Do you ever have words that just ring in your mind, coming up over and over again? I've been noticing that I do. Last year a word that filtered through my head consistently was 'integrity'. Already for 2012 I have a new word, however.
It's 'compassion'.
I've been thinking a lot about compassion. Compassion for the poor, the broken, the "other", yes of course. We desperately need more compassion in our world, and I believe we need it in our government too.
But that's not the only 'compassion' I've been thinking about. I've been feeling a great deal of compassion for my husband lately. And my daughter and son, too, truth be told. The kids are teen-agers (or about to be, in Rose's case) and are wading through all that adolescence brings them from heavy school work loads to dealing with mean kids to learning to navigate the world and figure out their place in it.
Compassion for my husband I feel because I love him so, so dearly. And he works so hard. He loves what he does as a music teacher and a music education teacher, and he has this amazing ability to focus on it. Sometimes I've said he's a workaholic, but really for him it's that he's doing what he's passionate about and his focus is admirable and not, generally, unhealthy like an addiction is.
Merriam-Webster defines compassion this way: "sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it".
And the thing is, my husband gets tired working two teaching jobs, and in the end he's doing it all for us. Bringing home the bacon. (Speaking of bacon, I should be figuring out how I'm going to cook the pork chops tonight...) Improving schools by giving kids the gift of music as part of their every day. Teaching future teachers how to do so as well. And still being the most wonderful husband and dad I've ever known.
So here my word of the year turns into a soliloquy of love for my husband...and I have a poem to share. I wrote this in January of 2006, six years ago. There aren't Legos on our floor anymore, but it seems there is always something.
To My Husband.
I look at you across the room,
room filled with kids and clutter
and the chaos of our lives.
In your warm woolen sweater
patterned with snowflakes and geometry,
I want to crawl in,
to you.
Into your arms, next to your heart,
curled up in a little ball.
Love for you wells up behind my
eyes. It pools there
in quiet frustration. Resignation?
Salty,
stinging,
not sweet.
And I don't.
Crawl in, I mean.
The distance is too far,
the chaos too great,
the Legos like concrete barricades,
too high.
Instead I sit longing,
lonely.
(edited to add: Did you see this story today, or hear it on NPR? Amazing love story, that makes me grateful I get to live every day of my life with the love of my life...http://www.npr.org/2012/02/03/146303291/operator-can-you-help-me-call-the-love-of-my-life)
It's 'compassion'.
I've been thinking a lot about compassion. Compassion for the poor, the broken, the "other", yes of course. We desperately need more compassion in our world, and I believe we need it in our government too.
But that's not the only 'compassion' I've been thinking about. I've been feeling a great deal of compassion for my husband lately. And my daughter and son, too, truth be told. The kids are teen-agers (or about to be, in Rose's case) and are wading through all that adolescence brings them from heavy school work loads to dealing with mean kids to learning to navigate the world and figure out their place in it.
Compassion for my husband I feel because I love him so, so dearly. And he works so hard. He loves what he does as a music teacher and a music education teacher, and he has this amazing ability to focus on it. Sometimes I've said he's a workaholic, but really for him it's that he's doing what he's passionate about and his focus is admirable and not, generally, unhealthy like an addiction is.
Merriam-Webster defines compassion this way: "sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it".
And the thing is, my husband gets tired working two teaching jobs, and in the end he's doing it all for us. Bringing home the bacon. (Speaking of bacon, I should be figuring out how I'm going to cook the pork chops tonight...) Improving schools by giving kids the gift of music as part of their every day. Teaching future teachers how to do so as well. And still being the most wonderful husband and dad I've ever known.
So here my word of the year turns into a soliloquy of love for my husband...and I have a poem to share. I wrote this in January of 2006, six years ago. There aren't Legos on our floor anymore, but it seems there is always something.
To My Husband.
I look at you across the room,
room filled with kids and clutter
and the chaos of our lives.
In your warm woolen sweater
patterned with snowflakes and geometry,
I want to crawl in,
to you.
Into your arms, next to your heart,
curled up in a little ball.
Love for you wells up behind my
eyes. It pools there
in quiet frustration. Resignation?
Salty,
stinging,
not sweet.
And I don't.
Crawl in, I mean.
The distance is too far,
the chaos too great,
the Legos like concrete barricades,
too high.
Instead I sit longing,
lonely.
(edited to add: Did you see this story today, or hear it on NPR? Amazing love story, that makes me grateful I get to live every day of my life with the love of my life...http://www.npr.org/2012/02/03/146303291/operator-can-you-help-me-call-the-love-of-my-life)
Comments
Compassion is a fantastic word on which to focus. I'm still working on "grace", including the fact that just because it's my goal, I can't expect others to strive for the same thing. I feel like I have made good progress today.
I think I'll be writing more about compassion...especially in our personal relationships. Grace and compassion seem necessary for loving and/or liking anyone, don't they? Including ourselves.