Posts
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.
