Accompaniment: Breathe In, Breathe Out

“Every human being has a true genuine authentic self. Trauma is the disconnection from it and healing is the reconnection to it.”

Gabor Mate, MD

There was a story that made its way around social media platforms about a kindergartener who returned from the bathroom exclaiming, “I pottyed” only his pants and underwear were still down around his ankles. The teacher stood up to celebrate, clapping and exclaiming, “Good job!” before helping the student pull up his pants and underwear.

Her response helped ALL of her students that day. For the learning disabled student, her acknowledgment of his accomplishment, made him feel seen. Celebrating with him made him feel a part of his class. Keeping her eyes on him and not what he failed to do, made him feel loved.

For her other students, she taught compassion. But she also built trust. If this teacher only saw her students for who they are and not for what they are able to do, then she is teaching/modeling accompaniment and unconditional love.

We talk about unconditional love a lot. But seeing it in action is a rare commodity. We are simply not good at it. That is why the story went viral. It is a rare gem. We want to be able to do it but often we just don’t know how.

In 12-step rooms, we learn to accompany. We try to love without condition. Folks walk in wounded all of the time. The type and severity of the wound varies from person to person. But we learn to hear and see them beyond judgment. We are able to do this because we too, have walked into a 12-step room, underwear around our ankles (metaphorically speaking) crying out because our life situation leaves us no other option than to walk through this very difficult door.

Listening to those who have violent, deep wounds is hard. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to say. And so you sit with them. You listen to them. It feels painful and uncomfortable. We are used to trying to fix. We like to give advice. In this room we learn to ‘sit on our hands.’

Many silently pray as the wounded vomits out hurt. Our inaction is an acceptance of our very first step--we are powerless. We are powerless over what they’ve been through. We are powerless over being able to fix what still hurts them today. We are just flat out powerless.

Even though we are powerless, something magical happens as with sit with our newcomers who walk in to unload their grief for the first time. We learn that when we stop trying to fix and control, we make space for God. In giving up our need to do something, we witness the power of God’s presence.

I learned an interesting tidbit when I read a piece on the Jesuit Post, written by Adam Bohan, SJ about a normal condition experienced by infants. Adam, a neonatal nurse and Jesuit talks about an infant, whose breathing becomes irregular and fast-paced. It is a normal condition called transient tachypnea. His response to the infant’s episode is to exaggerate his own inhalations and expirations to allow the infant’s breathing to unconsciously sync up to his.

I love what this phenomenon teaches me. If I simply sit with another person and breathe in calm and breathe out fear, I can help them regulate. My presence and my breath can help them become calm. A sense of calm can deliver them out of fear and help them to return to their essential self–the one God created.

Then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils, the breath of life and man became a living creature.

Genesis 2:7

I love seeing glimpses of God’s love in unexpected places. It confirms what I’ve been reading about trauma being healed collectively as a community. We were made for God and each other. I wonder will we will start to trust?