Profound Gifts

To the woman at the doctor’s office this afternoon that I feel I didn’t adequately greet. I tried but it was a bit awkward right? You shared with the secretary, who was quite rude and condescending towards you, that your mother had just passed yesterday. She was not empathetic. You simply requested to talk with the doctor about test results that had not been explained. You calmly, yet through tears, suggested that you don’t need anything else to cause stress right now, that you can hardly handle the news from yesterday. I’m proud of you for defending your feelings. I’m encouraged for the way you held your strength and poise. I pray that I would one day be the strong woman you showed yourself to be today. You were asked to sit down and wait for the doctor to see you. We caught eyes in the waiting area. You were a mess of tissues catching smudged mascara, but much more composed than I would’ve been 6 months ago when my mom passed. Your partner put his arm around you to comfort you. I looked at you and mouthed the words, “I’m so sorry!” You mouthed back, “Thank you.” And began to cry more. I wished you could’ve seen my tears and known that I too was feeling your frustration, anxiety, sadness and a slew of other emotions. I cried right there with you. And it was a revelation for me. I thought to myself, “Yes, this is ok that I feel for total strangers in this way. It’s ok that I feel for humanity in such an intense and intimate way. I wished I had gone to sit close to you and took your hand in mine. I would’ve looked into your eyes and told you how much it’s ok to feel this way, how normal it is. I would’ve expressed my sorrow for your mom’s passing. I would’ve told you that I’m sure she was a special person. I would’ve told you that I’d like to pray for peace and comfort for you. I would’ve prayed with you right then and there. I wish I would’ve just taken that step outside my comfort place.
So, I didn’t. I just mouthed those few words and you were grateful, and in great pain. I wasn’t thinking about taking away the pain, rather I was wanting to feel it with you. You went back to talk with the doctor. I purposefully moved to occupy your seat. I wanted to feel the energy there. I sat and said a prayer for you. I felt Gods presence and I hoped that the talk with the doctor went well. When you came out i was even more impressed with what happened next. You approached the secretary and very calmly with as much poise as before gave her a bit of advice. Your tears subsided for that brief time. You spoke eloquently and she responded with sincere sorrow and apologized. You followed your partner to the door, and made eye contact with me. I whispered, “God bless you.” I said it about 3 times because i had no other words. I think a tear slipped out of my eye at that point. I hoped I could muster up some other encouraging statement, but nothing came to mind. You said thank you and gave a smile. Then you left through the door. I cried again and literally held myself back from weeping.
My biggest regret from that experience is not physically touching this woman. I desperately wanted to even just hold her hand, and if she let me I would’ve fully embraced her with a hug. As I write I am crying for this person. I am hurting. This is my sister, a child of the living Father. The exchange I encountered today has taken me to a new level of an empathetic posture, which if I embrace, could propel me to a new dimension or intimacy toward humanity. I feel God has always given me the gift of empathy and love for humanity, but now I believe that He has spoken loud and clear. “It’s ok, my child,” He says. “I have chosen you for such a time as this.” Praise be to God for the gifts he has bestowed upon each one of His children!

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