Recently, a friend who lives in California wrote me a heartbreaking note. His daughter had gone on a mission trip to a poor district in Mexico and discovered, among many needy people, a child who appeared to be abandoned and starving. The child became very attached to his daughter and called her “Mother.”
He mused, “How could this be happening only a few hours from my home?”, and he was tormented by the thought of his own helplessness.
It was hard to think what to say, but finally I replied,
I can only pray for (the child), but this story shows:
Compassion is a personal thing. You never felt compassion for the statistics of malnourished Mexican children, only about the one your daughter knows.
Your daughter helped her by showing her what a mother is really like. Even if she dies, she will have died knowing that she was loved. No one can take that away from her.
When Mother Teresa established her Home for the Dying, that was the point of it. Her sisters picked up people who had been dismissed from hospitals because they were dying, so that they might die within sight of a loving face.
Yes, we can and must do more, but we must start with the loving face and let the help grow from it.
I don’t know if that was the right thing to say or not. I try to put my money where my mouth is by giving tools and livestock in relatives’ names at Christmas through the World Vision program, but I have to accept that it may never reach that child or thousands like her.
Here is some research that demonstrates the one on one nature of compassion.
Also at The Mindful Hack:
New theory of brain function not in conflict with reality
Robots that can feel? Really? No, not really
Rate this post:
(No Ratings Yet)
Loading ...
Stumble It!
amfortas said,
We try very hard not to feel anything authentic.
“Even if she dies, she will have died knowing that she was loved”
Hah ! Momentarily. Will that make starving to death easier?
‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’. An aphorism used mainly by people who have experienced neither.
Does Love exist afterwards? If it was for a moment, a while, then taken away, does it become negated by the change; or remain? Just a memory of love. Taunting. It came: it went. Nothing lasts. But Love lasts, shirley?
What of the loving one’s love? Does that exist after the one who loved ‘moves on’. She has a home and a life to go back to. Was it authentic if it lasted only as long as a shooting star? Or was it a ’sentiment’, fleeting and insincere, arising and diminishing to nothing, unthought, unowned.
We talk of unconditional love. Freely given. No strings. Dead easy love: it isn’t ours. God knows, but we’d better not ask Him.
We know what our love is: we put conditions on it. Conditions related to us. You must be small and weak and I will love you. For a while. Until I am all ‘feel good’ed up. Or you must remain sexy and compliant to all my wishes and I will love you forever, but change and I am outta here. You must not make demands on me but accept me as I am. I can’t stay long.
And the little girl watches as the nice lady walks away and around the corner. Lovely lady. So kind and giving. Bye bye.
Another little girl watches as her daddy gets in the car with the big men and is driven away. “There, there, Darling. Mummy’s still here (for a while, until I can find a use for you. Maybe as a weapon to beat Daddy with)”.
He sits in his spot on the corner lost in his thoughts of his little girl, wherever she is. Every moment she is in his heart. There is a huge space there for her. The only warm place he is.
What do we tell ourselves about Love?
We need to understand that before we can understand compassion.
Understanding is hard. Inauthentic feeling is so much easier.
December 17, 2007 at 7:20 am