Everybody Hurts

Was listening to an R.E.M. album today, and heard a song I hadn't listened to in a long time. My friend Carina likes to call this music-to-kill-yourself-by:

When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on
Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes...

I was having a perfectly fine "me" day yesterday, shopping all by myself ("I wanna be...all by myself..."), enjoying the luxury of a free afternoon with no one and nothing to be concerned about, stocking up on books and repleneshing beauty products, picking up a graduation gift for my little sister, when, right in the middle of the madding crowd, my inner being went into slow motion and stilled. You know, just like one of those TV commercials where the main character goes into low gear while the rest of the world rushes past at 124235453254 rpm. It was a weird feeling - it's just like when you've had an aching tooth pulled, and although the painful member is no longer there, the empty space it used to occupy is possessed by a vague echo of the suffering that no longer is. And the ghostly pangs, while no longer fatally harmful, are familiar enough that you half-expect old agonies to consume you once again.

How strange is that? Even in the joy of this life in the Lord, old torments - and perhaps new ones - still raise their threatening head once in a while. I suppose that our daily "release" and survival is in how we respond and bear these crosses we need to take up, and how much of these burdens we cast upon the Lord. I know I need to have the "holes" in my heart plugged on a regular basis - and He has never disappointed whenever I take these hurts to Him and offer them up, even as He has already been hurt more than we can imagine. Sometimes I am shamed to burden Him even more with my constant and relatively trifling tribulations, but He always seems to be willing to kiss the littlest bruises and scrapes away, what more the festering wounds of my soul?

In Mass last night, aware of the "echoing hurts," I presented to Him all my infirmities, all the wounds that needed - and continue to need - healing. And He showed me His hands - the hands of a healer, gentle hands that shaped the earth and knit me in my mother's womb, but hands that were wounded so brutally just so they could free me from eternal damnation. My Healer is Himself wounded, as are all of us, but through His touch I am made well again, I am made whole. A reminder of how all of us, despite being broken, shattered in a million pieces inside, have been held together by His Healing Grace in order to reach out and heal others' wounds. We are broken to make each other whole, just as our God allowed Himself to be for our sakes.

Earlier yesterday I was telling - perhaps even complaining to - a sister about the "burden" for others that I carry. I now understand why this burden is in fact a blessing; I am thankful that despite my own woundedness, the Master has allowed me opportunities to rise above my selfish introspection and focus my concern on others He has sent my way. I pray I never complain again - may I learn to love the way He loves.

'Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone...

We are not alone. We have each other - we are burdens of each other. And we have the One Necessary Friend who knows exactly how we feel, whatever kind of pain we're going through...because He's been there, done that.