Had lunch with a colleague today and he shared bits of his life story with me. Up till then, I had seen only the cheerful side of him. I've only been here for two weeks but he has been so welcoming and encouraging that it's been difficult to not be drawn to his uplifting ways.
Listening to his story though, I could almost feel the fragments of his heart in mine. It has been shattered. Now I'm sitting here, still slightly shaken and wondering, once again, as I often do, why some people's crosses are so much heavier than others.
Sometimes, the 'injustice' of the situation is so glaringly ironic. It's the people who try their best who often times get hurt the most. And those who stumble through their lives gripping onto hope and a faith in God (sometimes wavering through the sufferings that wrack them one after another) who get repeatedly disappointed.
Listening to his story (and having been through this RCIA process), I can easily point out the dozen instances where God was there in the words that were spoken and in the silent support of others, or the friend who cried with him in a corner of our office, amongst many others. And I pondered if I should point these out.
I didn't.
Because he knew what I knew. He saw Christ in his pain too. But when you're at such low depths and in so much pain that breathing in itself hurts, that recognition really doesn't mean much. What can I say to him?
"Have faith?" That, he has.
"This, too, shall pass?" I fear that's an empty promise.
In the end, I said, if you need to cry next time, call me. I'll cry with you. Because at that moment, I really did want to cry. Except, what right do I have to do that? When my own life has been so blessed and the right to that pain is not mine?
This was another obstacle that kept me from being officially baptized for a long time in the past - not knowing why the good suffer. Admittedly, to this day, I cannot say for sure that I understand the concept.
All I grasp is that God has his will. Things happen for a reason. I just wish there was more I can say or do to ease just a little of these sorrows.
They say healing is a process. But somehow, once your heart has been broken, for whatever reason, it never fully gets mended. Yes, sooner or later you find that you can breathe again. And you realize the world actually goes on, whether you choose to be a part of it or not. So you start building yourself and over time, you learn you can participate in this gift of Life again. But somehow, while picking up the pieces, there remains a gaping hole, a fragment of a once healthy and hopeful heart that is missing and sadly enough, it is the very piece that kept you blissfully naive, innocent and fully alive. No matter how small this fragment is, the emptiness caused by its absence leaves a vulnerability so real it leaves you a fear so sharp.
Does God hold that essential piece? If so, I really hope he'll keep it close with him. Because just maybe, it is better left with him than with us. And for the rest of us, maybe it's all we can do to lend one another our own hearts when we need courage to weather the storms through or for those as fortunate as me, to cry for others' pain because we have none.
One Harry Hellman wrote this beautifully:
"Let's go back to the weather. Most days you don't notice any until you fall into love, and/or sin, and then you see the clouds and stare holes into heaven, looking for Christ when he's really at your shoulder looking for you and in such great shape, you'd never believe what he's been through.
Then before you know how it happened, it's July again or August and you have time to do what you should have been doing all your life, sitting or walking on the grass in bare feet and loving.
Then you're all petals once more, and tendrils till the storm breaks your heart.
And the biggest piece goes to heaven, and to hell with the weather."
Joyce
