When The World Stands Still

Throughout life, we are presented with many moments that define us. These moments can be good ones that take our breath away at the mere remembrance of them. Or, they can be the kind that knock the wind out of you, and leave you gasping for years.

This week was made up of the latter. On Monday, my mom’s doctor called me, which was unusual in itself, and I first missed the call because I was in a meeting. When I listened to her voice mail, I sent her a text message to give me a call back and she promptly called me. Working in healthcare, I know that when the doctor calls you after a test, it’s usually not to tell you that everything is fine.

And, well, it wasn’t fine. She relayed the results of Mama’s recent CT scan that was done to figure out why she is having so much difficulty breathing. The x-ray didn’t show infection and her bloodwork didn’t show an increase in her heart failure rate, so we were somewhat at a loss. The CT, however, showed that she has an extremely large mass on her right lung that extends into her lymph nodes, as well as a smaller mass on the left lung.

I suddenly had my own bout of difficulty breathing. I furiously wrote notes as she talked and relayed the next steps–a PET scan, a pulmonologist, and an oncologist. It was too many “gists” for me to comprehend. I suddenly became unable to distinguish the English language. The world stood still.

I suspected the reason for my mom’s weakness and shortness of breath. I had even prepared myself, or so I thought, to receive bad news. But, that was before the phone call and before the reality kicked in. I don’t think we are ever poised enough to receive life altering news, no matter how prepared we believe we are.

But, while the world stood still for me, it whirred normally for everyone else around me. The noise of the news still ringing in my head, the demands of the day didn’t stop. The emails didn’t stop. The phone calls didn’t stop. Yet, I was stuck in time at 9:16 a.m. on January 6, 2025. People were talking to me and I managed replies but I don’t know what I said. People followed up relentlessly about requests for me to do one thing or another, yet I was frozen in a moment. The world stood still.

My story isn’t unlike many others. Bad news comes, we are stunned, and somehow, some way, we move forward. When we know that someone is going through the fire and trials of this life, we typically become more tender and compassionate. We give them grace because they need it. Most of us do, anyway. It feels good to be on the receiving end of grace when we are faced with turbulent times in our lives. But compassion isn’t meant to live on reserves.

Compassion for others is meant to be handed out like a business card from an eager salesperson. It’s not meant to be stored away in a closet, meant to be used only when times get tough or when we are happy enough to bestow it. If there is one thing that gets you to reexamine your application of compassion, it is how you are treated when you need compassion and grace the most — even in the seemingly good times of your life.

My life has been a series of hills and valleys, some more treacherous than others. I’ve watched how people treat me when they don’t know squat diddly about my life, and the sudden change when they realize that I’ve been going through a struggle. Why can’t the compassion be distributed the same? I’ve even seen times when people thought my life was going great, so they withheld compassion because somewhere they got the notion that I’d met my quota. The mere fact that Jesus died on a cross was a message to tell us that we will never, ever meet our quota of grace and compassion.

Through all of this, I see my own culpability in withholding compassion and grace. I see my own lack of empathy and I want to do better. I want to be the person that I want others to be towards me, and not just when the world stands still. I’ve been working on that version of myself and I’ve tried to recognize pain when I see it. And, when I do, I acknowledge it. Because sometimes all we need is for another human to recognize, without us having to pour out the sorrows of our souls, that we are hurting. We want someone to pay that much attention to the world around them that they extend a kind word, a helping hand, or just someone to walk beside them in solitude until the world isn’t hurting as bad. Joy is much easier to recognize, and reward. Pain is a beast we all try to avoid. It’s uncomfortable and we don’t want to give it too much attention lest it find us.

I’m not asking for a pity party. I’m asking that we all examine the world around us a little more careful, with more clarity. Just because it is not your day for the world to stand still doesn’t mean it isn’t coming. Just because you are on the mountain doesn’t mean the valley isn’t ahead. But most importantly of all, just because you are in the valley, it doesn’t mean that the mountain and all its victory isn’t just a step away.