Exposed grief
It’s here. Our first taste of warmer weather in our area, and I’m itching to get back out into the yard. It would be so much easier now to get in there to cut out the thorns, pull out the broken-off limbs, and lop off the spindly plants before their foliage starts budding out again. However, the thawing ground, coupled with a hard rain last week, has been making it difficult to simply walk in the yard.
It isn’t just the warmer weather which makes me want to get in there. I’m a little embarrassed by how untended it looks.
For weeks now, the leaf-less branches have allowed a view straight through the trees and bushes on the edges of our property and into the hot mess that is beyond - the countless fallen trees, dead branches, and the overgrowth. Sometimes I wonder if, when people drive by, they wonder what kind of people would let their property get to such a state.
Other times I think isn’t that what grief feels like?
We live in a social media saturated world where many of us present ourselves as all put together. We share about our children who are talented at everything, a spouse who always sends us flowers for no reason, and our own latest accomplishment. If we do “tell on ourselves”, it’s often told in a self-deprecating manner - “oh, silly me.” I share happy things like this as much as everyone else. (Well, except for the flowers from my husband. He doesn’t do that, but he turn on the heated mattress pad for me every night)
We have learned to share our joys because to do otherwise is dangerous. When we are honest about our struggles, the longings which cause us to stare off into the distance, the questions and doubts causing us to re-think what we believed to be true, or how we are still struggling with the loss that rocked our world, our honesty is often dismissed. We can be made feel like our pain, as well as our faith, are being attacked.
We shouldn’t be too hard on our friends when they struggle to allow space for our brokenness. Most of us don’t know what to do when someone tells us they’re not ok. Most of the time the words spoken or shared are done out of a heart offering comfort and encouragement. They are words meant to remind us that our pain is seen, and that God is present, holding us, and walking with us.
Sometimes, though, these words whisper to us that we should draw back inside and not share honestly with others again. That we should be like the trees who, when covered with their green leaves, can hide the brokenness and hurt. So, we smile and write cheery social media posts. While we continue to hurt on the inside.
One of my favorite books in the Bible is Job. He is a man who appears to have everything. Job and his wife have raised a large family, they have fields full of livestock, and Job is well-respected - “a man of complete integrity.” Life is good. Until one day, fire, wind, thieves, and death take away their children, livestock, and crops. Job and his wife are left to dwell in the ruins around them.
But, they are not left alone.
“When three of Job’s friends heard of the tragedy he had suffered, they got together and traveled from their homes to comfort and console him. Their names were Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite. When they saw Job from a distance, they scarcely recognized him. Wailing loudly, they tore their robes and threw dust into the air over their heads to show their grief. Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and nights.
No one said a word to Job, for they saw that
his suffering was too great for words.
(Job 2: 11-13)
Stop. Go back and re-read that passage from scripture. Pay attention to the verbs.
His friends cried with Job.
They mourned with him.
They sat with him.
They didn’t say a word.
They knew his suffering was so great that there really were no words. *
If, like Job, you are carrying a heavy load, feel like there is no one you can talk to, are worn out from pretending that everything is ok, pause and take a moment to breathe. Sit in this space and know that someone sees you and your struggles.
If you would like someone to sit and be present with you like Job’s friends were for him, drop me an email. It would be an honor to walk with you. Whether we live next door or miles apart, I will grab a cup of coffee and ask Jesus to come sit with us.
If you know someone who is grieving, and you can think of times when you may not have supported someone like you wish, be gentle with yourself. Nobody gets it “right” all the time. We misread situations, we get distracted thinking of things that need done, we say the wrong things. Be kind to yourself and accept the same grace you would offer anyone else. We don’t ask our friends to be perfect. Don’t be angry at yourself when you’re not.
At the same time, let us strive to do a little better in the future. Consider what it means to be a safe space for a friend, family member, co-worker, classmate, acquaintance. What a difference it would make if we
Listen without judgment, don’t try to “fix” the problem, don’t promise that everything will be “ok.” If we allow the person to wonder, question, meander, cry, laugh, cuss, scream, speak of the brokenness they’ve been hiding.
If we listen. In my experience, it would be like pressing a release valve.
Soon the trees in our yard will begin budding out with new leaves. And, before long, the fallen branches, broken trees, and overgrowth will be hidden again. It doesn’t mean that there isn’t work to be done. But, the work is made a lot easier when we have someone helping us.
May God be with each of us as we make our way on journeys together.
Peace,
Denise
*Job’s friends do mess it up, of course. They eventually speak. When they do, they misuse scripture, misrepresent God, and fail to show the compassion Job desperately needs. Today, though, we’re just going to focus on what they did right.
