I was re-reading Emmanuel Lartey the other day as he described classical pieces of pastoral care, and he wrote this about healing:

“The mystery is that we do not know God’s intention or the form in which God’s presence will take. This calls for openness and attentiveness.”

Being a part of God’s healing work as a caregiver–and care is a broad word admittedly–means seeing oneself as a participant in mystery. That means, in part, that every act can’t be specifically defined. Perhaps every act can’t even be described. There’s inherent humility in healing, isn’t it? At least, if you take the view that God is involved.

You live knowing that your behavior isn’t always translatable. You may rub against the ineffable, the indescribable. When you do, it helps to be humble. It helps to accept that “I can’t describe it” nature of what happened. It helps to pause, to feel the striking nature of care.

Real care leaves you thankful. It leaves you aware that you’ve been blessed and that you’ve benefited from something you may not be able to put into words.

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