“I want to suffer so that I may love.” ―
The past few days I have sat with people and heard some really terrible stories about loss, fear, death, grief, long-term suffering and loneliness. All at once. I would turn the corner and someone else would be there sitting across from me, sending me a text, sharing bad news over the phone or just opening up during a walk.
My colleagues and I have our students back this year. They seem so relieved to be back in person. But there are many who carry extra burdens. Families still hurt and struggle together. You can see it in the eyes peering over the masks. While I’m so happy to be in the classroom, there’s a shadow looming. It hasn’t been chased away yet.
When the pandemic struck and we were locked away at home, I started putting up post-it notes with names on them. I wanted to remind myself about other people who I frequently thought about – I didn’t want the current raging storm to distract me from thinking about other people who were bearing burdens in life. I’m reminded to pray, to send a note, to think past my own circumstances.
I’ve had this prayer by Thomas Merton posted for a long time. After the past couple of days, it seems like a helpful and healthy prayer and meditation. I’m reading it slowly and letting it soak in as I think about each person who’s crossed my path lately. I’d like to find a way to help. Sometimes, just listening and suffering together is enough.
My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though
I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.