the morning my dad died at home, a resident of my parent's building came downstairs to tell my mom that the ambulance woke him up. her very gracious response to his irrational complaint still makes me proud. (truth be told, i may have punched him.)
"i'm so sorry, _____", she said. "that must have been so hard for you."
i couldn't help but think of this as i read a copious amount of hate comments spewed at those who called 911 over the most recent amber alert.
now, let it be said that i find the fact that people were pissed enough to call 911 and complain extremely sad (and the outcome, much sadder), but people are people and people are selfish, and if we're honest, we can all put ourselves in the selfish category at times.
i'm there now, actually.
in the next four weeks, i have to look for a place to live, pack and get my room ready for sale, plan for, and host, two back to back teams, get some more fundraising done so i can continue to host more students, study for (and write) an exam (i crushed three questions today) and meet with a panel to discuss it before writing a paper and meeting with an even bigger panel, AND make it to ottawa in time for the birth of my nephew, jensen joseph, when i get the call to do so.
the thing is, although i tend to thrive when i'm busy (i would take this over being bored any day), it feels like a lot. i have to continually remind myself to take one day at a time, to take deep breaths, and allow myself to shut myself off from the world (for the most part) in order get things done.
my friends and family have always been a priority to me. i take pride (maybe that's the wrong word) in my ability to drop things and show up for them, and as a two (the helper) on the enneagram, i find it extremely hard not to; helping people is a part of my identity, in fact. but i have to do what i have to do. we all do.
ps. there are, of course, a handful of people who i would (still) drop (almost) anything for - you know who you are - and when push comes to shove, i still need human connection and a bit of a social life, both of which keep me (arguably) sane.
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
Monday, February 4, 2019
i gotta say it.
our society has become lazy when it comes to fostering community and nurturing friendship.
we can preach the importance of community and retweet bell let's talk videos and hashtags until we're blue in the face, but what happens when a friend really needs to talk? or when someone we know is struggling, or grieving?
we like a status, send a quick "praying for you" text (which is better than nothing and all we can do at times, i know), or put the ball in our friend's court and assume they'll pick up the phone and call if they 'need to.'
i recognize that some of us don't know what to do or how to help; it is for those of you who fall into that category that i write this blog. (disclaimer: i'm no expert; i fail at this at times, too, but i've learned a few things along the way.)
first, a few don'ts:
don't say "call me if you need anything". while the person who is depressed or grieving may pick up the phone to make a call once in a while, this is highly unlikely. the one in deep pain (especially in regards to grief) shouldn't be in charge of reaching out. pick up the phone. if they want to talk, they'll answer, and if they don't, they know you care.
don't expect a response right away (sometimes, ever). i'm weird in the sense that i will (eventually) reply to every single message i receive, but not everyone has the energy to. either way, the person you send texts/emails/mail to reads all of them, and appreciates your sentiment. being thought about is helpful, but backing it up with action is even more so.
don't assume anything (more in this below.)
secondly, the do's:
let the wounded lead. ask questions. see where they're at. don't assume that they want to talk. they may just need a break from thinking or an excuse to leave their room.
example: my friend adriana was the perfect person to greet me at the airport the day after my mom passed away. she hugged me, asked me how i was in that moment, and then asked me what i felt like doing. in that particular moment, i felt like being normal. we went out for lunch and caught up on life, hung out with her dog, watched suits [staring at harvey spector is healing], and then when i needed to, i processed what happened the morning before and cried. she didn't assume how i was feeling and act accordingly; she asked me how i was feeling, and let me lead.
enter into their pain. we tend to distance ourselves from our loved one's pain because we feel uncomfortable, and/or avoid the elephant in the room because we feel awkward. but here's the thing (and i have to remind myself of this when the tables are turned) - we're called to "rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn" (romans 12:15), and your friend's struggle with grief (or mental illness) isn't about your comfort level, it's about theirs.
and lastly, and maybe even most importantly, be practical.
if a friend's loved one is in the hospital and you have an extra $20, give it to them. hospital parking is disgustingly expensive. so is eating in the cafeteria every day.
pick up the phone. send flowers or a card. make a meal. take them to a movie.
show up.
i mentioned a man name job in one of my most recent blogs. this dude knew pain. he had everything (ten kids, thousands of animals, a ton of servants, and good health), and lost everything just like that. i referred to him as an example of suffering in my last blog, but this time, i want to highlight his friends. we pick up the story in chapter two starting at verse 11:
"when job’s three friends, eliphaz the temanite, bildad the shuhite and zophar the naamathite, (i would totally give them nicknames) heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. when they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, (they entered into his pain) and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. then they sat on the ground with him (they showed up) for seven days and seven nights. no one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was"
but then, in chapters four, eight and eleven, job's friends open their dumb mouths, and, in an attempt to find a solution to his pain (can anyone relate?), they start blaming him and his sin for his loss (which, as you'll notice from reading chapter one, isn't the case at all).
take it from their example, don't try and figure life (or death) out, make excuses as to why something is happening to one of your friends, or feel the need to come up with a solution. though job's friend's fell into that trap the second time, they had it right the first; they showed up, felt his pain, and sat with him in it.
and that's all most of us need when we're struggling, too.
ps. we are not meant to carry our loved one's burdens in their entirety; there are times where professional help is needed and should be encouraged. do so firmly but gently, and (usually) in the form of a question (i.e do you think seeing a counsellor would help you?)
our society has become lazy when it comes to fostering community and nurturing friendship.
we can preach the importance of community and retweet bell let's talk videos and hashtags until we're blue in the face, but what happens when a friend really needs to talk? or when someone we know is struggling, or grieving?
we like a status, send a quick "praying for you" text (which is better than nothing and all we can do at times, i know), or put the ball in our friend's court and assume they'll pick up the phone and call if they 'need to.'
i recognize that some of us don't know what to do or how to help; it is for those of you who fall into that category that i write this blog. (disclaimer: i'm no expert; i fail at this at times, too, but i've learned a few things along the way.)
first, a few don'ts:
don't say "call me if you need anything". while the person who is depressed or grieving may pick up the phone to make a call once in a while, this is highly unlikely. the one in deep pain (especially in regards to grief) shouldn't be in charge of reaching out. pick up the phone. if they want to talk, they'll answer, and if they don't, they know you care.
don't expect a response right away (sometimes, ever). i'm weird in the sense that i will (eventually) reply to every single message i receive, but not everyone has the energy to. either way, the person you send texts/emails/mail to reads all of them, and appreciates your sentiment. being thought about is helpful, but backing it up with action is even more so.
don't assume anything (more in this below.)
secondly, the do's:
let the wounded lead. ask questions. see where they're at. don't assume that they want to talk. they may just need a break from thinking or an excuse to leave their room.
example: my friend adriana was the perfect person to greet me at the airport the day after my mom passed away. she hugged me, asked me how i was in that moment, and then asked me what i felt like doing. in that particular moment, i felt like being normal. we went out for lunch and caught up on life, hung out with her dog, watched suits [staring at harvey spector is healing], and then when i needed to, i processed what happened the morning before and cried. she didn't assume how i was feeling and act accordingly; she asked me how i was feeling, and let me lead.
enter into their pain. we tend to distance ourselves from our loved one's pain because we feel uncomfortable, and/or avoid the elephant in the room because we feel awkward. but here's the thing (and i have to remind myself of this when the tables are turned) - we're called to "rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn" (romans 12:15), and your friend's struggle with grief (or mental illness) isn't about your comfort level, it's about theirs.
and lastly, and maybe even most importantly, be practical.
if a friend's loved one is in the hospital and you have an extra $20, give it to them. hospital parking is disgustingly expensive. so is eating in the cafeteria every day.
pick up the phone. send flowers or a card. make a meal. take them to a movie.
show up.
i mentioned a man name job in one of my most recent blogs. this dude knew pain. he had everything (ten kids, thousands of animals, a ton of servants, and good health), and lost everything just like that. i referred to him as an example of suffering in my last blog, but this time, i want to highlight his friends. we pick up the story in chapter two starting at verse 11:
"when job’s three friends, eliphaz the temanite, bildad the shuhite and zophar the naamathite, (i would totally give them nicknames) heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. when they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, (they entered into his pain) and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. then they sat on the ground with him (they showed up) for seven days and seven nights. no one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was"
but then, in chapters four, eight and eleven, job's friends open their dumb mouths, and, in an attempt to find a solution to his pain (can anyone relate?), they start blaming him and his sin for his loss (which, as you'll notice from reading chapter one, isn't the case at all).
take it from their example, don't try and figure life (or death) out, make excuses as to why something is happening to one of your friends, or feel the need to come up with a solution. though job's friend's fell into that trap the second time, they had it right the first; they showed up, felt his pain, and sat with him in it.
and that's all most of us need when we're struggling, too.
ps. we are not meant to carry our loved one's burdens in their entirety; there are times where professional help is needed and should be encouraged. do so firmly but gently, and (usually) in the form of a question (i.e do you think seeing a counsellor would help you?)
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