My Confession: Compassion & Gratitude

Monday, March 25, 2013

Sometimes I lack compassion. This may be like a slap in the face to read (get ready), but I never have truly hurt when I read stories about sick children. I mean, don't get me wrong. Stories about sick kids are beyond sad and horrible, and those people always have my prayers, but I would be much more apt to break down and grieve if I was reading a story about a sick or struggling stray animal. Sick, right? I don't know why. My compassion for humankind has always been a little... lacking.

It probably makes me a monster, but I'm trying to be completely transparent here. I know that compassion is a huge downfall of mine. I'm getting better - especially when the ones needing compassion are the people in my world that I love and cherish. I know that despite this horrible trait of mine, God loves me anyway. (Although you may love me just a little less, haha... It's ok, you can judge me a little. I totally understand.)

Anyway. All of that changed the moment I had a baby. I can't read stories about sick babies, broken families, or abused/unhealthy kids without my heart literally feeling like it's being ripped from my chest. I think I had to understand the depth of a love I had yet to experience, on some level... even if I'm never going to be able to completely wrap my mind around it. Infinite, endless love... God's kind of love... it's truly beyond words.

I have been following a husband and wife and the updates on their precious son on Facebook through a mutual friend. Baby Noah was born several weeks early with severe complications - and every time I see an update from this family, I want to race into Porter's room to wake him up from his nap and hold him close. This little boy in Florida is fighting for his life - failing kidneys, cysts, undergoing emergency surgeries. Seeing him hooked up to monitors and reading the faithful declarations of a terrified mother and father. It just kills me... every single time.

I don't know why I'm writing this entry, except for maybe to ask you to please pray for the Hill family, to please cherish your health and the health of your family, and to please live every single moment of your life with appreciation and thankfulness.

Sometimes, when Porter won't stop screaming or when the laundry is piling up or when the house is a disaster when I JUST CLEANED IT, I want to crawl in a dark hole and never come out.

Today, right now, I know this family would give anything in the world to be able to hear their baby cry a healthy, hearty, obnoxious and beautiful cry. They would give anything to be inundated by mountains of endless baby laundry. Or to be annoyed that the house seems to virtually dirty itself. They are praying for things that I take for granted, at some point, every single day.

Pray for each other. Let the laundry pile up for a few hours longer than you'd prefer. Wake up your little one from a nap just to cuddle them in the rocking chair for a few moments, even if you're "never supposed to wake a sleeping baby". Every moment that passes is a moment you'll never get back, and some moments that you allow to slip by are fleeting prayers for a family down the street.

Take care of each other. Have compassion. And always, always count your blessings and give thanks for the things in your life that you may have forgotten to appreciate.

1 comment:

  1. I'm exactly the same way. I was never moved by human suffering until I had Hudson. Now I can't handle any sad stories. I think because the kind of love you have for a child is so ridiculously on another level it just opens your heart up completely. And makes you more compassionate.

    Saying a prayer for the Hill family!