I learned early on to avoid being vulnerable. It’s not safe. If you spend any time with groups of children you’ll quickly discover what happens to kids who show their vulnerability. They are judged, ridiculed, possibly rejected and most likely shamed. Better to appear strong, capable, independent and in control.

As I grew it became clear that good things came from strength, striving, good planning and good choices. And then one day it hit, that despite all the good choices, all the accomplishments and effort, some things happen that are completely out of my control. I hate that.

I prefer the idea that if I just do all the right things, life will work out. I mostly live within the illusion of being in control. That works well – until it doesn’t.

VulnerabilityMy friend Steve is strong, fit, and capable and makes lots of good choices. A month ago he was boogie boarding in Hawaii when a big wave smashed him into the ground. He was hurt. The x-ray that confirmed broken ribs also showed a suspicious spot that upon follow up, turned out to be cancer.

Suddenly life felt out of control. Plans were thrown out the window to make way for surgery and then chemo. My husband and I stood by, in shock, trying to come to grips with this new reality. We were reminded that despite the best plans, waves can come out of nowhere and knock us off our feet and smash our illusion of being in control. So how are we supposed to cope?

I start by revisiting vulnerability. I don’t welcome it with open arms, because it still comes with baggage – fear of loss, disappointment, rejection, abandonment, judgment – and even still a little bit of shame as I feel weak and less than. But I’ve discovered a sweetness to vulnerability that I never saw in my youth. With vulnerability comes a type of beauty, love and connection that can’t otherwise be experienced.

The day after Steve’s surgery my husband and I went to visit him. We walked into a hospital room filled with so much love it brought me to tears. Our strong friend, looking vulnerable in his hospital gown and hooked up to all kinds of tubes, was beaming. His daughter had just flown in from Eastern Europe and was laying her head on his chest, letting him know verbally and nonverbally how much she cherished him. His wife, kids, and mother were by his side. Visitors poured into his room.

My friend in his vulnerable state had the blessing of knowing how loved he is. If he hadn’t been knocked down by that wave, would he have ever experienced that kind of love, compassion and caring from so many people? I wonder how many people live their whole lives without knowing how much they’re truly loved and cared about? Steve knows.

In moments of vulnerability I’ve discovered a profound beauty in the grace that befalls others and me. Someone, somehow in some way shows up to help. This is astonishing! When I pay attention I see it happening in big and little ways all the time. Just one of many examples happened on the Camino, when strangers showed up to help me cope with the blisters that were threatening my ability to continue the journey. So many people tended to my feet in a myriad of ways. It was humbling, moving and heart opening to be cared for like that, when I was feeling so vulnerable and defeated.

As beautiful as that experience was, I honestly don’t think I can ever welcome the waves that crash into my life. And yet I’m beginning to see how some of the waves that first appear to smash me down may actually be coming to help. The wave that hit my friend Steve allowed him to discover the cancer early – probably saving his life.

Here’s the thing about waves. They throw me off course, shake things up and cause me to look at life from a new upside down underwater perspective. As uncomfortable as this is, it usually leads to slowing down and reordering my priorities. The crash brings an awareness of living in the present as I cope – moment to moment.

Ultimately the vulnerability that results from being hit by life’s waves invites movement away from the external events of life to a greater focus on the internal journey. Being vulnerable invites a deeper connection with others, with the soul, with grace and the mystery of the Divine. It’s that connection that increasingly becomes the focus, the destination, as I continue to walk the path.

Questions to Ponder:

What waves have shaken up your life and reordered your priorities?

What gifts, if any, have you discovered in moments of being vulnerable?