Llena de miseria

For those of you who read Spanish, the title line of this blog entry probably worried you a bit.  It translates in English to "full of misery," which probably sounds, well, miserable.

Actually, it is the full Latin translation of the word "misericordia", which is used in English directly as "mercy."

This week marks my fourth month in Savannah.  It feels like home here: I know my surroundings, my community, and my place of service comfortably well.  But for the past four months, I have been constantly searching for a definition of "mercy" that made sense for me within the context of the relationships here.

I actually stumbled upon this definition when I was reading something about the 30th anniversary of the martyrdom of the four American church women in El Salvador on December 2.  Although none of the women were Sisters of Mercy themselves, the publication was done by the Sisters of Mercy in the light of Advent.  (If you need something to inspire you to be more merciful, read about the lives of Ita, Dorothy, Maura, and Jean.)

And finally, things are starting to make sense for me.  I've seen a lot of "merciful" acts so far this year, with volunteers bringing volunteers for other volunteers at my clinic, with people wanting to support my community, with countless individuals being extremely patient with me, etc.  But I had a feeling I was missing something.

Now, with this new definition of "mercy" in my head, the picture is a lot clearer.  It can be summarized in the way I feel called to just sit and share in the suffering of the people who come to/call the Good Samaritan Clinic every day.  There are a lot of things that no one in my clinic can do for people other than just listen to them.  It's sometimes hard for me;  I get antsy to finish filing charts or sending faxes or responding to emails.  But I've become aware of the fact that if I am really supposed to be here as a Mercy Volunteer, then my biggest service to people has to be just being present.

This concept of mercy sounds kind of miserable, but that's not how I feel.  Instead, I feel completely full of joy in understanding further each day how I am uniquely related to every other human being.  Of course I get sad and frustrated on a regular basis, but sharing in peoples' sorrows also means sharing in peoples' joys.  And through my own struggles and successes, I've become quite accepting of the way that everyone has both in life and that everyone deserves to share both with people who care.

Hmm...looks like I've also started to further define "solidarity" for myself in this attempt to sort out my thoughts on mercy.