Compassion
Compassion can take many forms, it doesn't have to be a specific act as obvious as handing someone in need a twenty dollar bill. It can be a thought or hug or a simple word that makes a person feel appreciated, cared about, loved.
It was a few days after Christmas 1996. I was still reeling from the sting of my parents' disappointment that I was 19, unwed, and a few weeks pregnant. Their first born child, straight A student on scholarship at a private university was pregnant. I don't remember them being angry but the pained look on their faces as they saw all their future hopes for me dissolve with the announcement of a baby will always haunt me. Greg wasn't with me when I had told my parents but I was unwillingly there when he surprised his family with the news.
I had only even met his family for the first time a week before as they had been living temporarily in Florida. They had flown up for Christmas and were staying at Greg's grandparents' house where the events unfolded.
Greg's mom was lecturing Greg that we were moving too fast after he had told her that we were living together. I was sitting wordlessly next to Greg on the 1970's orange print sofa, trying not to show how completely nervous and scared I was. When Greg said "well if you don't like that, you should probably know that Katie is pregnant." The whole house went dead silent and I prayed with all my heart for a hole to open up underneath me and swallow me whole.
The words between Greg and his mom following that bombshell announcement I've forgotten or mentally blocked. My next memory was me in Grandma's blue kitchen watching her make dinner while Greg and his parents spoke in another room. Greg's grandma was everything I expect a grandma to be: short and a little plumb, cheerful and friendly, one of those little old ladies with her other little old lady friends at quilt shops. I remember silently sitting on a bar stool, staring off into space thinking, "they hate me, how are we ever going to get past this?"
And then Greg's grandma said to me, "I know they are all a little upset in there but I have to tell you, I'm excited. I'm going to be a great-grandma!"
I'll never know if she meant for those words to comfort me but her statement changed my entire outlook. We weren't dealing with a problem of how we were going to finish college or where we were going to live. It was a baby, another generation, the future, an important link to the family members of the past. She was thankful to be able to see this next generation and happy that Greg and I were pregnant with the baby that would make her a great-grandma.
This to me is compassion. Saying the right words to cheer a person who has lost hope. Helping someone see beyond the fear of the moment. Staying positive when the rest of the world crashes down.
I never got the chance to tell her how much her simple words meant to me. I'm eternally grateful for her positive attitude that day. From her example, I always try to find the silver lining to every dark cloud, to be caring when confronted with anger, and to spread hope when others despair. In memory of her, I'll never forget to be compassionate to those in need, especially when a few caring words can make all the difference.
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