Validation

I have a wonderful friend who is kinda like a modern Prov. 31 superwoman.  She's friendly and connects with people of all ages.  She's prayerful and wise and humble.  She's nurturing and invested in relationships.  She keeps her house perfectly clean and when she finds that she has low energy, she listens to history courses on tape as she rests on the couch.  And since triathlons are not really pregnancy material, she's walked 8 miles most days of her 1st pregnancy to get to and from daily Mass.  The interesting thing is, she's human.  And I have a sneaking suspicion, she might not actually be practically perfect (that's what she says anyhow), though I haven't caught her at it yet.

But today, this beautiful new mother admitted, "I totally underestimated labor!"  And I felt validated, because I think pushing a kid out of your body is pretty tough too, maybe even tougher than a triathlon, but I've never done one to find out..  But, I've done the labor thing three times.

Why is it that a strange part of us feels validated by seeing the weaknesses of others?  Perhaps I'm just a really prideful person.  C.S. Lewis says in his book The Four Loves that even seeing yourself as weak (what might be termed "bad self-esteem") is actually a form of twisted pride because you claim you should be at a certain level but for mitigating circumstances (excuses), when reality is different.  Maybe, I want other people to be weak in ways that I have been weak; I want my idols to fall to my level.  But I think all of that is something else--jealousy.

I think that there can be another source to this emotion that is neither pride nor jealousy.  It's a feeling of validation as a result of empathy.  This communication between souls is less about where one falls in a hierarchy of ability or value and much more about someone saying, "I've walked in your shoes  and the toes pinched me too."  Our pains are now understood.  And while understanding doesn't infuse more value into our suffering, it lessens the burden.  Often times when we suffer, we feel as though the challenge of suffering is exacerbated by the pain of misunderstanding and isolation.  Or, if we can find someone who understands, that person still may not be the person whom we want and need to understand and empathize.

Our society often treats pain in one of two ways: Be loud about it and get some recompense for the ways you've been victimized, or be quiet and grit your teeth and bear it.  I'd propose a third way.  Be honest without whining.  This summer, I have to be honest with my husband when I've pushed my body too far post-partum and need to rest.  But telling him every symptom and every frustration is far from helpful.  (That doesn't mean that I don't do that too on occasion...)  Sometimes your honesty can help another person or can get you help.  For instance, I asked another new mom yesterday how life was with her new little one.  She offered a tired smile and said, "Hard."  That led to a short conversation about babies with colic, and hopefully, she now has a few helpful tips and the knowledge that her baby is not the only one who thinks the evening should be a waking nightmare.  She didn't wallow in self-pity, but she was honest enough to get help.

Christ encouraged his leaders to serve (Matthew 20:16, John 13:14-17), and on the flip side, he encouraged those in lesser positions to lead and speak up (1 Tim 4:12).  It's within this joyful dynamic of service and communication that we learn and grow.  It is in reaching out to others with honesty and humility that we are best able to be effective in touching hearts and in receiving love.  (Hint: the receiving part is just as important as the giving part!!!) 

Christ became like us in all things but sin so that we would not just feel validated but be validated.  His sufferings actually did make our sufferings more valuable because we can unite them with His Sacrifice (Col 1:24).  In so far as we unite our daily joys and sufferings to His action, they can have infinite value.  And in His creation and salvation of us, we find our ultimate validation and worth.

Our world craves validation.  Facebook likes and comments, tweets and tumblr posts that trend and go viral, publication and re-blogs, pinterest followers, imgur points...  I read lots of Christian posts saying that we should reject these "fake" ways of affirming others and find our value in Christ alone.  I won't contest the ultimate truth of that statement.  But sometimes we also need to consider our role as Christ's workers in the vineyard.  Do we just help prune branches or do we fertilize as well?  We can be good at validating others by "liking" things they do and by complementing them (at varying levels of sincerity).  But do we affirm people by joining them in the good things they do, by letting them know when we share struggles in common, by allowing them to help us when we're weak, and by offering them any wisdom we've gleaned from a common experience?  I know--that stuff takes time, attention, effort, sacrifice, and humility.  "Liking" something on facebook takes none of those virtues.  But I notice that those who are surrounded by a community and family who validate and invest in these more essential ways do not struggle as much with the insecurities and social media addictions that plague the rest of our society.

To my dear friend: Thanks for admitting that labor was hard.  You may have thought it an admission of weakness, but your humility is one of your strengths.  That virtue will make you a wonderful mother.  And meanwhile, you left me feeling affirmed in my own vocation--not just because we both know it's hard, but because we both also know it's WORTH it.

2 Corinthians 12:8-10 (RSV) 
Three times I besought the Lord about this, that it should leave me;  but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong.

 

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Babies and Bombs: Bringing Out the Best in People

After a tragedy, there's always the balm of human charity and unity in the face of danger.  For every myopic idiot who waits outside an electronics store during a tornado in hopes of loot, there are 100 previously unknown neighbors who reach out to help each other remove tree limbs from driveways.  And somewhere, someone seems to hit the front page by heroically risking his or her life to save a puppy from violent acts of God, man, nature, or fate.

In fact, occasionally it strikes me that the only time we see authentic selflessness lauded in the public square is after a tragedy.  I begin to wonder if it's because people are too absorbed playing Angry Birds or something to see others and their needs.  Or maybe tragedy just brings out the best in people.

But, I was reminded recently that people are selfless and generous when they see something of value, something rare and unrepeatable, something that reminds them of the beauty of human life.  If our modern society lacks generosity, it may be because we no longer value anything.  There are no altars greater than our own selves before which we wish to offer homage.

And then I have a baby--my third.  And I dare to take the whole troop of these munchkins into public before the peanut is even 2 weeks old.  And I discover that the world that seems to want to contracept itself out of existence, the world that fears the responsibility of parenting a little being that is possibly more self-centered and temperamental than ourselves, is in awe of an infant.  Shopping anywhere takes me twice as long as before, not necessarily because of the extra little person in tow, but because of the adoration of the "wise men" of our world.  They stop in droves to adore my little one.  I feel a small touch of what Mary must have felt when the magi came and offered their gifts.  I'm overwhelmed by humble gratitude that this little one I received as a great gift to me can also by her very presence be a great gift to others.  She is a little sign of hope and peace (most of the time).

And so the Trader Joe's staff rush to give me free flowers (seriously, two of them at the same time), and the soap guy at the farmer's market gives me a free tub of shea butter for baby's delicate skin and mine.  Even guys at my husband's work sent gift cards our way.  My house has more flowers than a funeral parlor from people at my church, because people realize that the beginning of a life is just as significant as the end of one.  Our sweet smells, plastic gold, and precious ointments may not be quite the magi's gifts, but I think they carry similar sentiments.

I also recognize that many new moms do not receive this sort of outpouring of support.  It's a shame they don't.  They deserve it; the beauty of new life deserves it.  Similarly, not all communities demonstrate a proper value response to a tragedy. This neglect is not the result of human lives actually losing value, but of human hearts that have failed to see the value present in the hearts around them.

Some days my zealous self feels that I don't do enough and say enough to bolster our culture and our national sense of justice and goodness.  And other days, like today, I realize that sometimes the great work of cultural revival is as simple as taking my children to the grocery store.  Being is more important than doing after all.  And our presence is a greater gift than any tirade I can deliver to the deaf masses.

This Memorial Day, I challenge you to come together with family to celebrate the lives that have passed in heroic self-sacrifice for something those men and women valued--your life.  You can pay their gift forward daily by affirming the beauty of the lives around you and by sacrificing for the well being of strangers and family alike.  Our soldiers fight for our freedom--the freedom to do as we ought and to be the best we can be.  Live up to the hope they had in you.

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