The outpouring of love & support during Papa’s illness and after his loss blew us away and made us realize to an even greater degree how blessed we were (and are) with a wonderful support system of family and friends.

If I could, I’d have one of those photo grids (little boxes with head shots of people all forming one big square grid) so you could see each and every one of the dear faces of everyone who helped us during this time, but, alas!, my graphic arts skills are sorely lacking and no such grid is happening any time soon.  Shoot!  So we’ll just pretend….

(enter grid here)

But first, allow me to back-track a bit to highlight that this “support” thing is no simple matter:

It was a number of years ago, soon after J’s mom died, that I heard from a friend how a mutual friend (whom I’d lost touch with) mentioned to her that he & his wife had decided to pull back from reaching out to us in order to provide space for those closer with us to reach out.  I didnt (and don’t) hold this against this friend, but at the time, I was a little hurt that this friend would feel this way.  Frankly, I considered his rational completely ridiculous.  Why would anyone choose to hold back from offering a kind word, a card, or some other form of acknowledgement and concern for someone they knew had just experienced such a great loss?  Make room for those closer to reach out?  Isn’t there plenty of room for any and everyone to reach out?

And yet, before I begin to sound too condescending, I must admit that just a few years later, I found myself acting in a similar way:

Very close together, I had two people whom I knew, lose loved ones.  My good friend’s sister lost her mother-in-law and a prior Bible study leader lost her father.  I didn’t have a lot of contact with either of these people, but certainly knew them well enough to send a card and offer my sympathies; so I decided to do just that.  I soon found myself in the card aisle, debating over the wording of countless sympathy cards, finally narrowing it down to two cards and purchasing them.

And if that was that, and I went home and wrote a little note and mailed out those cards, there’d be nothing more for me to say here than “Way to go!,” but, unfortunately, that’s not how it played out.  No, I came home and read over those cards again and balked.  I decided the wording in the cards was too cheesy, too trite; I decided maybe I wasn’t close enough with these dear people to send a card with such wording; I decided maybe it would be better to just not  send a card at all.  So I didn’t.

I pulled back and did nothing.

Nothing.

Absolutely.  Shamefully.  Ridiculous.

Pretty much I decided to focus on me and how the receivers of these cards might think about me if I sent sympathy cards that might somehow miss the mark.

Me.

I cringe every time I recall this story because I’m ashamed that in the moment of grief for two people I cared about and was hurting for, I decided to take the low road and focus on myself and how my actions might be viewed, rather than taking the high road and just doing something, anything, to tangibly let others know that I did indeed care and was praying for them.

Here’s the thing, the bottom line, and the reason I think it’s hard to know what to do, what to say, when someone is going through a tragedy:  in reality, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, anyone can do to take the hurt away, to make it easier, to “fix it” when someone has lost a loved one.  There are no perfect words in a card, no just-right meal, no incredibly thoughtful gift that can make it all better.  And yet that’s just what we want to do and that’s just what makes it so difficult.  We see a friend suffering and we want to help, anyway we can, but we feel helpless, feeling that any effort falls short.

And sometimes it’s easier to just avoid the pain and do nothing at all.

Cause what the heck are we supposed to do???

Just…

show…

you…

care.

That’s it; that’s all there is to it.  Just do something, anything, to let the person know you care.  And then realize that you’re only a small piece of the puzzle, an important piece, but just a piece.  The full breadth of encouragement does not lay wholly on your shoulders, but is shared by all those who are surrounding your friend as well.  In my experience, I didn’t notice what my friends didn’t do, but rather what they did do.  Each person (including you!) has a unique way in which they can encourage and lift up a hurting friend.  And as everyone tangibly cares in their own ways, gaps are filled and spaces overlap, all together creating a wonderful picture of love.

 

Can I tell you something?  I received a lot of cards, and the majority of the “Hallmarky” wording of all those cards I barely scanned.  In the wake of losing Papa, with memorial service and scads of other details, welcoming guests and meals, and continuing life as wife and mom, there wasn’t a lot of time to just sit and ponder the wording in those cards.  And frankly I didn’t care what the generic wording read.  I really only cared about one thing:  the name signed at the bottom of those cards and any personal note that might have been included.  I would read that name, or names, and my heart would be warmed and encouraged; They know and they care!   So as I apologize for those who agonized over “just the right” card for me in the Target aisle, the truth of the matter is, all that mattered to me was your name.  All that mattered is that you cared and you made sure I knew it.

But sympathy cards were just one aspect of the support we received .  There were so many other ways people showed they cared (during Papa’s illness and after his passing).

Here are just a few ways that stood out to me (some of them are being repeated here):

While Papa was sick:

• Friends stopping by with hot tea that first night in the ER
• A cross-country family friend sending a restaurant gift card for me and Nana to go out to lunch
• A friend and her kids stopping by with a meal and staying to chat & play
• Friends and family watching the boys so I could attend Papa’s important doctor’s appointments
• A friend sending me a Groupon for a massage
• Dinner out with girlfriends who knew what it was like to have a parent with terminal cancer
• Friends taking our big boys along on a fun family outing so J & I could have a low-key day at home
• Friends (neighbors) watching our boys next door while J & I went for a walk at a nearby park
• Emails/texts/calls from multiple friends and family members to check in for updates and offer up prayer

After Papa’s passing:

• A friend leaving flowers for me to come home to after arriving back from the hospital the night Papa passed
• Friends dropping off lunch & dinner(s) the day after Papa’s death
• Calls/emails/texts/Facebook messages offering remembrances of Papa as well as their sympathies
• A friend joining me at the florist to help me pick out an arrangement to have at Papa’s service
• Another friend watching my boys during said trip to the florist, making it (a lot) more peaceably
• A cross-country friend dropping everything to fly out and help for several days surrounding the memorial service
• Our couples’ Bible study group gifting us a beautiful birdbath with adorable bird statue (a friend’s parents’ small group had this tradition whenever a parent passed)
• A cousin sending storybooks for our boys about losing a loved one (Heaven is for Real and Chester Raccoon and the Acorn Full of Memories )
• J’s coworkers sending a beautiful flower arrangement
• My women’s Bible study group sending an edible fruit “flower” arrangement
• Friends and family providing food for our extended family lunch the day of Papa’s service
• Friends and family coming the not-so-close distance to Nana & Papa’s church for his memorial service
• Friends helping out in the kitchen (and providing food too) for lunch for our extended family the day after Papa’s service
• A friend organizing a meal list and multiple friends bringing meals to us three times a week for weeks after Papa’s passing

The above list covers 50 or more individuals, (5-0!), and I’m sure there’re more I’ve left out.  Do you get the picture?  These individuals all lead busy lives of their own, with work and spouse and kids and a hundred other demands on their time each day.  It would be insane, if not altogether impossible, for just one of them to shower us with all the acts of kindness listed above.  And yet, yet, the actions of so many friends, all these kind acts weaved together, created such a beautiful fabric of support and love and care when I (we) needed it most.  A beautiful picture of the body of Christ working individually, yet together, and my family being greatly blessed in the process.

Just do something to show you care.

A day and a half after Papa died, a good friend called to check in.  She’d emailed me the night of Papa’s death, but this was the first time I’d spoken with her since.  Like myself, she is not a “phone person,” and she made me smile when she admitted that she didn’t quite know what to say on the phone, but had told herself, “I just need to put on my big girl panties and make the call.”  She figured she was a close enough friend that she should call at a time like this.

A couple weeks later, I was at church and passed someone I knew, but not very well at that point.  She turned to me and said, “I’m so sorry about your dad.”  I thanked her and then there was a bit of an awkward pause and she added, “I don’t know what else to say.”  I responded something to the affect that I knew, and it was ok.  And it was ok.  More than anything, I just appreciated that she acknowledged my loss and offered her sympathy.

About a month after Papa’s death, there was one night I found myself in a scramble to get dinner on the table before getting the family out the door for a church function.  Meals had recently stopped coming from friends and I wasn’t quite back in the routine of regular meal planning.  I was short on time this night, and planned to make use of some pot stickers and fried rice that I knew was somewhere in the depths of our freezer.  I unearthed them, only to find that the pot stickers were freezer-burned beyond recognition and the fried rice was months (try a year!) past its expiration date.

E-Gads!

I had no back-up plan for dinner and the panic was beginning to set in.  I was in that place of grief where the numbness is just beginning to subside and the pain is starting to rise to the surface.  Being quick on my feet and getting food on the table seemed like an overwhelming task right then and there.

I was stuck.

Head stuck in the freezer and brain stuck in “What the heck am I going to do for dinner?!!”

And in that moment,  as if on cue, I heard a “Hello!” and looked up, out of my fog and panic, to see the face of a friend.  And she might as well have been wearing a halo and wings, because it seemed like there was a chorus of angels singing around her and a light shining down from heaven, right down on where she stood with something that appeared to be a casserole dish in her hands.

In the midst of multiple kids shouting, running around, in and out, she explained that she wasn’t sure if I’d gotten her message (I hadn’t), but she decided to just stop by anyway.  She had extra chili that she’d made and she was dropping it off for us if we’d like it.  Someone had let her in, and there she stood.  In my kitchen.  Right there with dinner in hand.  Right when I needed it.

Just like that.

How did she know?  

Willing to just pop on in, literally, not knowing if we’d have dinner already on the table or not.  She could have easily talked herself out of it, worrying about how she might be received, but instead she chose to think of us and followed that thought with some spontaneous (and oh so very timely) action.  She didn’t know, but God did.  She felt prompted and acted on it, and as a result I felt God’s love showered down on me.  A tangible act that showed God cared for me in the midst of my grief, even in the little things like getting dinner on the table.

 

 

All three of the above stories, all involving different individuals, illustrate the same thing.  These dear people cared and did something about it.  They all cared enough to let me know it even when it was a bit uncomfortable.  And in a way, that made it even more meaningful because they all cared enough to put their own feelings or insecurities aside and take a step out of their comfort zones.

Something I wish I’d been willing to do when I first bought those two cards just a couple years before.

 

 

Now fast forward to just a month or so after Papa’s death, a woman and her two grown daughters lose their husband/father.  These women had been in my Bible study group at the beginning of that year; I knew them, but not super-well.  But I knew them well enough to hurt with them when I heard of their loved one passing, and this time I didn’t let my own selfishness get in the way of letting them know that.  I pulled out those two sympathy cards I’d bought previously, plus another one I happened to have on hand.  I didn’t worry about the wording being just-so or perfectly fitting.  I added a verse I had on my heart for this family and my prayer for them in their grief.  And I signed my name at the bottom, sealed it, and placed it in the mail right then and there.

And I don’t know how it was received, but I’m glad I did it, and don’t regret it one bit.

Time is too short and we are too finite to find the perfect act of kindness to express our sympathy to those who are hurting.  It’s not up to us to erase their pain, but we all have the opportunity to take part in offering support and a kind word when it’s needed most.  And who knows how that word or action will fit in perfectly, right when it’s most needed, and speak volumes to the hurting heart of another?

So don’t hold back.

Step out.

And do that something; that one thing, that’s on your heart.

You won’t regret it.

 

 

I’ll end with a link to the song “I Am” by the David Crowder Band.  This song fits so well with how I felt during the time of Papa’s illness and after his death.  In the middle of our storm, I truly felt God was holding on to us, and one really big way He did this was through the love and support of so many dear friends and family members.  I am so grateful for all those who stepped out and did something, who truly acted as God’s hands and feet, holding us up and walking along side us through our storm.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77SuukJEJ2Q