Marie thought about the many times she'd repented before the Lord asking forgiveness for her insensitivity toward the pain of others. It's so easy to make light of another person's pain when you're on the outside looking in she thought. Especially when you've experienced the same conditions with little or no effect. Experience had taught her that everyone doesn't have the same amount of strength. She remembered a day when her co-worker Merna had come to work fighting back tears. Concerned, Marie asked her if she'd like to talk. Between sobs, Merna explained that the night before, her husband chose to go out with his friends and come home late rather than spend quality time with her as he had promised. Because Merna had been so excited about their time together and had made a special dinner, she was especially hurt. Though Marie had given words of encouragement, in her mind she was thinking, girl, is that it? Is that all? Shucks --that's nothing to get your underwear in a knot about.” Later that same evening, Marie found herself sitting in her car in her driveway watching the neighbor's children play. When the children's father came barreling out of the house headed for his car suit jacket in hand, the littlest boy, with football in hand, pleaded with the man, “Daddy, can you come play with me?” The father turned and smiled at the boy without breaking his stride, tossed his jacket on the passenger's seat of the car, and drove away. The broken look on the child's face sent Marie into her house heavy in spirit. She threw her keys and lunch bag on the love seat and hastily made her way to her bedroom to meet with God. She'd had every intention of sharing with Him how she had just been affected. Marie retrieved her journal and sat in the presence of her God. Before she could utter a word, God said, “Your insensitivity today has incited me to give you this.” Marie began to write: My Pain I sit here by this window, looking out from space; Heavily, heavily laden by the sadness in this place. I see little children playing outside in the street; One child yells to Daddy, “won't you come to play with me?” The father comes outside, dressed for his own games to play; Throws his things in the van, and simply drives away. The child starts to cry and falls down to the ground; He's left alone in his pain, with no comfort to be found. A housewife is all excited about the special dinner that she's made; She stands back and marvels --the table is beautifully arrayed. She stops by a mirror, pushing a hair into place; She's anxious because honey is coming home --there's a smile upon her face. The candles are burned down and the dinner no longer is hot. She glances up to see the time --exactly twelve o'clock. She hears the keys rattle, sees honey stagger through the door; He looks at her, hiccups, and bothers to say no more. “Mom, I need some help with this. I don't know what to do.” “Girl, I don't have time. I'm going out. Let someone else help you.” She throws the papers to the floor and flops down in a chair. “Oh, mommy is never here for me; she doesn't really care.” He'd been on the job for fourteen years, a man who everyone admired. When layoffs came around, he was the first one that they fired. Looking around the waiting room, some held him as he cried. His best friend and wife of seventy years, closed her eyes and died. He stands up on the bridge looking down below. “The loneliness in this life is so great; I'll end this life --I know. He looks around him grasping for one last hope. “I see this as the only way,” he said through sobs that choked. He looks down at the rocks, and then to the sky above. He jumps from the bridge shouting, “All I wanted was love!” Marie read, re-read, and re-read again what she'd written. Oh, the tears that flowed as she recognized her own insensitivity to Merna's pain. How many other times she'd done the same? Worse yet, how many times had she laughed with others at someone else's pain or troubles? Closing her eyes, she pictured a portion of scripture that she'd read many times: “The Lord is gracious and full of compassion” (Psalm 111:4). Thinking about the Lord's compassion, Marie decided she'd do a study on the compassion of Christ. Because of the Lord's compassion and her own insensitivity, she knew she'd have to listen to the music that chastisement would play. She knew that the poem was just the beginning of correction from the Lord, but this she welcomed. With much sorrow and full of repentance, she picked up her pen, concluding what the Lord had given her: My pain may be different than the pain you feel. Every pain has a hurt, and this I know is real. No matter how great the pain, no matter how very small, Pain has introduced itself to us, one and all. Never make fun of what pains a person's heart; For pain the size of a pin's head, can tear a world apart. Slipping back from her memory, Marie laughed as she said to God, “Between, the poem and the words you spoke about being like Jesus --you sure wore out my hips that evening Lord.” “I did indeed Marie,” the Lord laughed. “In my opinion Lord, the poem was chastisement enough. But oh no --you had to choose to take me through the Gospel of Jesus Christ and show me how Jesus was sensitive to the hurts and pains of the people who came to Him regardless of how great or small the pain. Thanks for doing that Lord. You always know what is best.