Whatever your weakness

Two women cry in the corner of a large room with tall windows and one hundred people.

Five minutes ago, I drew a large circle in the air in front of the group, saying it was ego: trauma, shyness, emotional baggage, selfishness—everything we surround ourselves with to keep others from reaching the small inner circle: our true self.

“In this exercise,” I said, “You have five minutes to find the inner circle of the person sitting next to you.”

They scatter to tables and chairs and hallways, and two women cry together in a large room with tall windows, hands on shoulders and hugging, find something.

I walk over, listen, and ask if they would be comfortable sharing with the group what they shared with each other.

“Both of our fathers left the family when we were kids,” said one of the women, voice trembling into a microphone. “We knew each other before this, but we didn’t know that. The hurt that causes—you spend the rest of your life trying to prove to people you’re worth sticking around for, trying to find a place where you’re wanted.” They talk about their community work makes them feel like they’ve found that place.

I thank them, hug them, and the group claps to hug them, too.

“These two women can build a community in a way that most of us can’t because of a hurt they carry that most of us don’t,” I say. “Understanding the feeling of being left behind? I don’t want to call it a ‘superpower’ because it is a burden they carry. But how many people, in every one of our communities, simply need someone to say, ‘I know how it feels to not be included, to be left behind, to be lonely? But we want you here, and I want to be here with you. They can understand people in their community in ways that we can’t.

A hurt? Absolutely. But also a gift.”

Loneliness, feelings of inadequacy, shame, sadness: your weakness can be your gift to the world.

Off to South Carolina.