The Fatigue of Compassion

This summer has found me studying "The Compassion Fatigue Workbook."  A workbook given to me years ago at a conference.  I'm studying for myself, for my husband and my boys and for those I serve.

My husband and I have been in helping fields for over 27 years.  In addition to ministry, my husband was an emergency medical technician for years.  He has worked in the health care field for the past 14 years and serves as a chaplain at times of tragedy.  Serving in one of these positions can cause significant fatigue.  Serving in two simultaneously is unbelievable taxing.  

When we both serve in helping fields, we become immersed in the tragedy, pain, loss and trauma of others.  Unless we stay extremely vigilant, we become two un-moored souls, instead of the one body God intended.

God has given me the gift this summer of unscheduled time which in turn brings renewed perspective.  Perspective and the drive to paddle us back to a safe shore.  Perspective is also terrifying.  We have drifted way out to sea.  The waves are colossal and we don't know how to stay, how to leave or how to be.  

For years I've sacrificed my family and myself on the altar of the idol of service.  Not on my calling.  No, I've spent myself on some warped and trumped up need to be needed.  A desire to help. A compulsion to rescue and a need to be a fixed.  A stubbornness to stay, when no one else would.  Pride.  Denial.  

And yet, the truth does indeed bring freedom.
Brokenness brings hope.
Death brings new life.
Facing reality brings a chance to start again.

Praising God for being our creator and the creator of second chances.

"The expectation that we can be immersed in suffering and loss daily and not be touched by it is as unrealistic as expecting to be able to walk through water without getting wet.  This sort of denial is no small matter.  The way we deal with loss shapes our capacity to be present to life more than anything else.  The way we protect ourselves from loss may be the way in which we distance ourselves from life.  We burn out not because we don't care but because we don't grieve.  We burn out because weve allowed our hearts to become so filled with loss that we have no room left to care."  Naomi Rachel Remen, Kitchen Table Wisdom, p. 52