Garth Brooks might have thanked God for unanswered prayers, but right now I just can’t do that. I stopped trying to fix the world’s complexities long ago as trying to simply understand the problems seemed easier and more attainable. Besides, I’m far too busy trying to figure out what’s going on in my own head to worry about everyone else’s issues.
And therein lies the problem. Focusing on other people allows me not to face my own demons. I don’t have to think about the complicated answers and sort them out so all the pieces fit when there are others to worry about.
But I’ve decided that I can’t help other people… because I suck at it.
Sometime between age 18 and the day before yesterday I learned that service doesn’t have to mean painting a barn, cleaning someone’s house or babysitting. Somewhere along the way the question came into my mind, “What do we live for if not to make life easier for others?” What does it hurt to give a stranger or tourist directions? Help carry someone’s groceries to his or her car? Advise which roads not to take during rush hour? Share a cab? Offer someone a ride? Give a hug? Send a card?
Most of us carry in our hearts a desire to assist the poor, to lift the distressed, to give comfort and hope and to help all those who are in trouble and pain. We recognize the need to heal the wounds of society and replace with optimism, faith, and hope. Truly great men and women resolve to dedicate a part of their lives and time to those in distress.
Helping hands can lift someone out of the mire of difficulty. Steady voices can provide encouragement for some who might otherwise give up. Listening to another’s burdens can be an immense sense of relief and release for the one doing the talking.
In short, it never hurts anyone to be nice.
Having waxed poetic, I feel I should be honest. I believe serving others is closest we can be like gods ourselves. I was always taught to lose myself in the service of others and I think I have truly lost myself. I am so lost, in fact, that at this juncture I am starting to wonder the point of me being here. Not in DC but on the Earth itself.
Why reach out and try to help others if we are continually rejected?
I don’t really fit in anywhere. I’m too liberal for my culture and I’m considered incredibly sheltered, naïve, and just plain weird by the rest. I keep praying God will take away my compassion so the burdens, loneliness and inability to make a difference in other people’s lives won’t hurt so much. I think that’s one prayer He’s not going to answer.
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