Pain And Suffering Are Not the Same

If you broke your arm, you’d be in pain. After receiving medical attention (pain relievers, cast, maybe a sling), you’d be in much less pain, but suffering might come next.

You’d suffer because the cast will get in the way of many things you take for granted. Your arm will itch, and satisfaction will be difficult to find. People will constantly be asking what happened. Sleeping positions become awkward and will require accommodation for this newly wrapped appendage.

In this scenario, pain comes first, then suffering begins. All this comes to an end when the cast is removed. Pain and the inconvenience and challenges of suffering expire with the reinstatement of what we call normal.

However, the above process does not always reflect reality.

• What if physical pain does not come before suffering?
• What if suffering becomes the beginning of the cycle?
• What if ‘normal’ never comes at all?

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Yesterday’s World

Leah was nine when her world changed from colored chalk drawings on pavement to whispered fears behind curtains. Her neighbors stopped waving, her father stopped smiling, and her school desk sat empty more days than full. At night, she asked why they couldn't light candles anymore. With a sadness Leah had not seen before, her mother held her tighter while humming childhood lullabies that sounded more like prayers. The sounds of boots and broken glass replaced bird song, and Leah learned to silence joy so it wouldn’t be noticed. She did not know why she was different—only that the difference made her invisible, hunted, and no longer safe.

Each time a friend vanished, the silence grew louder. And Leah clung to stories—not fairy tales, but the memories of shared bread, laughter under stars, and her grandmother’s voice saying they were loved. She carried those fragments like lanterns in a dark wood, believing that somewhere, someday, someone would find them still flickering, still glowing, and know they mattered. (A CoPilot-generated story)

Today’s World

My name is Mateo, and I am ten years old. I grew a lot this year, almost 3 inches! I love soccer, and I was looking forward to finally getting on the school team this year; A dream come true! But my dad said only, “We’ll see.”

I didn’t understand. I’m big enough and I’ll be in the 5th grade this fall. My friends called me a ‘shoo-in for the team this year!”

I did my chores. I watched my younger sister, Camilla, when Mami and Papi needed me to. I helped with folding clothes, too! I never messed up. Well, I have to be honest. Yes, I did get in trouble, but not very often.

But I understand now.

This morning, I looked out of the kitchen window because I heard sirens. It was early, and the sun was only beginning to chase away the shadows of night. There’s a place across the street where my dad and other men from our neighborhood wait for buses to take them to the fields where they work.

But today, my father is in his room. He didn’t go to the bus stop. That’s not like him. He’s been working at the same farm for many years, and I can’t remember when he didn’t stand under the overhang with the others waiting for the work bus.

Mami is angry because we need milk, and he won’t go to the store either. He shuffles out of his room with drooping shoulders and says, “Not today, cariño.”

But I understand now.

From behind the curtains, I see the police cars with their flashing lights. It’s kind of crazy out there. I noticed a few horses too. I’m a little scared. I’ve never seen automatic weapons before, and those big guys are all in dark clothes and masks. Mami whispers, “Mateo! Get away from those windows. Rápidamente!”

Camilla is crying. She’s little, but she knows something is wrong. She’s scared, too, and doesn’t know why. We try to comfort her and keep her quiet. We can’t draw attention to ourselves.

Papi has always been a proud man. He works hard for his family. But today, he looks smaller. Seeing him like this frightens me. In a quiet voice, he says, “Mateo, I was always afraid this day would come. We made a life here, a good life! We worked hard to raise you well and to provide for you and your sister. But today, I think it is all coming to an end. Changes are coming quickly. I need you to understand something. There is a day coming when I might not come home. There might be a day when you will not know where I am – maybe ever. We need to prepare for this. We need a plan. For now, we need to stay inside. We need to keep the windows covered. We need to be quiet and not cause a scene. We need to talk about what happens next.”

Mami has tears in her eyes. We all do. I am old enough to know what is going on. I’ve been feeling it for a long time. When I'm out there, I look a little different, and my words sound odd to those around me. People make fun of me, and they call me names. I never knew what I did to make them so angry with me, but there’s been a lot of that too.

Now, the air is thick with apprehension. We’re trapped inside while waiting for papers, phone calls, or someone knocking at the door. Maybe they won’t knock. Maybe they’ll just break down the door in the middle of the night while we're sleeping.

We are trapped. What do we do? Do I have to quit school? No soccer? If Papi can’t work, how will we survive? If they take him, where will we go? How will we get there? Will they take us too?

For now, I will remember the strength of my Papi. I don’t know the future, but I’ll remember the past. I’ll think of my abuela’s hands folding tortillas. I’ll recall Mami's bedtime songs when I was little. I’ll pray for a life without fear – someday. I will hope and pray for a simple home, not a castle; we don't need that. We would be happy with a small piece of the world where we won’t vanish, where love would not require the proof of paperwork and official stamps, where walking down the street would say to the world, “I exist and I’m just like you.”

I will try to remember these things, these hopes and dreams. But the truth is, today I am terrified."

Mateo's story (without AI) was created with my words and generated for these times. It’s a story of fear, alienation, confusion, persecution, and suffering. It portrays the deep anguish in the broken hearts and souls of others living not so far from me, and it also breaks mine.

"Somehow, the prophets knew, the soul must weep to be a soul at all."
(The Tears of Things: Prophetic Wisdom for an Age of Outrage)

Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it.

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