Newspaper columnists of the left and right typically advance
their agenda, criticize their opponents and declare the moral high ground for
their party . . . or themselves. Every so often a columnist, normally
associated with politics, takes us well outside that box and rather than
dividing us with party rhetoric, or promoting his or her rectitude, underscores
our common humanity and identifies the importance of what unites us. New York
Times’ David Brooks wrote just such a column In January called “The Art of
Presence.”
Brooks cites how the Woodwiss family, within three years,
underwent horrendous trauma; one daughter had been killed in a horseback riding
accident and the other, three years later, was stuck by a car while bike
riding, crushing and disfiguring her face. She will have to undergo long and
painful operations. This daughter, named Catharine writes:” When you feel like
a quivering, cowardly shell of yourself, when despair yawns as a terrible
chasm, when fear paralyses any chance of pleasure . . . this is a fight that
has to be won over and over again.”
The raw trauma people suffer often makes us feel anxious,
uncertain, awkward and even guilty because we’ve been spared such horrors. The self-consciousness
we experience in the presence of another’s suffering can precipitate remarks
and behaviors, however well intentioned, that are insensitive.
The Woodwiss’s experience has taught them wisdom about
relating to suffering people that they pass on to us. I am editing some of these thoughts to
elaborate while hopefully remaining faithful to their intent
Be there. In a culture that is obsessed with doing, the
power of an unobtrusive presence - just
being there - cannot be overestimated. Loneliness can be the worst aspect of
suffering.
Don’t compare. “I know just how you feel” comments are
simply not so. We may imagine but we can’t know exactly and to say so is
presumptuous.
Do bring soup. Identify small needs such as a bath mat or
soup and provide it. Little things can comfort and mean a lot to sufferers.
Don’t say ‘you’ll get over it.’ Remarks like this are often
in the service of the would-be comforter, not the afflicted. It’s one way a
comforter might try to minimize his or her own discomfort.
Walk alongside. The Woodwiss’s make a distinction between
the fireman and the builder. The fireman puts the fire out, a critical one-time
intervention. The builder, however, comes in for the long haul. Stay connected.
Healing takes time.
Don’t presume to make sense of it. As human beings we
intuitively seek meaning. In our eagerness to help we often offer formulaic
answers to life’s imponderable questions. It doesn’t work. The word “preaching’
has earned an unhappy reputation for that reason. Meaning is discovered by one’s
faith, that is, by first learning to live with the pain of trauma that almost
always seems void of any meaning.
Brooks summarizes beautifully what the Woodwiss’s have
taught him about the path of healing from trauma: “Allow nature to take its
course. Grant the sufferers the dignity of their own process. Let them define
meaning, sit simply through moments of pain and darkness . . . be practical,
mundane, simple and direct.”
Thank you David Brooks for dignifying our human condition by
lifting up the Woodwiss’s journey for the country to see.
