Christian Latina Leadership Blog

By: Veronica Martinez-Gallegos

Para leer la versión en español haga clic aquí

For many years I wondered if my wounds were good for something. Out of curiosity, I asked myself, how? Where? When did my wounds begin? As I processed my thoughts, along with

the concept of the “wounded healer,” introduced by the Catholic priest Henri Nouwen, I also wodered if there are wounds that all people carry and that others cannot see. I also thought about people who are ashamed of their internal afflictions. They need someone who is willing to listen carefully by offering compassionate ears and perceptive eyes to see those invisible wounds.

One of those invisible wounds that Nouwen mentions is “professional loneliness.” Nouwen suggests that this wound can become a healing force in the “practice of hospitality.” However, he adds that, “…hospitality as a healing power requires that the owner be comfortable in his own home in order to offer hospitality to the guest.”¹ A person must search within herself to make an internal repair and provide constant maintenance in order to be emotionally and spiritually available to offer hospitality to another. You must own and remember both the loneliness and the healing process to use them as a source of empathy for understanding others who may not understand their own suffering.

How does this hospitality look like for us as Latinas and Latinas-at-heart leaders, educators, and mentors? As a host, I (we) need to feel at home in my (our) own home. By doing this, as a leader, I may be able to create a hospitable space. As a Christian, it would be nice to see other people without a personal agenda and be genuine when offering hospitality. In such a context, hospitality is about the other wounded person in the room. The healer facilitates the discussion of the other person’s hopes, dreams, and concerns, thus helping them make sense of their existence.

I remember a time when I extended hospitality to someone who came to me to vent her hurts and feelings of anger, pain, and vulnerability. She had questions, uncertainties, and did not know how to handle a difficult relationship at work. It seems that dialogue was not possible between both parties, and quitting from her job was her only option. I had empathy and identified with her story because I had experienced something similar where I was wounded. I listened to her, and with appropriate differentiation, I self-disclosed part of my story and the process that I followed in my journey. I knew I could not fix her situation. I could only be there for her as she needed someone to listen to her. I am grateful for the opportunity to have cleaned up my “home” so that I could be hospitable for her, metaphorically speaking.

Furthermore, it is important to remember that a house gets dirty constantly, and therefore requires continuous cleaning. Perhaps we will have painful experiences again, so we must continue maintaining our internal house, our spiritual house.

Therefore, seeing myself as a wounded healer helps me to understand that “vulnerability is not a sign of cowardice, on the contrary, vulnerability is courage, it is a strength”.² The whole process of finding oneself is a painful process, especially when a person is hurt in a place where shelter was found, and in consequence, trust is lost. For me, home should be a shelter where care, guidance, support, security, and protection are found. This kind of home can be found in our relationship with God through Jesus Christ. It is where we can truly experience intimacy and feel at home.

If we are wounded people, let us remember these words from the Apostle Paul:

“Who [God] comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any

     trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God” 2 Corinthians 1:4.

Our responsibility is to clear our home in order to be hospitable to our guests and to those who need to be comforted. Let us offer comfort, in the same way that we have received it from God.

1. Henri J.M.Nouwen, “The Wounded Healer,” in Images of Pastoral Care, editor Robert C. Dyskstra, (Saint Louis, Missouri: Chalice Press, 2005), 78-82.

2. Brené Brown, Daring Greatly, (New York, NY: Avery, 2015), 33-34.