In life, we can’t escape the need to compromise. It is part of successful living, indeed without a little compromising, life will certainly be one of conflict and general unhappiness, either for you or those around you! Usually both, I would venture to suggest.

The word compromise has a double meaning though. We say that our position in warfare has been compromised if there has been a breach of protocol. Or our reputation is compromised if we are caught in a misdemeanour and is often associated with ‘selling out’.

However, the main dictionary definition for compromise is an amicable way to reach an agreement between two parties. It is a mutual giving up of some ground to the other side.

Commonly, we do think of compromise as a dirty word, though, don’t we? Often, a lack of compromising leads to marriage break downs, business partnership downfalls, committee dissolutions, and even, when we fail to compromise some issues with our children, teenage rebellion and fractured families.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I do not uphold the view that we must compromise on fundamental principles, or that we must compromise on who we are or what we believe in. I certainly don’t believe in the philosophy of ‘anything for a peaceful life’ but I do value the art of successful and mutually beneficial negotiating and compromising.

Compromising is a skill. And like any skill, it needs to be practiced to be perfected.  We are all out to have our way, though, and often will strive to win at all costs, with compromising being seen as not having anything at all to do with winning and everything to do with giving in or giving up.

The price we pay for a lack of compromise is often high and almost always brings loss, to ourselves or others. Yet, when both parties seek to come together in the spirit of ‘compromise’, it is more likely to end in a peaceful resolution, than not.

In my experience, the key to successful compromise in conflict and life in general, is listening. When we truly listen to the other side of an argument or discussion, we will often find areas we can compromise in without giving in entirely to the opposing viewpoint. In fact, by listening, we may discover no compromise is necessary at all; that in fact, we are on the same side after all and what was needed was simply to be heard.

The other quality linked in with being able to compromise, is, I think, humility. It takes graciousness and a humble spirit to give a little in our position on a given topic or issue. Most of us, at our root core, do not find humility easy and often confuse it with having a low self-esteem (maybe that’s a topic for another time!). If we begin to exercise some humility, we may find the process of compromising comes a bit more naturally.

Compromising will be necessary at some time in our life, more often, maybe, than we recognise. How are you at compromising? Are you determined to be ‘right’ and for your way to be the only way? Or are you willing to give a little and receive much in return?

I recently had the pleasure of attending the wedding of my friend’s daughter. It was just lovely; the bride was glowing, her parent’s were teary, the groom was puffed up with pride, and, as usual, the little kids tried to steal the show by shedding suit jackets, ties, shoes and belts in the middle of the ceremony at centre stage.

I have known the bride since she was seven and it was wonderful to see her all ‘grown up’ at twenty four and taking the big step of a marriage commitment.

The atmosphere at the wedding and subsequent reception was one of optimism. With both families overjoyed at the union, there were no negative undertones or conflicts. It was refreshing to be present at an occasion where the main ingredient of the day was pure joy and hope for the future.

The day caused me to reflect on hope and what it means to the human psyche. The emotion of hope is a significant one to us as people, and one that is often underestimated.

The dictionary defines hope as: –noun: the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best; –verb (used with object): to look forward to with desire and reasonable confidence.

Basically, we need hope. Without it, why would we strive for anything in the future? Hope keeps us going. If we do not have hope, we would not plan, dream and ultimately, act. If we had no hope of ‘happily ever after’, would anyone make a commitment to another person for a lifetime? If we had no hope, would we put money aside and save for that overseas trip? Would we make business investments and plans? It’s in the sportsperson who trains every day, in the hope of being good enough to make the Olympic team. It is in the persistence of a suitor with his eye firmly on the hope of attracting the attention of the woman of his dreams.

It seems to me, that hope is one of the very essentials we need for survival. Social workers will tell you that it is the teenagers bereft of hope who often partake in the most self-destructive behaviour. It’s the adults who have had hopes and dreams stripped away who slide into depression or even alcoholism. It’s the societies whose governments have abused the people’s goodwill and hope for the future that are thrown into civil unrest.

When people around us, or ourselves, are dealing with the various difficulties and challenges life can bring, we need to be mindful of the power of hope. Our resilience in apparently ‘hopeless’ situations is astounding, as is our ability to thoughtlessly take another’s hope away. Sometimes, hope is all we have to cling to when our world has been shaken to the core.

Hope, by it’s very definition is optimism for the future. Helping sustain another’s hope is one of the best gifts we can give. Standing shoulder to shoulder with someone as they look disaster in the eye, spurring them on and being a voice of hope when theirs drops to a whisper, is an important privilege bestowed on those who choose to take it on. We can do much for those we love by simply not allowing them to lose hope. Let’s give hope where we can and look toward a bright and vibrant future, no matter how dim and dull the present may be.

Very recently, I lost a dear friend to brain tumours. I was privileged enough to spend some time at the hospice with her and her family. The display of love and support in that room was staggering. The whole gamut of emotions was there with us; we laughed and cried, reminisced and re-told favourite stories, we talked about the unfairness of it all and spoke of the great life she had.

One of the recurring sentiments I heard said to family members was to ‘stay strong’. I found myself becoming quite irritated by that one simple phrase, after hearing it so many times from so many different people.

What do we mean by that? What does strength, in the face of a life taken too early, look like? Does staying strong mean an absence of tears? Denial, falling apart, anger, overwhelming sorrow, are all part of grief and, in my opinion, of being strong.

Strength is not in ‘keeping it together’ all the time. Strength is crying when you need to, allowing yourself to feel the rage at the injustice of it all; strength is allowing others to shoulder the load when it’s just simply too much for you to carry alone.

We all have such different ways of coping with grief and we should not be judged based on what others think is the ‘right’ way of expressing it.

All around us, people are dealing with grief; the recent grief of the loss of homes and businesses due to the floods, grief over the loss of loved ones, marriage breakdowns, lost dreams and hopes. Strength will show itself in varying forms. Some people need the ‘stiff upper lip’ approach, and that’s okay. Some people need to talk it out, looking at every angle and trying to make sense of it all that way, that’s okay too. Still others find solace in solitude and retreating. Quite often it’s a combination of all the different coping strategies that will get us through.

We need to give ourselves, as well as others, the permission to express and process grief in whatever way we need to, in order for us to best deal with the pain loss brings.

One of the best stories I have heard about grief is of a four year old child whose elderly neighbour had recently lost his wife. On seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman’s yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his mother asked what he had said to the neighbour, the little boy said, ‘Nothing, I just helped him cry.’

In times of grief, either our own or someone else’s, what we need as people is not someone commenting on how we are going, we just need people to help us cry.