the beginning of compassion

i do not remember when i started my 100 joy quilts project, all i remember is that i started it when i was not inspired enough to take on and paint.  my goal then was to hold an exhibit to show off when i get to finish the collection.  to date, i have done only eight and have given away six of them.  there goes my exhibit. bwahahaha!  

then came the yolanda tragedy, and i was thinking, if i had finished my project on time, i would have given at least ninety-two persons some blankets. designed, pieced and sewn by me.  but procrastination got the better of me, needless to say, am not waiting for another yolanda, am giving away my quilts as soon as i make them, there simply is no time to waste, in giving a bit of joy.

last week, my friends in the bpmacs and i, went on our annual buy.give.love program. this time, we went to this place called "gift of love", managed by the sisters of the MofC.  i cooked (well, not literally. bwahahaha!) and brought the food to the place, late.  when i got there, mon was already waiting anxiously for me at the gate.  i found rachelle emceeing and the rest of the gang, distributing the gifts.

when i reached the hall where we met the tenants, i could not seem to reach  the front stage, where i was supposed to give a message.  

i was trying to keep off my tears, but failed, i had to wipe them off pretending i got something in my eyes from the wind.  i did not want them to see me cry, well, nobody has seen me cry.  bwahahaha!  i do that in private, i do not look cute when i do, that is why.  bwahahaha!

i thought of a time when i would scoff at people who would do charitable activities.  i always think:  you are just doing it to make yourself feel better.  so that, when it was time for me to bring my group to do this one act of charity, i was consciously asking myself, if indeed, i was just doing it to make myself feel good.  it bugged me, but for some reason, i could not quite shake it.  i took a mental inventory of how i felt.

at first, pretty good.  it was nearing christmas, and people were appreciative of the food we were serving and the gifts we were giving away, especially the kids.  then i came to this corner where i saw two old women, helpless in their wheelchairs, both were blind and were having tremors.  and i did not know how they would enjoy the simple snacks we brought.  my heart sank.  i felt terrible, wishing i had the heart of my sister, T, she being a nurse, would and could easily have taken the job of feeding them, and i could not help feeling bad!  

what we were doing was nowhere enough.  and it was when it hit me.
this is the beginning of compassion: not feeling better, but feeling worse.  because i can always do more; i can always give something extra, always meet another need. and i checked how i was feeling, and i know this for sure:  if my heart does not break each time i go to places full of pain and hardship, then i am probably doing something wrong.  

the reality is that when i expose myself to the deep needs of this world, it feels anything but good. compassion is messy work. it hurts. no one ever says this, i never even read it on billboards.  but it is true.  doing good sometimes feels bad.  there is no other way to say it.  

if you want to get involved in helping other people because you think it will make you feel better, then you had better change career paths. because the last thing you will feel is good!