Monday, August 03, 2015

An Invitation to Weep With Us


Are there even words to say? Is there any comfort that would suffice? So many things feel like empty phrases or feeble attempts of consolation. When I attempt to talk to Becky, knowing there are so many tears, fears and emotions beneath the surface for both of us, I find myself at a loss for words. I cannot tell her that everything is going to be alright, because it won't be. This road we are on is long, dark, heartbreaking, painful and lonely. I have come to the conclusion that all I can say is that we will make it through, because that I know and getting through is simply going to be crappy. Whatever "through" means, I know we will get there, not because of ourselves, the bootstraps are broken, but we will get there through God's grace and love.

Since we asked for very non-descript help, my lawn was mowed, dog poop scooped, meals have been prepared and gift cards have been received. These have shown us a family we did not know we had. The phone calls, the pints and the text messages have been appreciated and mean so much. And we know it is tough to show us the love of Christ. The tough aspect for us going through Kate's diagnosis is doing so alone. We saw one friend yesterday who just wrapped each of us in her arms, it was a hug that meant more than she knew and that is what we need more often.

Job's friends are notorious for putting their feet in their mouths. Their accusations of Job's sin and wickedness are indeed a large part of the book of Job, but I have often been struck with their initial response:

Now when Job’s three friends heard of all this evil that had come upon him, they came each from his own place, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite. They made an appointment together to come to show him sympathy and comfort him. And when they saw him from a distance, they did not recognize him. And they raised their voices and wept, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads toward heaven. And they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great. ~ Job 2:11-13

A couple years ago, some friends of ours lost their baby and I took these verses to heart, even attempting to feebly emulate them. Now, we need this ourselves. This does suck. We don't know what to say. Seeing Kate and hearing her process through this is gut wrenching for us. No eight year old should be frustrated with the fact that she might not be able to play her DS or even hold a pencil someday. There are no words.

What we need most now are hugs and people asking us how we are, being ready for us to answer quietly or with unbridled truth and pain.
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