Palms, Starfish, & Compassion Fatigue

Photo by Mengliu Di from Pexels

When churches were shuttered on Palm Sunday two years ago, my dad, an Episcopal Deacon and Hospice Chaplain, ended up with boxes of Palm crosses he could no longer use. So he and I decided to walk the neighborhood, with him in a collar and PPE, to see if anyone wanted them. A lot of people did. 

It was a token or normalcy in the upside down world we suddenly found ourselves in. One woman, a soccer mom to her core, took several from us as though she were getting her coffee through a drive-thru window. We walked a little while longer and she drove back up.

Dad lightened the mood, “You didn’t get enough?”

The lady responded, “Well, I did not get one for my husband because he isn’t into the whole church thing, but he was jealous of our crosses and asked me to come back and get one for him.”

I handed her one more cross through the window.

“It's just not right to miss this.” As she said the words, a tear escaped, opening up the deepest parts of her heart to two strangers. “Nothing is right now. I haven’t seen my mom in weeks; she’s only a couple blocks away but they won’t let anyone into the senior living apartments. She could only stay there on her own because I would come and take care of a few things several times a week. I’m exhausted with worry.”

Her tears flowed freely. We listened, unable to even offer her the solace of a hug or a hand on a shoulder in her grief. It broke my heart.

“We listened, unable to even offer her the solace of a hug or a hand on a shoulder in grief. It broke my heart.”

In the weeks that followed, grief after grief started to leave me calloused. But then I remembered a sermon illustration I had heard years before: A man was walking along the beach in the early morning and saw that the tide had washed up hundreds if not thousands of living but barely surviving starfish. He began to pick up a starfish and throw it back as he continued his walk. One by one, starfish would splash into the ocean, given a chance now to survive.

Another man came along in the opposite direction and looked at the first man incredulously. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked. ‘You’re not making a difference, look at all the starfish left on the beach.’

Without pausing, the first man took a few more steps and picked up one more starfish. He looked at the stranger before tossing the starfish back to the sea’s life support. ‘It made a difference for that one.’

The story resonated deeply. I began to pray regularly in the morning, “Lord, show me my starfish.” I felt an immediate difference. The simple prayer and thought pattern change made me re-see that moment with the soccer mom — that we had touched her life, even in our limited capacity to help. It helped me show compassion and kindness as I went through my day. 

“I began to pray regularly in the morning, ‘Lord, show me my starfish.’”

I began to look for people to help, but I wasn’t overwhelmed by those who weren’t my starfish to toss back. But when someone photobombed my day, I could recognize them as a starfish and give them space, time, and a listening ear. 

I wasn’t being asked to be the world’s savior; I was asking God to ‘give me this day my daily bread,’ in a measure of kindness and love. Because it was a regular habit, I didn’t get overwhelmed as much by what was going on around me. I was looking for the people who needed me just that day, the moments of divine interruptions in just that day, the daily bread for just that day.

Encouraged by a friend of mine, I also started to end my day with another simple prayer: “God, help me release the trauma of the day.” That also made a huge difference. Losses didn’t pile up in my mind, the calluses on my heart seemed to dissipate and soften. I was able to love the person in front of me with full attention, but not to my detriment.

In short…

It takes discipline to keep short accounts and not let the weight of the world pile up, but it’s worth it to keep compassion fatigue at bay. I needed something concrete to pray in the midst of a world of chaos, and my starfish prayer reshaped so much. If you need that concrete token too, then I hope that the Lord will daily show you your starfish.