The Weight of an Empty Village

In April of 2018 I spent many odd hours on my phone scanning social media. I had a one-month old baby at home who was still unconcerned with learning to sleep during the evening rather than the day, so it had become an exhausting routine for me to change and feed the baby and catch up on the news at 12am, 3am, 6am, and so on. During one of these foggy scroll sessions I first learned about the separation of families at the border. It broke my heart. This little baby in my arms was difficult, tiring, and had left my body an absolute mess- but to think of not having him near me left me shattered and on the verge of tears.

I was not alone in my feelings that April, nor was I alone in my deep sadness over the stories of children dying along the border this week. My usual internet stops were covered in statements about horrible conditions in detainment camps, photos of children crying, images of smiling children accompanied by the story of how they died in detention, and the stark image of a drowned father and daughter. I have been outraged. I have contacted my representatives, provided resources for donations to friends, and encouraged my pastor friends to preach on the issue. It is not much, but it’s something.

And yet, the images still haunt me and leave me physically exhausted and mentally-emotionally traumatized. I struggle to stay awake during the day and struggle to sleep at night. I find myself on the verge of tears when children are discussed and, each time an article leads with photos of bodies, I feel my stomach lurch. These are the signs that I have come to recognize as Vicarious Trauma.

Traditionally, Vicarious Trauma (sometimes called by names like Compassion Fatigue) is the result of working closely with those who have experienced a direct trauma. But social media and the vast accessibility of the 24-hour news cycle open up a gap that traditional understandings of trauma or Vicarious Trauma do not address. We may not be direct witnesses, but we are certainly exposed in a way that reaches us in the depths of our humanity.

I have found that this is particularly difficult for people who have committed their careers to the church. We are taught that our work is a calling from God, a deep metaphysical need in the world. Depending on the person this can manifest in a great sense of ego or humility, but regardless it begins to shape an understanding of service in all aspects of life. Being called into ministry is not just a full-time job, but often it is viewed as a way of life. It can feel as though there are no breaks when you are called to serve God and thus we constantly view the world through Christ-tinted glasses. This can be a beautiful thing when we seek to see God in all people, to uplift justice-whether it be in our shopping habits or in organized advocacy, or when we aim to engage with others from a standpoint of compassion and love. But we are human. There are days where it is hard to put the glasses on. Especially when we look through the lenses and still we do not see the promise of God’s world, but instead view the pain of human suffering. In our daily tasks of opening up a news app or updating the church’s Facebook page, we see images of sins that feel impossible to address. In these moments our human infallibility leaves us hardened and deeply hurt by the trauma of merely living in a world so full of hate.

Church people really love to push that aside. Our rhetoric turns towards the hope to which we cling. Our stories center around our God, the one that does the impossible time and time again. But hope and the power of God do not erase the very real impact of Vicarious Trauma on our minds, our emotions, our bodies, our relationships, and even on our ministry. There is healing that needs to be done. But, how do we heal when the voices in need of help are calling out from every direction?

What we suffer from when we cannot find the time to heal is the lack of our village. It is impossible to do this thing alone. Not just because of the vastness of inequity that must be addressed, but because as finite and fragile beings we cannot handle the weight of the world on our own. We need our villages to rest, to heal, and to find relief in knowing that we are not diminishing the fight every time we need to take a break because someone else will be there doing the work alongside of us.

This is not a comment on the bigness of God,
after all God is the one who made us to be relational.

It is not a comment on your ability to live out God’s call in your life,
after all God is the one who made us to be relational.

Where we run into difficulty is two-fold. We are too proud, scared, disconnected, or whatever-else to let go and take a break to heal ourselves. But, there is also the reality that our village seems to be falling down around us. There are not people on whom we can rely to pick up the work when we step back. This lack of community and support is in and of itself a form of trauma.

So where does that leave us?
I don’t know.
We have a major overhaul in store if we want to live into God’s world. Creating a village isn’t something that we can do on our own, but it is something we can begin with just a few like-minded souls who are willing to care and to be cared for.

All this to say:

If you are feeling traumatized because of the state of the world and have felt the pressure to belittle your feelings because it’s not “real” trauma, your feelings are valid.

If you are feeling overwhelmed and need to heal yourself, do not feel guilty or like you are failing your call, your community, your God.

If you feel grounded and stable, look for those in your village whom you can give a break.

We really can make it through, but we must do it together. Because it takes a village.

Omwana takulila nju emoi (Bunyoro)
A child does not grow up in only one home
Omwana taba womoi (Bahaya)
A child does not belong to one parent or home
Omwana ni wa bhone (Wajita)
Regardless of parents, a child’s upbringing belongs to the community
Asiye funzwa na mamae hufunzwa na ulimwengu (Swahili)
Whomsoever is not taught by the mother, will be taught with the world.

It takes a village to raise a child.[i]

[i] Thanks, Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It_takes_a_village