aware that I was seeing people altogether different than I had ever seen them before.
As I walked through the duties of those first few days with a shattered heart and a life irreparably broken, grieving for an ache I could never fix for my kids, I saw people with eyes of absolute compassion.
There was not even a hint of judgment, of sizing up who they were or what they’d done. Every one of us comes with baggage – small or big things that inform who we are and sometimes why we’re dealing with an issue.
But that baggage was now irrelevant as I saw people only through a lens of love.
I imagined this was how Jesus saw me – knowing full well who I was with my frailties and faults and yet seeing me only with eyes of love.
Maybe that’s what shock does to a person. But it seemed this new perception was a byproduct of God’s strong presence palpably covering me.
I wanted to keep those eyes forever.
Maybe because of my own brokenness, people shared openly about their own suffering. I began to learn of stories and struggles that had always been there, unspoken beneath everyday smiles.
And the more I learned, the more this circle of broken grew, the more I realized that my worldview had been wrong.
There weren’t two separate circles, dividing those who suffered and those who had somehow missed it.
Rather, the circles looked like this:
We are all part of one large circle.
I am broken, you are broken, we are all broken.
I think mathematicians call it a universal set. Suffering and struggle are universal.
It may look different for each of us and maybe there are differing degrees (though do we really want to compare?) but no one is immune.
Some are right now in a battle for their life. Some standby helplessly watching another battle for his life.
Some are suffering a deeply broken heart, a broken marriage, a crushed dream.
Some are suffering deep regret; some are battling deep darkness.
Some will suffer chronically; others will scab over but forever carry battle wounds.
Scratch just below the surface in any conversation with anyone you meet and you will find that everyone has a struggle.
My uncle has a custom at restaurants that we’ve started in our family. After the waitress has finished taking our food order, we tell her we’re about to pray and ask whether there’s anything we can pray for her. Most servers seem truly touched that we would care about them and I’m amazed at the deep, personal needs often shared.
It’s really hard to get annoyed at slow service or a missed side item when the waitress has just vulnerably shared her need and you’ve prayed for her.
And that’s the thing – if we used our eyes of compassion, we would approach the people in our lives so differently.
- We would give the benefit of the doubt.
- We would be quick with encouragement.
- We wouldn’t expect so much.
- We would be gentle and kind with our words.
- We would give grace liberally for things that don’t really matter.
Because we are all of us in the club of broken.
And as long as we’ve been invited, let’s mine the treasures here. Let’s take the gift of this club of broken and look past all the frailties and faults and see each other with eyes of compassion.
Amen….
There is another blog I read written by a new ‘widow’ perhaps you two can meet and share matters of the heart in a way others cannot relate. I will see if I can find her ‘blog’ for you.
I would love that, Sharon. Thank you.
https://stacysanchez.wordpress.com/2016/06/04/the-swirling-of-time/
Thank you, Sharon.
hope you can connect up with her, just trying to help.
Amen! Thank you Lisa!
This is sooo very true:).
When I was widowed 10 years ago there were so many people asking what could they do to help and I didn’t know what to tell them. I had 2 young sons and I felt like I couldn’t grieve. I felt like if I fell apart I would shatter into a million pieces. Then what would happen to my sons? By the time my sons were grown I had missed my chance to grieve. It was like to much time had passed. I should be “over it” and it was ” time to get on with my life”. Now my health has declined, my sons live in another state, those friends are nowhere to be found and I am in limbo.
Brenda,
I’m so sorry for the pain you’re going through! I know God is faithful to help us through it as I can testify through very painful situations in my own life. I’m praying for you right now!
But you, Sovereign Lord, help me for your name’s sake ; out of the goodness of your love, deliver me. For I am poor and needy, and my heart is wounded within me.
Psalm 109:21-22
I’m praying for you now as well, Brenda, that you will see the loving-kindness of God all around you. 💗
Dear Brenda – it is never too late. Give yourself permission to grieve. Say, for example, for the next 10 days I am going to grieve my loss . . . cry, scream, whatever it takes. At the end of those 10 days, say, “Thank You, Jesus” then accept it is time to move on. You will not be alone. Get yourself a copy of the poem “Footprints” that talks about Jesus carrying us through the tough times. Then “count your blessings, name them one by one” and you will move forward one day at a time. I am praying for you.
What a bitter/sweet post, Lisa. My heart aches for the bitter reality you and your children have to live day after day. Yet, as I read your posting, God is so evident as the sweet remedy. May God keep you close, gently guiding you with His Spirit in the Mighty Name of Jesus.
Lisa – thank you for your sharing today on the subject of brokenness.. You are so right, I am broken, you are broken, we are all broken, just in different ways and to different extents, but broken none-the-less. Thank you for sharing your story, something that I wasn’t expecting when I began reading, and I am so sorry for your loss, but so glad that you shared your journey through the process. I love how God gave you eyes to see things differently than you had before. By the way, I absolutely love the new tradition of asking the waitress/waiter for their prayer needs. Thanks for stopping by my site today as well. Blessings
Good to connect with you, Debbie.
I wholeheartedly embrace this, Lisa. Yes, we are all broken. Years ago I prayed that God would use my hurt to tenderize my heart. And I’m going to steal that restaurant prayer tradition! I love that.
You do have a tender heart, Allison! God is answering. 🙂
When Greg recently asked to pray for our waitress, she literally had to walk away to compose herself. She was overwhelmed with gratitude. We just never know what someone is going through. Everyone truly has a “story.”
Love you Lisa! I’m always so blessed by your post😘
We don’t Karen and those little insights are good reminders for us!
Beautiful, simply beautiful. June 17 is approaching. Hugs, my friend. Loads of hugs and love coming your way.
It is. Always around Father’s Day where we both remember with sadness all that we’re missing and remember with gratefulness what a great man we had. <3
I remember the day we had lunch, you asking our waitress whether you could pray her. I was so touched. Yes, we are all broken people sharing in the fellowship of suffering.
xoxo
We are, friend.
I just cannot even imagine what you have gone through. Praying now that God will continue to surround you with His strong presence and use you to encourage many.
Thank you, Betsy.
It took me awhile to look at others through eyes of love – now I can and thankful. Good words for sure.
<3 to you Holly.
I’m a divorce, not a widow. But the pain I endured was horrific. I was mentally unwell, so my ex and I decided that our 3 children stay with him. Oh gosh….the pain of hearing my kids cry down the phone,pleading with me to come back. Being down the street and hearing a little girl yell out ‘mummy’, made me automatically turn and go to answer…only to remember my kids weren’t with me anymore.
9 years later and having been introduced to the real Jesus (not Catholic jesus) and having God heal the most broken parts of me….my eldest son lives with me now, my middle son wants to and my daughter has two mum’s now.
I have my days, but Holy Spirit is my constant companion now. I have a good relationship with my ex husband, to the point I support him when he has a hard time with his partner.
All I can say is God is so loving and so gentle….my life is still not easy (middle son has mental health issues) and my kids step mum has not always been nice to my boys.
But through God, I am forgiving kids step mum, and leaning into God more, for He is my strength.
What a hard road, Kylie. Knowing Jesus is the start of all healing….He who began a good work in you will carry it onto completion until the day of Christ Jesus.
simply beautiful – just like you
Right back at you, Amanda.
Lisa, this is so beautiful and so very true! If we kept this in mind all of the time, imagine what beautiful compassion and love would be shared with one another! Thank you for sharing with us on the Art of Home-Making Mondays at Strangers & Pilgrims on Earth!
Once again Lisa you have hit a button. Thanks for sharing your wonderful insight God has blessed you with. I am forever grateful our paths crossed.
I am as well, Annette. Xoxo