My Bible study this morning really hit home. I’m toward the end of Rick Warren’s 365 Daily Devotional of “Decade of Destiny” on bible.com and he reminds us that being present for others is sometimes the best gift we can give them.
He tells us the story of his daughter who didn’t make color guard in eighth grade. Sobbing, she went and sat on the floor of her walk-in closet. Then, one-by-one, each member of the family crawled into the closet just to sit on the floor with her in silence and cry with her. He says, “None of us tried to talk her out of her grief. We didn’t minimize her pain. We didn’t try to get her to look at the bright side of what had happened. We just sat there and hurt with her.”
Jesus said we should, “Be happy with those who are happy, weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15 TEV) That is the essence of empathy; it is the gift of presence.
Any of us who grieve know the pain upon pain of someone trying to talk us out of our grief, to look on the bright side, or encourage us to be happy. While we’re in pain, they’re trying to change our minds about it. Not necessarily for us, but oftentimes so they can feel better. Like Nora McInerny says in her Ted Talk “When your person dies, your friends and family will look around for someone who’s gone through something similar and they’ll push you towards each other so you can talk amongst yourselves and then you won’t get your sad on other people.”
People don’t want your sad. They don’t want to hear you’re a widow or the parent of a child in heaven, or that your world has fallen apart. It threatens their happiness, their safe, little world where the worst problems they deal with are pretty much fixable. They want to stay in their bubble of the trials of life that revolve around angst regarding their kids or grandkids, lists of never-ending chores, their work troubles, or relationship problems, or the like.
But, for those of us with unfixable problems like losing a loved one, or an arm, or the ability to see, or a relationship, or facing a life-changing or terminal diagnosis, our problems aren’t “fixable.” We grieve. We grieve because our reality is set and cannot be altered.
We can learn to live with it and move forward with our pain. We can find normalcy in life for the times when we’re not gutted with the reality that most people are blissfully unaware of the precarious line between the average stresses of life and the devastation of life-altering events.
So, when you find a friend in sorrow, sit with them. Cry with them. Put your arm around them. Let them be sad. But, above all, please, please do not try to fix them or make them happy.
Because they aren’t happy. They might have moments of joy, or laughter, or fun, but their heart is broken about something that has no resolution. As you go home to your spouse, live in a healthy body, hug your kids, spend time with friends and loved ones, or use your faculties, they are keenly aware of the things you have that they do not. Trying to encourage your friend to be who they once were is only salt in the wound.
Your grieving friend will never be the same. They will move forward and create a new life, but they will never live like they did before because they know. They know. They understand that life can change in an instant and they can’t take the next steps ignorant to the horror that others disregard because they haven’t experienced it firsthand.
So, don’t motivate a person with the knowledge of the depth of grief or despair to be happy. Cry with them. Sit with them. Let them have their emotions.
And, then thank God you really don’t understand.