Weep With Those Who Weep

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep." Romans 12:15

I am of course impressed by a host of things about Rachel—I am her mommy, it’s part of my job description to think that my children are the most incredible creations on the planet.  However, there is one trait of Rachel’s that has always struck me as particularly amazing and that is her compassion for others.  Rachel’s emotional intelligence is off the charts when it comes to recognizing that someone is hurt—either physically or emotionally—and comforting them with her love and affection.  I recall numerous times when someone in our home has been sick or hurt and Rachel is first to come snuggle up and say, “Are you OK?” give us a kiss and then say, “Better?” She gets upset if she hears someone raise their voice in anger and immediately rushes to comfort whomever she believes to be on the receiving end of the outburst.  Rachel is compassion with skin on, and it is humbling and inspiring to watch her ministry in action.

In July Rachel started going to a new preschool where she met a few new friends and continued friendships with a few old friends that have been receiving special services alongside Rachel since we moved to Salinas in 2010.  One of these long-time friends is Mario*.  Rachel and Mario met when they were in the same toddler class at the Salinas Adult School and have continued to be in the same classrooms as they move through the stages of special ed preschool.  I do not actually know what Mario’s diagnosis is, but I do know that he has trouble with eating.  When he was smaller he was fed exclusively through a feeding tube, though now he has graduated to being able to eat small amounts with his mouth and only supplements through his feeding tube.  Up until this school year all of Mario’s feeding treatments had been done at home, but now they are in a school where the students are served both breakfast and lunch in the classroom so the teachers were trained on how to manage his feeding machine and meals.

When I picked Rachel up from her first day at the new pre-school her teacher told me about an experience they had in the class with Rachel that day.  When it came time for lunch all the kids pulled out their little packed lunches to eat, while the teachers put together Mario’s feeding machine and hooked him up.  When Rachel saw the machine and the tubes going into Mario’s tummy she rushed over and, with tears streaming down her face said, “Mario!  What’s wrong?!”  The teachers tried to comfort Rachel by telling her that Mario was fine, this didn’t hurt him and it was just the way that Mario eats his food.  Rachel was not consoled.  She cried, and cried and cried—not leaving Mario’s side for a moment.  She held his hand and patted his arm and kept saying through her tears, “It’s ok, Mario.  It’s ok.”  When the feeding tubes were removed Rachel wiped away her tears, smiled and said, “Mario, all better?”  The teachers assured her that Mario was just fine and the two children ran off to play.

I was moved by Rachel’s concern for her friend and talked with her about it on our way to daycare that day.  I assured her again that Mario was OK and that his body just needed to take food in a different way than her body does.

Over the next few weeks Rachel continued to express her concern for Mario.  When the teachers would pull out the machine she would cry and run to Mario, hold his hand and keep saying, “It’s ok, Mario” then  routinely follow up with, “Mario all better?” at the end.  Each day her tears were fewer and fewer until finally about a month later she didn’t cry at all when they started the machine.  But, that didn’t stop her from showing her love and concern for her fellow classmate.  To this day whenever Mario’s feedings begin Rachel runs over, sits beside him, holds his hand and tells him “It’s ok.”  Now, instead of tears, she sings songs to Mario, tells him wild and engaging stories that only she and him seem to understand, and sometimes just sits quietly beside him—lovingly showing her support.

How many of us show such compassion toward others?  How many of us take time out of our day to go sit by someone we care about and hold their hand while they experience something that may not be terribly pleasant?  I admire this trait in my child and pray that one day I will see the world through her eyes, and share my love so freely in the healing and passionate way that she does.

*I’ve changed his name for privacy reasons.