Love My People

After a loss, one of the most common phrases you will hear is "if there's anything you need, call me."  We say this because who really knows what to say in the midst of someone's grief.

In reality though, it would be rare for someone grieving to call out for help, even if it were for something simple.  Grief holds you hostage and normal, everyday tasks can seem overwhelming.  To think in advance or even know what to ask for may feel impossible.  And even if you do, it feels like you're imposing to ask.

I remember a few people who were very specific with help when we lost Austin.  One asked if they could go to the store for me.  With casseroles running out our ears, you might think this seemed like an odd suggestion.  But stores carry more than groceries - and it was the last place I wanted to be.  Public places made you vulnerable.  Well meaning people, even if they just glanced pitifully your way, could send you spiraling.  I sent her for random supplies that I needed - hair supplies, toilet paper, stamps, paper goods, and it was so appreciated.

Others asked how they could help with Noah.  Did he need someplace to retreat to when/if the funeral home became to much.  What was his favorite snack, or movie?  Could they take him out or let him play with their children?  Pick up his homework?  Siblings are often forgotten in loss so this meant everything to me.

Austin passed the day after Thanksgiving.  A few special friends sent flowers or keepsakes weeks later, right on the cusp of Christmas.  As holidays make it extra difficult to be grieving, this hugged our broken hearts.

Of course, so many prayers were offered and lifted up for us but some asked me exactly how they should pray.  Being able to vent, even if electronically, and share unique burdens in the journey of child loss was an unexpected relief.

Prayers are appreciated, coveted by those in grief.  But sometimes - often - prayer is not enough.

A few weekends ago, we were wakened with the news that my husband's friend since childhood had suddenly passed.  I began cooking, my go-to in condolences, as Tim made calls.  On our drive to their home, we thought of the many times since his illness we'd meant to stop by and visit.  He was a private man, not wanting anyone to even know he was sick, and so it made it difficult to know what to do.  Instead, we frequently prayed for them.  Now, we're saddened that he didn't see him in the end.

His wife said something that has stuck with me since.  We'd exchanged thoughts about how life gets busy and both sides meant to connect sooner, hindsight-wishes now.  She was realizing what she should've done for us, in our loss, even the midst of hers.  She told a story about helping others.

"Jesus said, 'Love my people' and often we just don't."

How true.  It is so easy to say or post that we're praying for a situation.  Or to give the standard "call me" response when tragedy strikes.  But we need to be moved to react.  We should be His hands and feet and literally love on those who are in need.

I began writing this post before his funeral but received a God wink when one of the pastors spoke on this very thing.  He read scripture about Jesus being questioned on the greatest commandment and challenged everyone to love God, love people.

Our friend was the epitome of a true servant.  He served God, his country, his community - even in his battle with his health, his service to his family was that not much changed during his illness.  The  rows of people and longest procession I remember ever driving in, showed the vast number of lives he touched.  When I think of him, I always picture him doing, never one to sit around.

We could all learn from his example to serve more, unselfishly. And be reminded to not just think but do, especially in times of grief or great need.

In Grief: What Mattered Most

There are many posts out there about what to do and what not to do if you know someone who is grieving.  I've thought many times about writing one from my own perspective, but didn't know if I had anything extra to add.  Or, I was fearful I'd leave something or someone out.

However, in the sudden loss of two teenagers this month, so many memories have been dug back up and I am reminded of that early grief, the raw pain, and yet, the moments that really mattered.

In the chaos of our loss, there are many things that stand out.  Acts of kindness that meant something, even today.  These are the things that mattered most when we lost our precious son...

Your presence matters....

Austin's passing was unexpected, tragic, and late at night.  It was a holiday weekend, Thanksgiving, and we gave him the rare treat of riding his bike around the neighborhood at that hour because the weather was unseasonably warm.  When I think back to the mass number of people that put their festivities on hold for us, it is humbling to this day.

There are moments I can't forget, that no amount of time or wishing will take away, memories so painful my heart breaks all over again.  And yet, there are also points of time I can't place.  How I got into a vehicle to follow my sweet boy in the ambulance is one of them.  I most certainly was in no condition to drive and I will always remember the kindness of the person who not just drove me, but prayed with me, for me, over me, the entire drive.

Or the cop and neighbors who, without hesitation, ran to our home to stay with Noah while we raced to the hospital.  They sat and talked to Noah about our newly hung Christmas decorations until my Mom could get to him.  They stepped in as family until ours could arrive.

Upon walking in to the ER, I was again met with people.  None of them were necessarily close friends.  At this point, we didn't know what was wrong with Austin or imagine he wouldn't survive.  Most of my family hadn't made it anywhere, some didn't even know yet.  To have those people there, so that we weren't alone, meant so much.  Even the crowds of people upon our leaving the hospital that night, though I didn't see or remember every face, was such a support to us.  And that support continued at our home.

Your prayers matter...

Shock planted me on a gurney and I was surrounded by more willing souls who wanted to pray.  They gave me strength to stand and enter the room to face the nightmare no parent should have to endure.

Our former pastor was soon at our side, there but in the background praying without ceasing.  He continued this practice throughout.  I remember him coming up to me at the start of our visitation to tell me he'd be in the back praying and how comforting that was to me.

There were - and still are- innumerable prayers said for us.  Aside from God, they are undoubtedly what carried us through.  The prayers said by people we didn't even know, or barely knew, spoke volumes to us.  The unexpected cards (so very much appreciated) that arrived in the weeks and months after with words of prayers held us.  People who reached out and specifically asked what they could pray for will forever be remembered.  I could write an entire post about the power of prayer.  Never doubt that your prayers make a difference to someone grieving.

Your attendance matters...

Until Austin, I never realized the importance of being at the funeral home.  I felt it was saved for close family and friends; and that I was taking up space or intruding on a personal, private moment.  But from the first face that greeted and hugged us, to the very last person who stood in line for hours - I cannot stress how much that meant to us.  People I haven't seen in years, those who drove hundreds of miles, ones I barely knew, to those closest to me were all so touching to see.  God granted me peace beyond understanding but it was those unexpected few that brought me to tears.  Show up because YOU matter to them.

Little things matter....

Meals, notes, hugs, flowers, keepsakes, calls and texts were all helpful and meaningful in our journey.  I remember all those calls, even if I didn't have the strength to answer them.  For me, talking on the phone was the hardest, but I thanked God for every ring because it reminded me someone cared.  But the little things, like someone stopping by the house before the funeral and asking for a list of things we needed was unbelievable.  Neither of us wanted to leave the house, I couldn't for weeks.  Having someone pick up toilet paper and stamps was beyond helpful and appreciated.  Think of ways outside the box or nontraditional to show you care.

Donations matter...

We were blessed to have life insurance on Austin, something I never imagined using, but it wasn't enough.  It barely paid for the service.  We were grateful for even the small amounts of cash given, so that we didn't have to go to the bank, could grab something for dinner once the meals ran out, or hand someone a grocery list with money.  There were times I would forget about a bill, from the fog I was in, and would regularly mess up our budget, yet somehow exactly what we needed found its way to us.  But what we'll never forget was the fundraiser given by former volunteers, which helped pay for his headstone.  To this day I can cry in gratitude for that gift.  And as time went on, donations to Austin's scholarship fund, whether direct or through purchasing a t-shirt or at a cornhole tournament were a hug to our healing hearts.


Friendship matters...

No, your friend will never be the same after suffering a tremendous loss, especially that of a child.  Don't think it is something you did or didn't do.  Don't rush their grief process.  Don't feel like you can't mention the one who is gone.  Even if tears fall, it means so much to know they are remembered.  Don't worry about what to say or not say, just be there.  While it added to our grief to lose some friendships after Austin, those that remained and blossomed through it are treasured by us.

Memories matter...

One of the greatest fears in losing a child is that they'll be forgotten.  We truly want to hear your memories about them, funny stories, what you miss about them, pictures you may have of them, etc.  One of the most special things we were given at the funeral home was a wrapped box full of letters from students/friends of Austin.  Even those who took the time to write but didn't know him well was so meaningful.  Those memories added moments we didn't know about his life.  They were a peek inside his world we were grateful to share a part of and they are a keepsake to this day.

Timing matters...

If I had only one tip to share in helping someone who is grieving is that time doesn't move at the same pace for them.  Grief doesn't stop after the funeral, in fact, it gets worse.  There are swarms of people, support, food, and help in the first week or two after a death.  And then, it dramatically stops.  Those who continued to call, send a card, or even stop by helped us heal.  Don't forget about them as time passes.  Anniversaries matter, whether it is the day they passed or their birthday, or even holidays like Mother's/Father's Day.  A hug or a text, letting them know you are thinking and praying will mean the world to them.  Those who still do an act of kindness to remember him on November 29 lift us up and let us know Austin still matters.  And that matters most of all.