Every single life experience makes us who we are, even the difficult moments of our lives. Resilience and survival are instincts we need. They're forged through suffering. We can’t remove the trauma, but we can learn to handle the sharp pieces, learn to use them. Every experience is a tool, even the hard ones. When they mix with love, compassion, and empathy, you can become a beacon to those on difficult paths.
If you’re called and invited into rooms where families are gathered and facing a personal trauma, go. They may be waiting with a sick loved one or they may be wading through that long goodbye as life ebbs away. If you’re called because someone has died, answer the call. Go where you're needed, when you're needed, even if it's extremely difficult for you. This is an extraordinary honor. God reveals astounding grace in these moments.
Do you understand the intimacy, the vulnerability, and the sacred privacy of these times in the lives of families? These are people whose lives are woven together over decades. They've shared joy and tragedy. They've seen one another hurt, angry, joyous, petty, gracious, terrified, courageous, sick and broken. They share a series of experiences known only within the boundaries of family, hidden from public view. This is not only a time of tremendous emotions, but also a time of intense privacy. They know they don't look their best. They know weeping doesn't create pretty faces. This is among the most personal and private moments in the lives of these people. Yet, they trusted you enough to call for support.
I've answered such calls a few times. Someone opens the door. I’m an outsider, yet there I stand. In the middle of tears and waiting, stories and waiting, and prayers and waiting, I am there if they want me to be there. I’d feel so awkward and ready to bolt if I did not understand the great truth and the great honor. They’re not waiting for me to say something that will answer all their questions, or lift their pain, or cause tears to cease. I am there because they called. Maybe my presence can somehow help them share the burden or distract them from it for a little while. I don’t know much, but I do know this, sometimes just being there is what people need.
I pray that the touch of my hand carries with it at least the faint comfort of God’s hand. I pray my tears convey God’s care. I’m there because, I hope, I'm a messenger, a reminder, a reflection of God’s love. It's a great calling to go into those homes and rooms where families are drawn together by love and pain, to walk with them through part of their trauma, even through the valley of the shadow of death.
Being a compassionate human with people facing life-changing or life-ending transitions shapes us. The images of tear-streaked faces impact one’s perceptions forevermore. These experiences are forging you. Be a comfort. Answer their call with your loving presence.
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