The cost of compassion.

I blog. I read blogs. I am on Facebook. I am on message boards. And as a result I 'know' more sick, dying or dead children than I ever thought possible. Luckily, I also 'know' several formerly sick kids, and I rejoice in their healing and good health. But they were probably sick when I 'met' them.

You see the little messages all the time. The Tweets, the posts, the links; 'Pray for this child'. 'Please pray for this family'.

Of course, I want to help. If offering up a prayer is asked, I will. But in learning of these people, their stories, their struggles and miracles, I get drawn in. Of course I do. I am a mother. I am human.

I find myself checking on them daily. Occasionally offering a word of encouragement or support. And sometimes sending out that same message I saw, 'Please pray for this child'.

This is a good thing! The internet, the technology we have today makes the world smaller. I have heard from several parents that it gives them so much comfort to know there are several, dozens, hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands in some cases, thinking of them and praying for them. They feel love and compassion, support and encouragement. Yes, this is a good thing indeed.

Following these amazing stories of hope and healing also provides me with a reminder (as if I need one) of how blessed I am as a mother. Blessed to have healthy children. Blessed to have financial difficulties listed as my biggest problem. Blessed that my own chronic illness is neither in a fatal stage nor halting the rest of my life that goes on around me. These journeys also create awareness and even education about illnesses and conditions I may not have heard of. If it had not been for MckMama and Stellan, I would have been paralyzed with panic when I was diagnosed with SVT last year. I felt fully prepared to discuss the next steps.

But I have to admit, it is beginning to wear on me. There is always another child, another illness. Another vigil. Another death. It hurts my heart, each and every time. But what is the solution?

Step away from the computer. Pretty simple, I know. Not so much. For someone who is fairly socially stunted, social networking is my social network. It's not sad or pathetic, it's just what works for me. I could certainly benefit from spending less time online, but that would also mean walking away from people who are important to me.

I could also just stop looking, stop reading. Yet this doesn't feel quite right either. It feels like 'stop caring' or 'stop giving'. It doesn't feel right to stop offering love and encouragement to a stressed or grieving mom or dad just because it is hard for me to feel the hurt. If their story is online, it is there because they want people to know it and to know their child. In reaching out, they are asking for a hand to reach back.

This reminds me of my decades long struggle with wanting to become a nurse. I want to help, I just don't want to feel it. The eternal struggle of compassion. The verses in the Bible regarding compassion are certainly plentiful:

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn."
Romans 12:15

"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."
Galatians 6:2

"I went about mourning as though for my friend or brother. I bowed my head in grief
as though weeping for my mother."
Psalms 35:13-14

Just a scant few.

It feels right. To love. To care. To reach out. To pray.

It is tiring. It is difficult. It is sometimes burdensome. But it is right.