[suffering is sweet agony]
Back when I was in high school, I had this one teacher who was just amazing. My sophomore year I met her (as she was a coach off one of my sports teams), and she was just so damn awesome, I decided to take an elective with her my senior year. I really looked up to her - she was intelligent, fun, and had a great sense of humor. She was in her late 30's or early 40's I believe...I remember thinking, "Damn, I hope I can still be that full of life when I grow older."
But during my senior year she was diagnosed with a terminal illness. I don't even know for sure what she had - I know she missed quite a bit of work for awhile there. But more than that...she changed. Her sense of humor was gone. She snapped at just about everybody. She had no understanding or sympathy for anyone else, because she was so consumed by her own pain.
It was sad losing her as a role model. I remember I did something stupid in her class once (playing around instead of working, I admit it), but that one small mistake was held against me forever. I never did anything right, either in class or at practice. I remember her telling me at the end of the year I'd never amount to much. I still wonder if she ever came to terms with her illness...or if she ever realized how much she hurt me.
Over the next few years, whenever I'd think about her I'd start to resent her more and more...especially when I got sick, too. I remember thinking about the things she said to me, and wondering if I had the chance to see her again, if I would throw it in her face? Would I scream, "See, you're not the only one in physical pain...get over yourself"?
The sad reality about myself that I realized this week is that I turned out to be just like her.
Though unlike her, I try not to take out my problems on the people around me. I don't always succeed, but at least most of the time I have enough sense to run away before doing any real damage to anyone else. But I adopted the same mentality she had.
You would think suffering this kind of pain would make people like her and me more sympathetic to others who are hurting. Instead, we developed this haughty, sneering indifference to anyone we think doesn't "hurt enough" to be considered an equal in pain endured.
And then this song lyric popped into my head as I was driving away tonight:
"Who am I to compare my pain to yours?
Suffering is sweet agony.
Who am I to compare my pain to yours?
My suffering must mean nothing."
- Plumb, "Who Am I?"
Considering my religious beliefs, if I do believe in God and what He did to acheive salvation for us all - then I have to accept that Jesus came to this world and suffered a death no other human has endured. And my pain, compared to His, is of little consequence.
So who am I to say that I've had a harder time of it? Or that your struggle isn't worth as much sympathy as mine was?
But during my senior year she was diagnosed with a terminal illness. I don't even know for sure what she had - I know she missed quite a bit of work for awhile there. But more than that...she changed. Her sense of humor was gone. She snapped at just about everybody. She had no understanding or sympathy for anyone else, because she was so consumed by her own pain.
It was sad losing her as a role model. I remember I did something stupid in her class once (playing around instead of working, I admit it), but that one small mistake was held against me forever. I never did anything right, either in class or at practice. I remember her telling me at the end of the year I'd never amount to much. I still wonder if she ever came to terms with her illness...or if she ever realized how much she hurt me.
Over the next few years, whenever I'd think about her I'd start to resent her more and more...especially when I got sick, too. I remember thinking about the things she said to me, and wondering if I had the chance to see her again, if I would throw it in her face? Would I scream, "See, you're not the only one in physical pain...get over yourself"?
The sad reality about myself that I realized this week is that I turned out to be just like her.
Though unlike her, I try not to take out my problems on the people around me. I don't always succeed, but at least most of the time I have enough sense to run away before doing any real damage to anyone else. But I adopted the same mentality she had.
You would think suffering this kind of pain would make people like her and me more sympathetic to others who are hurting. Instead, we developed this haughty, sneering indifference to anyone we think doesn't "hurt enough" to be considered an equal in pain endured.
And then this song lyric popped into my head as I was driving away tonight:
"Who am I to compare my pain to yours?
Suffering is sweet agony.
Who am I to compare my pain to yours?
My suffering must mean nothing."
- Plumb, "Who Am I?"
Considering my religious beliefs, if I do believe in God and what He did to acheive salvation for us all - then I have to accept that Jesus came to this world and suffered a death no other human has endured. And my pain, compared to His, is of little consequence.
So who am I to say that I've had a harder time of it? Or that your struggle isn't worth as much sympathy as mine was?
 | Song of the Day: Plumb - "Who Am I?" www.plumbinfo.com |
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