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| photo by Kate Mereand-Sinka / flickr |
I have a friend who lost his wife this past week. I have been thinking about him a lot. I have whispered some prayers for him and his family. What does this do? I do not know. Prayer is a mystery.
I do know that when I had a friend who lost his little daughter years ago I wrote him a note. I have no idea what I said—but weeks later he wrote me back saying, “Thank you for what you did not say.” Maybe this friend neck-deep in grief did not need the usual cliches. Maybe none of us do. In our well-meaning anxiety to help—we usually say too much.
There is a rule in writing stories and such. It goes like this: “Show...don’t tell.” Maybe our grieving friends and neighbors do not need any words right now. And yet we do need to express—to show—our love and concern. Show? Hug. Pray. Take a casserole months later. They probably get too much food when their loved one first dies. They tell me often. “What in the world am I going to do with all this food in the refrigerator and freezer. There’s only me.”
A common lament I hear in my Grief groups is that people surround you when you lose someone you love. The house is crowded with many folk. But—very soon the funeral is over, people begin to disperse. And weeks, months later you sit in the house by yourself. Maybe this is the best time to show. These grievers are hungry for somebody to drop by.
Write a note months later also. By that time the cards and condolences will have slowed down to a trickle or stopped. If you knew the person well that died—send this friend a favorite memory you have of them. Let them know that everyone grieves differently. You might also reassure them that what they are feeling is natural and part of the grief journey. There is no fixed time table for when you lose someone. All of us are different. And men and women and children, too all grieve differently.
Show. Take them to lunch. Give them plenty of room to move around. Don’t make too many demands. “We have not seen you in church lately.”
I wish I could strike: “Our thought and prayers are with you…” Everyone says it so glibly when tragedy happens. And deep in our hearts we know that our thoughts or our prayers won’t be around very long. We turn the TV on. We watch the ball game. We are horrified with what is happening (or not happening) in Washington. We worry about our check book or our too-tight trousers. No. Let’s be honest Of course we cannot say: “Our thoughts and prayers won’t be with you…” that’s cruel. Let’s just quit saying what really is not true. And if, months from now—or on some painful anniversary or birthday or other holiday—we reach out and do what we can—now that is helpful and healing.
Right now we have a great opportunity to move beyond the thoughts and prayers. Texas...Florida...South Carolina...Puerto Rico...Mexico. Show. Volunteer. Send a check. Write your Congressman and make sure those in Washington continue to respond. Beatt he drums at church. Put real muscled on those thoughts and prayers.
Of course we can pray if we really mean it. The energy of God really is released in ways do not understand at this time and in other times too. We lift up him or her or them to the care of the Father and Mother too. And quiet and unseen like the wind Jesus talked about—somehow those who lose someone are carried along in ways we do not know or understand.
But you’re smart. You can figure out how to show and not just talk. For one day we shall all walk this lonesome journey. And we will need showing, too and not as much talk.
I love the little poem that Mary Oliver has left us:
“Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was gift."
that this, too, was gift."
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| photo by Wayne / flickr
--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com
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