Context Matters

Context matters.

It’s obvious, isn’t it?

But why do we, why do I, forget it so easily?

I made a friend cry today.

It wasn’t my intention, but I did.

Being the carrier of news less than positive, and delivering it at a time when she is mourning her mother dying before her very eyes, I made her cry.

Of course she cried.

But why did I carry anything but love and gentleness to her today, of all days?

My only defense is that I forgot.  I knew, but I forgot . . . forgot how very vulnerable she is right now . . . forgot her needs in the felt needs of others . . . forgot that her context matters too.

Of late, I find myself explaining people to each other . . . not their motives – their context.  And somehow, the learning of the context of shared human suffering makes detente, if not full out reconciliation, possible when it seemed impossible before.

Context matters.

When I am frustrated with someone almost beyond words, I am reminded of their struggles, of the pain they carry.  That pain may have nothing at all to do with my frustrations, but knowing that they struggle too somehow makes the frustrations of the moment seem like what they are . . . trivialities in the face of the enormity of life.

I hate that I forgot my friend’s context of pain.