Turning pain into purpose

It struck me as ugly.

Which is not a nice thing to say. Yet, true.

Yesterday, I read a Facebook post written by an old colleague. It has me wondering what to say.

You know the relationship, Dear Reader.

The person you worked with way back, who you would kind of consider a friend, who you thought you knew, reveals themselves with a social media post that has you scratching your head.

Is this who they always were? Is this who they have become? I had to read it twice to make sure I caught it correctly the first time.

Sadly, I did.

It was some mishmash of, “Blah blah blah, the media celebrates this life but not that life.”

It showed two pictures sideby-side of two men, both who met tragic ends, both painful stories.

This “friend” felt the need to disparage one man while celebrating the other, keeping in mind, she knew neither one in real life.

What was I to say?

Well, nothing, of course, because nothing good is gained by jumping into a wacky social media post.

What would I say, if I could? “Dear Woman,” I would ask, “when did you get so hateful?”

And the big one I’ve long tried to teach my daughters: Before you act, ask yourself, “What are you trying to achieve?”

Was this post to celebrate a man she thought had been overlooked as a hero? Very good, then. Then what is to be gained by putting down another?

“Let’s not compare pain,” I would nudge her. “You don’t make one person’s pain more important by trying to discount another.”

What to do with pain, then? I thought of another friend, the three of us worked at the same local TV station more than 20 years ago.

I guess the first woman wasn’t lucky enough to spend as much time with our wiser colleague.

It was from her that I learned the concept of not comparing pain. “Just because someone loses a leg,” she would say, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t also hurt to lose a foot. All pain deserves, even needs to be acknowledged.”

It’s what she does with her pain that makes this friend so beautiful.

She offers it up.

She channels her pain into a prayer for someone with a fresh cancer diagnosis, for someone in prison, for someone with a baby in a NICU.

This isn’t to compare or diminish whatever hard time she might be going through.

Rather, to redirect.

What a concept.

That pain could have a purpose.

Can one person’s prayer make a difference?

Who am I to say?

I figure it certainly can’t hurt. Which is where you come in, Dear Reader.

May I take my pain and offer it up for you?

You, who had a particularly hard week. One bigger than you saw coming.

The idea that you would let me think of you and give my pain purpose,

I can’t think of a more beautiful thing.