Compassion Insight #4

It is the time of year that the pool water is just warm enough to swim in if you are under age 13, and just cool enough to keep everyone else out. Recently, Erika and her cousin Emma were trying to get themselves “psyched up” to jump in. They repeatedly reassured each other that it wasn’t “that bad” and that it would be easier than inching in. But it was hard for either of the girls to really commit to the plunge. Finally, Emma did it and as is typical, her persuasions continued but now they were more supported - she had done it and was in the water.

I know it is a stretch but I see an analogy here. Before I got “sick” in 2006, I didn’t know how to feel when I learned that someone had a terminal or chronic illness. I mean, I felt bad for them, but that vicarious sorrow lacked texture. Can I say that? Such news horrified me, but somehow I just couldn’t really internalize the sorrow. I wasn’t heartless; I just didn’t have a frame of reference.

Since my disease made its unwelcome debut, I feel that I now have a frame of reference. I’m in the pool. I don’t have every illness, but having this one seems to somehow help me feel more deeply for others. When my sister told me that she had a blip of skin cancer and she was waiting for further diagnosis, not only could I totally relate to those long days of uncertainty, I knew she’d soon be reconciled to the news, good or bad. I was concerned, but not alarmed. She would be OK. Maybe this is unfair to say; I have never had cancer or any kind of terminal diagnosis. But I have had “something very wrong” deep inside me and felt as though my world was crashing down. I’ve been in that pool, and although the water is cool, it isn’t as cold as I feared AND you do get used to it.

I won’t list all the people I know that have taken ill the past 2 years, but I will mention just two situations that are far worse than mine. A friend in my ward (younger than me) was diagnosed with cancer and another friend’s mother died of ALS. These are much worse cases than mine but somehow I feel that I can relate. Again, maybe it is unfair but I’m just saying that I have a reference point. I’ve done nothing heroic or even commendable; I just marvel how one little chronic illness seems to have changed transient sympathy to enduring empathy.

Regarding compassion my friend Jon wrote the following:

One thing I've learned from my sweet wife is that the capacities of the heart seem to multiply after the rest of the body has gone through a particularly painful period. Ironically, this heart stretching sometimes seems to increase the ability to both comfort others and feel deep pain for others.

The scriptures teach of One who “hath descended below them all” and that the Lord understands our sorrows. How is this possible? Did Jesus have MS or cancer? I don’t think so. But I believe he did suffer in body to an infinite extent that He has the perfect “frame of reference.” Maybe he didn’t lose his voice, but in losing his life and atoning for our sins, He earned perfect and infinite compassion. We can’t go into any pool, no matter how icy cold the water, but that He isn't there.

And He assures us that the water is not “that bad,” at least not colder than we can handle.