Listening to, and Learning from, Those who have Suffered

When I picked up the phone, it was with trepidation and a feeling of inadequacy. What could I possibly say in the light of such a sudden, inexplicable crisis that a loved one was facing? I was in shock but yet somehow I had to respond. There were no words. I felt impotent. About 15 minutes later, I put the phone down, awestruck and encouraged by such faith and hope in the midst of adversity. I was the one that was meant to be doing the encouraging, wasn’t I? How could it be that someone in the midst of their crisis had just inspired me? I almost felt guilty.

An Easy Mistake to Make

That phone conversation happened many years ago now, but it’s one that I’ve never forgotten. It made an impression on me. I picked up the phone thinking that I was the strong one and that anyone in the midst of a crisis must inevitably be weaker. It’s an easy mistake to make.

I’m not suggesting that we should expect to receive anything from those that are in a moment of crisis; I cannot emphasise that enough. It’s perfectly ok for them to just cry, grieve and scream at life or God. We certainly shouldn’t be demanding anything from them at that time, but nor should we assume that they will not have anything to offer, albeit without even realising it. As the crisis progresses to become more chronic and longer lasting, so the likelihood that the one who is suffering will learn something of value greatly increases. We should never assume that they are too weak to have found any strength, too distraught to have found any encouragement, too caught up in the depths of despair to have found any hope. We should never presume to “teach” them a platitude when the lessons that they have learnt may be so much more profound, and they may have much to teach us. We have to listen very carefully to learn those lessons though. Sometimes they’re choked out in the midst of tears, as was the case in the aforementioned phone conversation. Sometimes it’s the beauty that rises up out of the ashes of despair, grief and lost dreams. It may be a fresh understanding of what it means to hope, a smile that goes deeper than the circumstances, a sense of humour that seems out of place and yet isn’t, or a new ability to reach out to others. It may be a decision to fight, to choose life for however long we have it, to make the most of every moment. It may be an awakening to the beauty and blessings that surround us and which we often ignore or take for granted until we so desperately need to see and appreciate them.

The University of Life Experience

I’ve lived with infertility for more than six years now. That makes me something of an expert, as we are all experts in areas of our life experience. In six years, I could have studied a degree, then a Masters and now be well into a PhD. I certainly wouldn’t have chosen infertility for my university of life course though. I didn’t want to learn this. I’m signed up for the wrong course; get me out of here! I was meant to be doing a “motherhood degree.” That’s the course that I applied for. What am I even doing here? But here I am, and I’ve learnt a lot, so I guess that means I have something to say. Even with infertility, however, I’m only an expert as far as my own experience goes. I still have much to learn as others share their experiences with me, for every journey is different. At times, I’ve found it hard when someone with no experience of infertility has tried to teach me how I should live with it, how I should hope and what my next steps should be. I would compare it to an adult who got their 100 metre badge twenty years ago trying to teach a younger Olympic swimmer how to go for gold. Don’t do it! I’m kicking at the door, screaming to get off this course and do my chosen degree. I’m trapped, and I can’t get out. I didn’t choose this course of study, and I don’t want to be here but there is freedom in choosing how to respond to it. So, I’m learning. I’m learning everything that I can because I want to be fertile even in the midst of physical infertility. I don’t want to waste this learning experience, even if I would never have chosen it.

When I am Weak, then I am Strong

In his weakness, the apostle Paul found that God’s power was perfected and that when he was weak, then he was strong. That was his experience and his testimony. Please don’t use these verses to tell someone that the reason for their suffering is so that God’s power can be perfected in them though. That would be to impose an answer. Let’s just stick with the questions for now. Do we believe that a person can be strong even when on the outside they appear weak? In practice do we believe that? Do we believe that a person is more than a debilitating illness, more than their grief and more than the ups and downs of life’s emotional roller-coasters? When we see someone crying do we assume that means that they are drowning in negativity and despair? Do we consider it our job to teach them to be more positive, to correct them and to point them towards hope? Do we take on the role of teacher rather than being prepared to humble ourselves and let those who have found strength in weakness be the ones to teach us? Do we listen to discover whether they have a treasure chest of sustaining hope and faith, or are we too focussed on handing out a chocolate coin or two?

Who is the Expert?

The challenge is to reconsider what it means to be strong and to reconsider who is the expert with the necessary studies of life experience to be qualified to speak on the subject. It is a challenge to listen, to be prepared to learn and to go deeper than the outward appearances of pain and illness. We need to let go of assumptions and prejudice. We need to stop forcing answers and imposing our ideas as to how those who are suffering should be responding and we need to start by listening. Just listen.

As I end this post, I’m thinking of a precious lady in her 90s, who was never able to have children and from whom I continue to draw so much inspiration. I’m thinking of a friend who has to use a wheelchair most of the time and of another friend who is living with cancer. You may not be the powerful teachers that some in this world are looking for, but for me you have been. Thank you.