Windows to the Soul

I saw a very sad woman crossing the street the other day. She was facially disfigured, probably from birth, because it looked as if she had been born with little or no chin. I doubt plastic surgery could have helped her much, because it's hard to build something without the raw materials, in this case a jaw bone. But her congenital defect was not the first thing I noticed about her. She had one of the saddest pair of eyes I have ever seen. And it didn't look like fresh pain, or some recent injury to her soul. The grief I saw in her eyes looked as if it had been there all her life. I saw no bitterness or anger, although I suppose she had good reason to feel those things. No. I saw only an age-old struggle for peace.
I wondered if she had ever known a lover or a partner. If that young woman's face is one of those that only a mother can love, then surely her mother must love her fiercely.
The stranger's deep sadness unleashed a degree of compassion in me I didn't know I had. It reminded me of a similar experience I had many years ago when I was still a young woman myself. It was in the middle of winter as I walked down a city street, bundled against the cold. I noticed the figure of a girl approaching me, and a golden retriever walked closely beside her, without a leash. The dog walked so closely that he was leaning on the girl's leg. As the two friends came nearer, I could see the girl was terribly disfigured - an accident of some sort - burns which had left one whole side of her face scarred beyond recognition. Just as I passed those companions who clung so desperately to each other, a couple of adolescent males walked by. They laughed derisively and made some cruel comment which both she and I could plainly hear. Her eyes remained fixed straight ahead, gazing at some point in the distance, but they revealed a deep sorrow she had borne a long time. No doubt she had had many years of practise at avoiding people's stares, and no wonder her dog clung to her so protectively. All at once I realized that the devotion she got from her dog was probably some of the deepest affection she was going to receive her whole life. (That's not necessarily a bad thing. Dogs are the most loyal of animal companions.) Anyway, I fell apart.
I don't know why I'm writing about this at this time. It's a lovely spring day, the sun shines and I have much to be grateful for and enjoy. Maybe I'm writing this just to acknowledge other people's struggle and pain. Maybe it makes me feel better to take time to see into a stranger's soul and feel genuine compassion.
It's easy for me to feel concern for animals. I'm easily moved by the suffering of innocent creatures. But when a perfect stranger of the human kind causes me to feel empathy, I'm almost always surprised, and am momentarily ready to forgive the evil that humanity has inflicted on its own kind, as well as on this beautiful earth.
Having related these sad little stories on this little web of mine hasn't changed or improved the lives of the ladies I write about. It won't help them stop hurting. But it's changed me a little. Remembering them here has made me softer and more yielding; less judgemental. I'm grateful to those young women for stirring my soul. They have moved me to pray for those who hurt in body and spirit. I like to think that they are the kind of people who shall inherit the earth.
Amen and blessed be.
- G.P.