More than we know
Sunday November 29th 2009, 10:39 pm
Filed under: Friends,Life

Borrowing another photo from last year to brighten things up a bit while impatiently waiting for my amaryllises to start budding for the season.

Someone spoke at church today about her family’s reunion held in Thailand a few years back; they’d originally booked four days on the beach, but after they’d been there a day or two, decided, you know, we’d really like to go to church; where’s the nearest?…

And so they’d left that hotel in Phuket. After they got safely further north, they felt a bump that was the earthquake that triggered the tsunami.

The hotel they’d just been in was gone.

I told the speaker afterwards of my encounter with my neighbor who had just spent a month driving relief trucks for the Red Cross after what was, for her, too, supposed to be a family vacation in an exotic spot.  How my neighbor, in the aftermath, was going from being intensely needed and involved and actively participating in the helping and in the grieving, to being home, where–nobody knew.

And somehow just in that moment as she stepped out of that car from the airport, I went outside to check my mailbox and saw her and went over to welcome her, having no idea where she’d been on her trip or why she’d been gone so long.  She threw her arms around me and sobbed the whole story.

It was easier to bear now: someone here knew.

And now that woman at church knows my neighbor knows what it was like to be there in Thailand on that day, someone in this city knew that beach too, someone right here loved those people and wonders and cares about them still.

Someone else knows.

And that is an inherently comforting thing.

9 Comments so far
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What a warm and wonderful post what a comfort she was to those who needed her and what a comfort you were as well.(((((Hugging You))))) Darcy

Comment by Darcy 11.30.09 @ 12:02 am

The ripples ever widen….

I have three amaryllis bulbs planted. All had green leaf tips showing when I got them, but only one has shot up a six-inch (so far) bloom stalk. Come ON, I say to the others. Oh, I know, they are three varieties, so have their own timing. It would have been lovely to have them bloom together, though.

Comment by Barbara-Kay 11.30.09 @ 5:15 am

How wonderful that the connection could be made! Thanks to you as the bridge, those two islands of sorrow can create an island of empathy, warmth and comfort.

There are still people with a good heart and an open mind in this world! 🙂

Comment by Suzanne in Mtl 11.30.09 @ 6:53 am

{{{{{{{{{{Alison}}}}}}}}} It is not always easy to connect people, particularly when the connection is shared sorrow, but it is such an important gift to share.

Comment by Diana Troldahl 11.30.09 @ 7:45 am

And a basic truth is once again revealed — shared sorrows are easier to bear.

Is it fair to follow with humor?

A doctor was in the habit of going to his favorite bar at the end of the day for his favorite drink, a daiquiri. The bartender would grate some nutmeg on the top, which the doctor liked. One day the bartender discovered he was out of nutmeg, so he grated a bit of hickory nut over the doctor’s drink. “Hey, what’s this?” the doctor asked when he tasted the drink. “Oh, that’s a hickory daiquiri, doc”

Comment by Don Meyer 11.30.09 @ 11:21 am

So simple, so true.

Comment by twinsetellen 11.30.09 @ 7:25 pm

By “accident” I just passed the cursor over the lovely blossoms, and up popped the words “Lean towards the light” — just the reminder I needed. I will go to bed feeling peaceful. Once again, so many thanks!
Carol in MA

Comment by Carol Telsey 11.30.09 @ 7:28 pm

And thanks to you, we know about them.

Comment by karin maag-tanchak 12.01.09 @ 8:45 am

No coincidences, but you know that. 😉 It’s a small world after all.

Comment by Channon 12.02.09 @ 10:48 am

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