My friend Sharon is a psychologist currently working at an international hospital in Shanghai, China. She said I could share this with you, from one of her recent letters:
As a psychologist, the second most frequent question I get (the first one being – can you read my mind?), is how I do my job without getting depressed when all I do is sit and listen to people's problems all day. Indeed, that is part of the job description. To make things even more complicated, in a setting such as this, the vast majority of the people that I see are far from their home countries, which means they are at great distance from the support system and resources they are used to. In addition to listening to their problems, I find myself trying to stand in for the lack of other resources I would otherwise have the luxury of sending them to.
In one day, I might sit with parents who have just learned their child is autistic, help an adolescent grapple with the reality of a friend's suicide, explore the alcoholic cravings of a depressed mother, confront the denial of a bulimic, seek healing for a marriage shattered by infidelity. And this would not be an unusual day. I am pressed to use every ounce of everything I have ever learned from a textbook or from life to know how best to respond to the problems that I see every day.
Admittedly, there are days when I feel like the world is bleeding at my doorstep and I am helpless to staunch the flow. But listening to people's problems is only one part of the job description. The other part is that I actually get to imbue hope and healing. The reality is that the world is a place full of pain. Everyone carries injuries and burdens that are usually unseen by others. I see a lot of wounds, but I also get to see a lot of healing. Rather than being weighed down by the woes of the world, I get to see and experience the amazing capacity of people to find a way when they thought all was lost. To display courage that they didn't know they had....
I was inspired by Sharon's letter because many times I do not feel that listening is "enough." And true, sometimes we do have to physically do something for that person in need -- make a meal; care for her child; run that errand; fix that car (or pitch in the money to have it fixed). But in this world of "resounding gongs and clanging cymbals" (see David Dark's recent post on this), a patient listening ear can be just the form of love a person needs. Recently, I have been listening a lot to a friend in need. And in turn, I unburden myself to other of my friends, who gently sit through my long ramblings as I process my own emotions and struggles as a result of listening to this other friend's deep sorrows. But it's a beautiful circle of caring, of giving and, in turn, receiving.
This is Love with hands and feet on.
Both paintings featured in this post are by my sister, who has just in the last year or two discovered her skills as a canvas painter. To see more of her work, please visit her website.
No comments:
Post a Comment