April 17, 2013

Gentle Understanding


In the fourth grade, I could hear a buzz of people talking above me concerned that I wasn't waking. Opening my eyes, all I could see was darkness. I told them to turn on the lights. They assured me the lights were on. I cried out for my glasses hoping they would help, but they didn't. Was I blind? What happened? I panicked and cried out for my twin sister. They rushed her in and I clung to her, but I didn't think they fully understood the situation. I kept telling the voices in the room, "I can't see! I can't see!" 

They spoke in hushed tones, only escalating my fear. And just when I felt I might start sobbing, Mom entered the room. I felt her cool hand on my brow and her concerned tone. "I'm here," she said. And in that moment I felt completely and utterly understood. She knew my fear, I didn't even have to speak it. She took my hand explaining the situation and told me what was going to happen next. She knew I needed to know. She understood if I had something to hold onto, I could keep the frantic thoughts at bay.

Life hands out these moments, these awful, terrifying moments where everything is chaos and nothing makes sense. Where you're left in the dark with people whispering around you feeling completely terrified and alone. And finding someone, anyone, who understands you seems like a lifeline. Feeling that kind of beauty in the middle of a storm buoys you.

I can't help but wonder how many moments like this pass daily where the person down the street, across the table or sitting right next to me is terrified and needing to know that someone understands. Am I paying attention? Am I willing to rush into the scary unknown to help them? 


My sight returned as Dad carried me to the car that day. I'd suffered a concussion. After a few days of sleeping (being carefully monitored), I regained all I'd lost. But I will never forget that moment, that tender precious moment of Mom taking my hand in full understanding and putting my heart at ease.

14 comments :

  1. This is a lovely post. I've fainted a few times in the past to look up at anxious faces staring down at me but that was only for a few seconds I think so I can imagine how terrified you must have been. To reach out and help is more important than people realise. It's easy to think that others are ok and don't need it but you never know what a difference it could make. Gorgous photos!xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's complete bravery to reach out, not knowing how it will be received, and I've had people in my life do just that. Thank you for your beautiful thoughts, Jess.

      Delete
  2. A beautiful post Catherine with beautiful photos. Hugs Annette x

    ReplyDelete
  3. Oh Catherine
    what can I say?
    I love your heart

    love and light

    ReplyDelete
  4. I was reading a journal entry that I'd made a few years back last night. I was thinking about people that were suffering and didn't have anyone to love them. I think that this tender post speaks to the absolute need that each of us has for love. It softens the blows that life gives and it is healing. It reassures, it comforts and without it we wither and die inside.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh yes, the most longed for desire~to be loved. You're right, Clare, it's such a great need.

      Delete
  5. Wow! What a thoughtful, beautifully written post!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oops, sorry about that, I hit the wrong key, Zafaran. ;)

      Delete
  6. beautiful photos
    and that must have been very scary for you

    I have been praying for the people in Boston this week

    ReplyDelete

Thank you so much for your visit. I love hearing from you and dearly appreciate your comment!