In my third year at L'Arche Daybreak, a community that welcomes people with disabilities and assistants who desire to share life with them, I learned that a new man was being welcomed to the community and that I would be spending my days with him. Michael was then in the hospital, and I was asked to visit with him. On the way to the hospital, I was nervous; when the elevator arrived at his floor, my nervousness turned to anxiety. I went into his room and saw this very frail young man, visibly uncomfortable. I just stood beside him, and as I grew still I was aware of my compassion for Michael.
When the relationship began all was well; however, the excitement I felt getting to know him waned, and supporting him each day started to take its toll. Michael's frailty made me aware of my own weaknesses. I could feel my heart closing up, which saddened me deeply.
Michael and I shared our days for four years, and during this time a radical shift took place in our relationship. It became evident that Michael was taking on the role of the compassionate one towards me. I have vivid memories of our looking into each other's eyes and with his smile Michael telling me: "You are OK; I still love you." I sensed that he knew I was struggling and was able to accept me with a compassionate heart.
The time came for our lives to take different paths, but what I learned through my relationship with Michael will stay with me. As we both created room for each other, we both were able to give to each other the definition of compassion.
by Lorenzo Sforza-Cesarini
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