What We May Not Know

This week, many emotions have been moving through my spirit. After attending a family funeral in St. Croix, I returned home carrying both the weight of loss and a cold that kept me in bed for several days. I wanted to keep moving, but my body required rest. By Thursday evening, as I began to recover, I realized how deeply the week had affected me, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

The evening before, I was confronted with a situation that frustrated me to my core, and I needed to address it. My feelings were deep and real, but I could sense them moving me in the wrong direction. I paused to consider how I could be direct and assertive without speaking from a place of irritation.

I expressed my concerns by text. However, when I spoke with the individual, I learned that she was a single mother fighting for custody of her child. I immediately saw her differently, and my compassion kicked in. Beyond my frustration, I realized that I was speaking with a mother who was carrying fear and concern for her child. Had I lashed out without reflecting, I could have added stress to someone already carrying a heavy burden.

Earlier in the week, I had written Thursday’s devotion about handling frustration. As I reviewed it on Wednesday evening in preparation for posting, I was amazed by its relevance and by how directly it spoke to me.

The takeaway from the devotion was a reminder not to let frustration dictate how we respond. There I was, reading words written to encourage others, while God used those same words to remind and encourage me. I had to laugh at myself. God already knew I needed that message long before I knew I needed it. He surely has a sense of humor.

I thought about Jesus and the Samaritan woman in John 4. Others saw a woman whose life could be judged by what appeared on the surface. Jesus knew her whole story. He did not ignore the truth, but He spoke with dignity and compassion. He looked beyond the moment and recognized her deeper need.

Jesus reminds us that truth and compassion do not have to compete. We can address difficult situations honestly while remembering that every person has a story we may not understand, or need to know.

This lesson touched me deeply because this has also been a week filled with loss. Several people have passed away, people from my personal life and members of my church community. Their loved ones, families, and friends now face grief, painful adjustments, and empty spaces that cannot easily be filled.

Once again, I was reminded that we cannot always see what another person is carrying. Someone may be grieving, recovering from illness, worried about finances, or fighting quietly for their family. A single mother may appear strong while carrying responsibilities, fears, and decisions that leave little room for rest.

This week has held various forms of frustration, correction, recovery, grief, and concern for others. Yet God has been present through it all. He met me while I was sick, spoke to me through my own devotion, and reminded me to look beyond what I could see.

We may not understand everything happening in another person’s life, but we can move gently. We can pause before responding, listen before assuming, and allow compassion to guide our words. Grace pauses long enough to remember that every person may be carrying a burden we cannot see.

Pearl’s Prayer:

Father, teach us to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and careful with one another’s hearts. Comfort every family grieving a loved one. Strengthen those recovering from illness. Remember single mothers in a special way. Provide for their needs, protect their children, guide their decisions, and remind them that they are not alone. Help us speak truth with compassion and respond with grace, especially when we do not know the whole story. In Jesus’ name, amen.

I am the Vessel. God is the Grace.