The Hard Times Cafe

Next week will be the 1 year anniversary of my sweet Grandfather’s passing.  I literally cannot believe this is true.  Experiencing tragedy is like existing in a time warp--where days either drag to infinity or times spins past you like a crazy carousel.  Immediately after his death, I remember feeling it was obscene that life remained normal for so many people.  The responsibilities of work, family, and school continued, although we were painfully paused.  Our grief brought us to a standstill.

Elijah and his Paw-paw playing pirates on our last vacation together.

At this very moment, we are surrounded by those who are currently experiencing that slow-motion suffering.  The pain of emotional turmoil, questionable health (of themselves or loved ones), financial instability, an unpredictable career, or conflict within their family.  People watching their lives blow up around them.

Sometimes hurt is so widespread, we feel powerless to help.  Our offerings of service wouldn’t even make a dent in the problem.  In one of my favorite essays by Anne Lamott, she addresses this:  

“...I am depressed and furious.  I often feel like someone from the Book of Lamentations.  The best thing I’ve heard lately is the Christian writer Barbara Johnson’s saying that we’re Easter people, living in a Good Friday world.

I don’t have the right personality for Good Friday, for the crucifixion: I’d like to skip ahead to the resurrection.  In fact, I’d like to skip ahead to the resurrection vision of one of the kids in our Sunday school, who drew a picture of the Easter Bunny outside the tomb: everlasting life, and a basket full of chocolates.  Now you’re talking.

In Jesus’ real life, the resurrection came two days later, but in our real lives, it can be weeks, years, and you never know for sure it will come.  I don’t have the right personality for the human condition, either.  But I believe in the resurrection, in Jesus’, and in ours.  The trees, so stark and gray last month, suddenly went up as in flame, but instead in blossoms and leaves--poof!  Like someone opening an umbrella.  It’s often hard to find similar dramatic evidence of rebirth and hope in our daily lives.”

Easter people in a Good Friday world.  I LOVE that.  Anne goes on to say our only hope for moving forward amidst the overwhelming mess of life is to take baby steps, appreciate small victories, go easy on ourselves, and spread the love.

Because tragedy is an isolating experience.  If you’re the one who’s going through it, you tend to draw away from others-not wanting to be reminded of their “normal, carefree” lives.  And if you are watching a loved one experience suffering, it is hard to know how to respond.  You walk on eggshells, so worried about saying the wrong thing that you may end up saying nothing at all.

I was speaking to a friend about this recently, how we feel guilty about proceeding forward with our fundraiser this month when so many close to us are going through difficulties.  It’s like rubbing salt in the wound.  Like saying, “I know you’re sick/sad/despairing and all, but it’s time to focus on US now!”  After listening to my crazy rant, my precious friend said, “Laura, people will ALWAYS be experiencing some kind of hurt.  Investing in someone else gives them a chance to escape that, even if just for a night.”  

And she’s right.  Whether we are in the midst of something -or- are witness to someone else’s struggles, we need to take the spotlight off of ourselves.  Now, I will concede that life’s difficulties SHOULD make us slow down, do some introspection, and focus on bettering ourselves.  But moderation is key.  If you enter the “Woe is me” martyr phase of suffering (which I, being a *particularly* bad example, experience almost every time we run out of coffee creamer), be assured that you need to start focusing elsewhere!  Allowing others to comfort and console you is SO much more satisfying than doing it yourself.  By taking the time to encourage someone else, regardless of what YOU are going though, I find you nearly always walk away feeling revived, fresh, and blessed.  It’s like getting a Jesus facial!

And if you are the outsider to someone’s pain, just get involved.  Struggles are not contagious!  Don’t overthink your response to the point that you are silent.  Like Anne says, take small steps: a phone call, a pizza dinner, a mowed lawn.  This is what draws us together during the difficult times.  It’s not in the “perfect words” or the ability to solve the problem (although that would be nice), but by simply being available.

A couple of weeks ago, I had a conversation with Elijah that stopped me in my tracks (This may remind you of a previous post):

Elijah: Mama, sometimes I think about sad things.

Me: Oh honey, I don’t like when you do that.  What do you mean?

Elijah: Like my baby sister may never meet her real mommy and daddy.

That was so hard to hear come out of my 6 year old’s mouth.  To know that he understands his baby sister will probably never get to meet her birthparents.  To know that he realizes this world is imperfect.  It hurts my heart.  I don’t want my baby to have to see the suffering of this earth firsthand.  My instincts are to shield and protect him, to keep him ignorant of life’s pain and people’s troubles.  But I no longer believe this is an acceptable way to live, not as a parent or as a Jesus follower.  Because I have another baby who has no choice about what she is exposed to.  She will most likely be born into some of the world’s ugliest hardship and distress, helpless to make a way for herself.  And her story isn’t unique but a reminder of so many others, the silent suffering both here and abroad.  That’s why (for our family) getting involved is no longer an option, it’s a responsibility.

Sometimes I just want to close my eyes and act like everyone's alright

When I know they're not

This world needs God, but it's easier to stand and watch

I could say a prayer and just move on

Like nothing's wrong, but I refuse

Because I don't want to live like I don't care, 

I don't want to say another empty prayer

I refuse to sit around and wait for someone else

To do what God has called me to do myself

I could choose not to move but I refuse

I can hear the least of these crying out so desperately

And I know we are the hands and feet of You, oh God

So, if You say move, It's time for me to follow through

And do what I was made to do-

Show them who YOU are

Lyrics from “I Refuse” by Josh Wilson 

(watch the convicting video below)