We Cannot Always See

Just because something is not visible does not mean it doesn’t exist. This applies to so many situations in life, and we simply can never be absolutely certain of what anyone is carrying?

I have a close family member who is a type one diabetic, and she manages her disease with abundant courage. It can often become too easy to forget that she is literally becoming a chemist and scientist of her body to monitor her blood sugar.  The highs, lows, are vital for her to remain vigilant with so that she can adjust the amount of insulin her body is requiring. Her health and well-being are depending upon her to be as educated and embodied as she can be. I’m never more aware of her reality than when we travel together, where her fingers often resemble a pin cushion with the need to periodically test. A reminder to inquire, to check in, to ask her how she is feeling and what she is noticing. From the outside, one would have no reason to suspect that she has been cohabitating with diabetes for over four decades, actually closer to five now.

I carry my losses with a sense of invisibility as well. Sometimes this is intentional because I simply do not possess the necessary bandwidth to clothe myself within it and wear my insides on the outside. Flying just beneath the radar can become a necessity at times, feeling like a needed and welcomed part of my ongoing healing. I’ll never forget a seat mate on an airline flight asking me the dreaded question of how many children I had? The one all bereaved parents have probed, practiced and tried to prepare for.  I uttered quietly, one, as I had used all my courage for the day. The entire rest of the flight I found myself apologizing silently to Douglas, feeling crushed that I had said such a thing. I hope with every fiber of my being that he understood…

Why this is so significant is that I understand there are memes, quotes, reminding us that we just can never know what another is carrying? We read them frequently, yet do we take the time to fully absorb, embody and to imagine what it might actually feel and be like? I recall my husband sharing about being asked to speak to someone at work who was having some conflicts with some of his co-workers. When he checked it out, the gentleman quietly shared that he had recently lost his son. The gratitude Richard felt that he had not stormed in demanding answers and an explanation. Rather he entered his space with a quiet curiosity, a genuine desire to listen, and an honest and heartfelt conversation followed.

Being reminded that I simply cannot know has felt pivotal. My mind can make up some of the craziest narratives which contain no truth, and it’s worth a necessary pause, checking in, and an inquiry. Even if we are not ready to share quite yet, the realization that someone is noticing and caring, is sometimes the only medicine that is required.

I’ll never forget noticing how someone on crutches or bandaged up was often the recipient of all kinds of solicitous attention. Realizing that I housed a heart that was in tatters, bleeding out, and in need of some serious spiritual ICU time that could not be seen, yet was hurting terribly. Just because what I carrying was not visible from the outside, did not mean that there was not some serious pain and heart break occurring within.

Kate Bowler, captures so beautifully within her words what it may feel like to be a sherpa in training, because each of us are. Learning how to carry that which we are struggling and challenged with. May we bow to one another allowing for an abundance of wiggle room and grace as we encounter our fellow sherpas on the path.

A Blessing

Blessed are you who have realized that life is hard. and it’s hard for everyone. Your awareness came at a cost. You lost something you can’t get back. You were diagnosed with chronic pain or a degenerative disease. your family fell apart and things have never been the same.

Blessed are you who gave up the myth that the good life is one of happiness, success, perfection. The life that looks beautiful on Facebook, but isn’t real. You who realize it is okay to not be okay. To not have a shiny life, because no one does.

Blessed are you who see things clearly, where struggle is everyone’s normal. You walk among the fellowship of the afflicted, a club no one wants to join.

And while this life isn’t shiny, it does come with superpowers. superpowers of ever-widening empathy and existential courage that get you back up after another fall.

And a deepened awe at the beauty and love that can be found amid life’s rubble. Like flowers that grow from the cracks in the sidewalk. These virtues blossom in you. And thank God for you.

Blessed are all of us who struggle, for we are in good company, and we’ll never walk alone.

** This blessing can be found in Good Enough: 40ish Devotionals for a Life of Imperfection