Thank you all so much for taking the time to lift our friends up in prayer! I know that they are feeling your prayers. Thanks. Now here is a little update on them:
Actually, I was mistaken - L chose to have a V-delivery instead of a C-section. She has had both in the past and was scheduled for a C-section. But, this past Saturday was her daughter's birthday, and she wanted to be able to celebrate with her. So, after some thought, they decided to go in Thursday night to induce labor so that she would feel well enough to take her older daughter to the movies on her birthday. Oh, yes, she did. She went in Thursday evening got induced, had baby B. Grace at 3:00 a.m., went home from the hospital on Friday, and took her older daughter to the movies on Saturday. L is one tough cookie, wouldn't you agree?
The graveside service was Sunday afternoon, Father's Day of all days. L looked simply beautiful. She wore a pink dress and B wore a black suit with a pink tie. The service was very short but very sweet. I was surprised at how sweet the whole thing was. . . precious. Another friend of ours sang Jesus Loves Me accapella to close the service. The words, "Little ones to Him belong," suddenly had such a special meaning. And, Erik and I agreed that we would never sing the song the same again.
I learned a very important lesson through this experience. You see, I am new to all this. The only funeral that I have ever been to was a funeral for the organist at my church growing up. I was in 9th grade. So, when other people grieve, I never know what to say or do. Mostly, I give them space. Partly because I don't like for others to see me hurting, so I assume they feel the same way. And, the other reason that I give them space is simply that I don't know what to say. L & B are in our Sunday School class. We have sons the same age, and we had the common bond of being pregnant again together. But, other than birthday parties and ballgames, we never see them outside of church. They are acquaintance/friends of ours. So, when I heard that their baby didn't have a heartbeat, I did what I normally do, I gave them space. I didn't feel that I was a good enough friend of hers to reach out that quickly after such a loss. So, I didn't see or talk to L until I saw her at the graveside service.
When the service was over, the family was enveloped in hugs from the crowd. And, as I made my way toward L, I heard the voice of Winnie the Pooh in my head saying, "A friend in need is a friend indeed." And, it was at that moment that I realized something very important. . .
It doesn't matter if I have words. It doesn't matter if I am close enough friends with someone who is going through a tragedy. It doesn't matter if I hardly know them at all. All that matters is that God gave me two arms, and I need to use them to reach out to the hurting. Because people like to know that they are not alone in their saddness. I am not sure that hurting people ever turn away friends. They find comfort in knowing that someone cares. And, I can do that. So, as I hugged L's neck, and whispered "I love you," in her ear, I vowed to myself never to hesitate again. We are never not close enough friends to others in the body of Christ. We are one body, and God gave us a great gift in making us one. He gave us the gift of friends who weep when we weep and rejoice when we rejoice. And, I will never take that for granted again.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
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15 comments:
Too true, too true! I often will do the same thing when I hear of a friend, or mutual friend, grieving or in pain. I'll stand back and wonder if there is anything I can do because after all, "it's not like we're close or anything". But it also took the death of a child to make me realize that they just want to know that we're thinking of them, grieving with them, and praying for them.
I have often done the same thing you did Erin. It's so difficult to know what to say. And then I heard a very wise person say that we really don't need to say anything at all. The comfort of a hug and a whispered I love you is worth more than all the words in the world.
OK you made my cry. Although I have those pregnant hormones rushing through my body. I know what you mean, it's hard to know what to say when a friend hurts! Believe me, i know.
I never know what to say in situations like that...even more so when it's the loss of a child. I think for the person grieving, it's comforting to see a tangible evidence of God's love, and to feel support. That's worth more than any words we could ever utter.
Absolultely, Erin! They just need to know you care, but not 'what you know'. Sometimes words get in the way.
I continue to pray for your friends. What they are going through has to be so difficult.
That's so true, Erin. So true.
As someone who has experienced way too many loses to only be thirty years old, I can assure you that your actions and words were appreciated. It truly doesn't matter if you have the right words or if you have been lifelong friends. I think those who are grieving just want to know they are aren't alone in their pain. Rest assured, you blessed your friend.
Blessings to you~
Wise words, Erin. I had a good friend who's six-month-old died last year. (He was born very sick and never left the hospital.) There have definitely been times when she wanted to be alone. But a simple hug can be very healing.
Beautifully written, too.
Last fall, when we miscarried, the stunning silence we got from most of our friends was one of the most painful parts of the experience. Although I understand they were reacting like you, it surprised and disappointed me to no end.
PLEASE do not underestimate the power of reaching out and not having anything to say. Some of the sweetest words to me, were from friends that said, "I have no idea what to say. But I love you and I'm praying." A hug around the neck and that's all it took. It allowed me later, when I was ready, to reach out to those that I knew were open enough to expose their discomfort, so that I could share my discomfort. Which eventually leads to healing.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts here. More people need to come to this realization to help others heal. Isn't that what we should do when we're brothers and sisters in Christ?
Just found your blog recently and have loved reading...had to comment on this post!
What a gift you just gave to your friend. As someone who has buried a child, the constant silence and uncomfortable stares were at times to much to bear. There really are no words that need to be said....the people that just cried with us and told us they loved us were the ones who were not afraid to enter into our grief with us. Grief is a scary thing...but made less scary when those around you are willing to stand by you no matter the cost.
You are a precious friend to her and I'm sure she is thankful for you and the love you offered to her. Don't be afraid to ask her, "How is your heart?" and be ready to just listen and cry.
So true...I know I have given people space, when I needed to be there for them...because I didn't have the words to say and I was afraid I would say something wrong. Now,I do just like you...express love and concern...just letting them know I care about them. People are encouraged by that. It has taken me a long time to figure that out, though.
It sound like you have been a sweet friend to these hurting parents. I will continue to pray.
Kim
When my MIL died, it was the presence of people that supported us or the meaningful hug or look that meant more than any words. Honestly, I don't remember the things people said. Actions truly speak louder than words.
Thank you for sharing their time with us. I hope you use your two arms to hug them often and add an extra squeeze for me. I can not imagine their loss or pain.
Oh, Erin. I will lift this family up. You are so right about grief. It is the being there...not even the words...that matters most.
I'm just getting caught up on reading, Erin (my in-laws are here) and am so sorry to read this.
We have a pastor in our church who had two sons with MD, and one recently passed away. I was so paralyzed by fear of saying the wrong thing that I said nothing--and then, after Addie was born, I realized that suffering is universal, and I wrote his wife a card and said the right things this time. You have such a precious, tender heart, that you don't have to worry about saying the wrong thing, dear friend.
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