To suffer and to love

I arrived at the Lifehouse about a week and a half ago, unsure of what to expect but prepared to stay all summer. So far my time has here has been more rewarding than I could have imagined, small graces and joys piling up on one another.

Already I’ve heard stories so complicated and twisted I couldn’t have made them up. These girls and women come in and they are terrified. They feel trapped by their circumstances — not enough money, incomplete education, bad advice from parents, boyfriends. Oftentimes there’s a past hurt haunting them — a previous terminated pregnancy, sexual abuse, the death of a loved one for whom they still grieve.

They come in and we talk. We begin as complete strangers, but it’s not long before I hear things they don’t tell their husbands or boyfriends, their mothers or best friends.

We talk and I try to offer help. Concrete help, in the form of the many resources available, is easy enough. Soon enough I’ll be able to rattle off the various agencies and social services without a second thought. But before they can get to the point where they will consider food stamps or a maternity home, they need help with their pain.

Suffering. These girls are suffering, and in a very real sense this pregnancy will cause them to suffer in a way that no one else can ease. And they somehow believe that the suffering of carrying a pregnancy to term is far greater than the suffering of ripping your own child from within you and living with that knowledge until the day you die. Not because they’re cruel, not because they’re unintelligent. Because they have been misinformed and lied to. Because their circumstances for bringing life into the world are far from ideal.

Because they feel alone.

One of the center directors emphasizes this a lot. Look at the girl, she says. Look at her as though she is the most important person in the world to you. Look at her and see how she suffers, see how she carries this weight and is without hope. And I’m beginning to, accepting this challenge and this gift.

To suffer with those who suffer is, I have always thought, one of the most beautiful parts of Christ’s life on earth.