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| Photo by Saad Sharif on Unsplash |
This week I have been away at a training. The night I flew to New Mexico, Sonoma County caught fire. Miles away from my family, my friends, and my community I stared at a text from my daughter asking what I wanted her to take when they evacuated.
Saturday night as “historic” winds were expected to drive the wildfire, our training group gathered for a powerful prayer from a Pueblan elder. I was able to acknowledge the deep grief and fear, embody it. And by the end of the ceremony, I was full. Some of my colleagues came up to hug, to reassure, to comfort. I found myself saying, “I love you, and I need to be alone right now.”
Compassion is a gift of our humanity. Please stand with those in pain and sorrow; please don’t help us until we ask then support us in ways we want to be supported, not what you think we need.
There were many gifts that night of prayer. Perhaps most important, I learned not to rush in with comfort, with Kleenex, with reassuring words. I learned to let folks be present to their experience, to companion them with my presence. That is more than enough.
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