During my preparation for ministry, in my first day on the floor as a summer hospital chaplain, I watched the doctors crack open a man's ribs so they could get to his heart. It was in pulmonary intensive care. His bleeding from gunshot wounds had gotten out of control. Later, as I was getting to know the patient, the sight of his beating heart was always present for me.

Years ago, in another congregation, after years of a relationship with one congregant, I learned that she had lost a young adult son to mental illness. She rarely shared this with others, so most people did not know. Later, when I had a child, she was one of the first to wish me well and share with me her own sense of the joy of being a parent. What a gift to receive her good wishes, knowing her pain.

A friend recently became part of Alcoholics Anonymous. In his process of recovery, he shared some of his disappointment in where he had gotten in his life. His new commitment to making healthy decisions for himself looks even more courageous to me in light of the stories he shared.

It is a lens we are sometimes privileged to have. Seeing someone in the light of their vulnerabilities. In my experience, that light softens things, it focuses in its way, highlighting features I might not have otherwise noticed.

What if we could use that light in all of our relationships and interactions? The light of understanding that "everyone is fighting some battle," that each of us deserves tenderness and generosity.

This month, as we explore vulnerability, I invite you to put on this lens. Go through your day, at least one day, looking more deeply than usual. Remembering that in that chest is a fragile, beating heart. Under the defenses may be a boatload of pain. And in each person, great courage.

Yours,
Mary Katherine