My father is a clinical psychologist. An entire lifetime has been spent listening to the consequences of someone's poor choices. And now that he has retired, he serves the missionaries in nine different countries --still listening to worries, concerns, and tragic stories.
My mother, as a visiting teacher, came regularly with dinner, provided childcare, and nursing care for a ward member as he died. I watched her, as a Relief Society president, wrap her arms warmly around each elderly sister as they entered the RS room. She was genuinely concerned if one didn't show.
I, on the other hand, cannot seem to pull off Recess Duty at the school. I see a child over in the corner by himself...I worry. I stew. Those little girls aren't sharing the swings--another friend is being excluded because of it. Sigh. I make a turn-taking suggest to the swinging pair. But the other child has left. She's hoping to find another group to belong to before the bell rings.
I see a Reading Rainbow episode about children whose parent is in prison--and I think I might sink with the weight that sweeps over me. Those children deserve to be loved and taken care of.
I watch as a newly divorced mother of 6 weeps as the ward shows up and begins to weed, rake, mow, sweep, for FHE. After tucking in the baby and Millie, I return for stray bishops, boys, and tools -- they are just loading her sons in with mine for a treasured "trip to the dump." The excitement is evident on little Drew's face. I smile, wish them a happy trip (knowing that some sort of treat will follow, and that the hour will be late when they return). As I drive off, listening to All Things Bright and Beautiful by James Herriott, I cry. There are so many struggles ahead for those little neighbors...will they make it?
Mourning with those that mourn...my innate sense of this sometimes creates an almost claustrophobic feeling. Am I doing any good in my praying, stewing, and ache-ing? Sometimes I try to protect myself --in an effort to be UN-aware. That can't be all that good either.
What a dilemma and distraction it is to be in a frequent dither.
4 comments:
I know what you mean. The need to fix the "wrongs" of this world can be overwhelming. You have a caring heart, so gird up your loins and take one day and one problem at a time. I sure do miss you.
(this is susie from russ's account) stef, yes I couldn't have said it better myself. I feel the same way. That's the reason I am not doing the 'counseling-type' jobs anymore. I loved those I served so deeply and wanted them to be happy so much that it hurt and I took it home with me way too much. I hope to do more work like that someday, if not professionally--in the church maybe, because I do love it. I am still battling with the balance though. I've always felt that social workers and psychologist must be a special breed.
Oh Stef. I am with you 100%. This is a beautiful post and you are such a beautiful person. You absolutely DO lift others' burdens and make lives better. It is hard because it is never DONE. Even if you do help someone, someone else is suffering. But you, Stef, are one of the very best.
One of the best what, Jayne? Sufferers? If so, Repit, you're in a good place. The cost to you is heavy, but, as I've said before, you're experiencing, and learning...living the real stuff. There was Another who mourned with those that mourn. And the cost was heavy to Him too. So if that's the path you're on with that ache-y brake-y heart, I'd have to say you're in good company.
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