How Pain Can Help You See Things More Clearly

It can help you see what truly matters

The day after my grandfather died, I remember driving to school and feeling numb. I remember how as I drove I didn’t feel the need to rush like I normally did. I wasn’t trying to beat the yellow light (which I had done a few weeks earlier only to run a red light and ironically get hit by another driver running a red light a few streets later). I didn’t race to get in front of another car.

I remember not feeling the need to do any of those things because in that moment of suffering none of those things mattered.

What mattered was that my grandfather was gone. What mattered was that my mom and my family were in pain. What mattered were the memories I still had of him.

My grandfather lived in Egypt so I only saw him in the summers. I don’t have a lot of memories of him but one of my most vivid and beloved memories was when he taught me to draw faces with symmetry.

He was a brilliant artist. I remember him sitting next to me and teaching me that the distance between the hairline and eyebrows, the eyebrows to the bottom of the nose, and the bottom of the nose to the chin, should all be the same. The space between the eyes should be the same as the length of the eye. The ear should be the same length as the nose. You’re probably testing that on your face right now, aren’t you? I do it occasionally when I remember him.

I remember his thick reading glasses and his library full of books. He graduated from law school but worked as a police chief, a fact I learned only after going to law school.

Even though he was in a position of power he refused the perks he was offered. He wanted to be treated the same as everyone else. He was an honorable and honest man.

He always dressed to the nines any time we went to a cafe on the water, a favorite past-time in the Mediterranean city of Alexandria where he lived. He sported a fedora, a double-breasted vest, and had a cane which he made look cool.

He was the kindest man. Someone who impacted everyone he met in a good way. One of my cousins told me that as he carried my grandfather’s coffin it felt light and is if it were being pushed forward. In our faith tradition that means the angels were helping to carry it.

There’s so much pain in the world right now. It seems like everyone I know is struggling in one way or another. Struggles with parenting during a pandemic. Struggles with finding a job. Struggles with health issues. Struggles with depression. The list goes on.

Everyone is struggling somehow. And those are only people I know. There are so many others struggling in unimaginable ways. People struggling through civil war and famine. People suffering from racism and oppression. Every day. Everyone is struggling with something.

It’s hard to understand why God might let so much pain happen. I can’t rationalize it. I don’t know if we’re meant to, to be honest. But I do know that when I’m suffering, what’s important becomes clear.

The small petty things don’t matter anymore. Because it’s the big things that become clear — our health, our relationships, our humanity.

When I’m hurting it doesn’t matter if someone cuts me off on the road. Those small slights that maybe on a better day I might pay attention become too small to matter.

Maybe we aren’t supposed to understand why painful things happen. Maybe instead we’re meant to use that pain to find clarity.

Clarity on what matters. Clarity on who matters. If we can carry that clarity into our better days, maybe we can prioritize the things that matter every day, not only on the days we’re in pain.