A student recently approached me at the University Writing Center where I work because he wanted my suggestions on an essay for an English course. He chose to write about his experience with his mother, who had told him repeatedly that she hates him. Through great struggles of her own, he described how she also had not been able to secure support or a stable place for him to live for a number of his 19 years. Remarkably, he presented his essay by asking if he could read his story to me, telling me he does not write to gain another’s pity. He gave some details of his life, but also his judgment on how to respond. Being the star athlete and diligent student that he is at the university, he talked about how “I might as well do the work; I am here,” because he wanted so desperately for his mom to recognize him and somehow love him. He wrote that he did not know happiness and that he does not cry anymore because crying is a “sign of weakness.” He drew a connection between this burden and how he has been unable to completely forgive his mother. The very burden he carries comes from his restricted response to the one who once carried him. Before this student who has such an elementary lack of love shown to him in his life, that of the love of a mother for her son, I was speechless at first. I recognized just how valuable it is for me to not only know the purpose for which I work (out of my love of Another) as a student and a tutor myself, but also to know the original people who have led me to make my work my most personal prayer. The friendship of the Movement has allowed this way of seeing my own mother and so many others to change. After seeing the love so many have shown me, I cannot remain silent. For this student, I could honestly respond that “He’s going to show me even more than I see,” even in the most despairing of circumstances.

Julie Lasher, Indianapolis (USA)