I enjoy walking labyrinths. Labyrinths are maze-like structures that have been used as spiritual tools for centuries. There are many of them around, and I am in the habit of trying to visit a lot of them. For more information about labyrinths, check out The Labyrinth Society. Find where labyrinths are in your area at the Worldwide Labyrinth Locator.

I was in Illinois visiting my sister and her family, and I thought I’d try to get a few labyrinths in. This was my first ever labyrinth in the Central Time Zone! The Portiuncula Center for Prayer is a ministry of the Franciscan Sisters of the Sacred Heart in Frankfort. When I arrived at the sprawling campus, I was surprised to be greeted by a few people in the driveway. One of them said to me cheerfully, “Are you here for the Jubilee?” I surprised him in return, I think, when I said, “No, I was hoping to walk your labyrinth.” The men told me I’d have to park rather far away, and then walk over to the labyrinth. I said, “I’ve never been here before. Could you point me to where it is?” They spoke to each other a bit, and then one of them got in a golf cart and led me around the campus to a parking lot (not the far one he’d mentioned before), and told me, “the labyrinth is just over there.” I thanked him, found a spot, and wandered over. I had strong emotions swirling in me – I felt grateful for their hospitality and help, yet at the same time I felt guilty for taking them away from their duties of welcoming visitors to the Jubilee mass going on that morning. Plus, I felt awkward showing up at the exact time they were getting ready to hold a big celebration, and asking for help with something that I could have shown up for at any other time or on any other day.

But this tied in with the question I wanted to carry into the labyrinth. My sister and her family have been so gracious, generous, and welcoming to us these past few days, and I thought about how little I deserved that kindness from her, especially given how I treated her when we were children. I wondered if there was a way that I could learn to show compassion the way she does, and in particular a way that might tie in with who I am. Is there a particular way that I can use who I am to show compassion?

The labyrinth was gorgeous. It’s an 11-circuit Chartres replica, with a gravel path and brick walls. The bricks aren’t inlaid in the ground, but rise above the path a few inches, which gives it a really solid feeling. Some labyrinths feel like lines drawn on the ground – which is absolutely fine – but this one felt more 3-D.

As I walked, I quickly recognized that the question I was really asking wasn’t about how to be more like my sister, but how to relate to her – not so much how to better show compassion like her, but how to better show compassion to her. I wondered if there was some big gesture I could make while we were here. And the answer I got was no – that really wouldn’t be compassion. That would be trying to salve my own guilty feelings, and wouldn’t really help anybody. Rather, there was a way I could show compassion that absolutely tied in with who I am and the gifts I had – and it quickly crystallized in my head.

Two of the greatest gifts I’ve been given by God are the gift of deep self-awareness, and the gift of being about to communicate that to others. It’s something I’ve done in the writing of Darkwater, it’s something I do whenever I blog about labyrinth walks, and it’s something I do sometimes from the pulpit. When I mindfully talk or write about my own internal experiences, they sometimes have an impact on other people. Sometimes when I allow myself to be vulnerable and open, it can create a safe space for others to be open and vulnerable, if they wish to be.

And that, I think, is a particularly good way that I have to be compassionate with others. And it’s probably the best thing I can do with my sister. I can make time this evening, perhaps after all our kids go to bed, and ask to talk with her for a while. I can tell her how grateful I am for all she and her husband are doing for us this week, and also tell her how sorry I am for all the ways I mistreated her as a child. I can tell her that I would like to know if there’s any way that I continue to cause her pain or trouble as adults, and if so, ask how I can make amends. I can tell her that I struggle so much with the irrational thought that I cause people nothing but pain, but also that I know that I did cause her significant pain when we were children. (Seriously, I was not a very loving big brother.) I can tell her that it’s hard for me to know whether my feeling is accurate or not, especially when it comes to her, and tell her that I want to be a good brother now. And ask her how I can do that.

I think that conversation would mean a lot more to both of us than any big gesture I might try to make – and I think it’s something that I’m better at than big gestures anyway. And maybe this could be a model for how to care more about other friends and family as well – open up from time to time, and try to make space for them to be open as well, if they wish.