When news of Josiah's murder began to spread throughout the community a friend from co-op told me her son was murdered nearly 18 years ago and when I was ready, she was available to talk.
I have begun to think of questions I'd like to ask if the opportunity arose. We got a few minutes on a recent co-op day, and I asked her 1. Did you get justice for your son (no), and 2. Did people make comments like "these" to you (absolutely not).
No?
I thought these were typical comments.
Her granddaughter was with her and shared unless someone has lived what we are living they really shouldn't be telling us what to do or how to feel.
From the responses of several nearby I realized the comments we have been receiving are not the norm.
Before going any further I must state the love and care we received from the Christian community and our community at large has been amazing! There were meals, hugs, cards, groceries, gift cards...we wouldn't have made it through those early weeks without the love and support of so many. We leaned hard on so many of you - you are the best.
As time has gone on, however, we began receiving various comments, texts, emails...some within the first month of loss. I shared many of the written communications with my counselor to make sure I wasn't reading them totally wrong. He thinks I tend to see the best intentions in people.
After the response from my friends at co-op, hearing that this family did not hear these comments, I continued to consider...is it ME? I think in part it is. I'm learning I've given far too many people too much access to my inner thoughts and emotions. I think that is a part of it. I have shared freely, others feel comfortable saying to me what they wouldn't say to Michael or another. However, I think there is more.
Sadly, as I considered the comments, I realized all came from well-meaning Christians. It broke my heart a little more. We, of all people, should be compassionate and loving in the face of grief. We are commanded to WEEP WITH THOSE WHO WEEP. Why can't more of us do those simple things? Love each other. Grieve with each other. Why are my friends who don't profess to follow Jesus more willing to listen without judgment? When did we Christians become so uncomfortable with emotions?
I'm being very mindful not to share exact comments, but there are specific comments said or sent to me which have been very painful...all conveying we have grieved enough and it's time to get back to ministry. I extend grace. I forgive. I am wounded as it feels like the love, I thought many had for me was really for how I could minister to them. I am surprised one would think I have to BE AT A CERTAIN PLACE in order to be loved. That feels very transactional rather than unconditional.
Please note I do assume folks are trying to say they miss US...and not simply what we DID for them...but some comments have been more plain than others. You'll simply have to trust me. I shared with my family and counselor and know in my heart of heart that some see life as a transaction. I am not holding up my end of the bargain lately. I'm not where I'm supposed to be, doing what I'm expected to do.
Maybe they can't understand how we ARE still ministering...to each other, to our kids, to the people who routinely grace our table - the strangers who become family. A friend from a chapel where we served stated this season well. Our ministry is micro these days; we've been doing macro for years. Both types of ministries are valid. We are ministering in and through our grief, as we are able to in this season.
But no, I do not think it's time to "get over grieving."
Yes, Paul says we don't grieve as those without hope. He doesn't, however, say we don't grieve!
Every parent I have talked to who has lost a child...through miscarriage, cancer, accident or murder have all said you DON'T get over it...you carry on with it...
WHY are we so bad at grieving as Christians? Our Lord was a man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief. We are to imitate him. He WEPT with Martha and Mary - even KNOWING he was about to RESTORE their brother to them in the here and now. He wept.
Do we feel like we have to always appear full of joy? Do we have a drive to portray nothing of the world can touch us? Do we want badly to "fix it" and when faced with something we can't fix simply revert to "get back to LOOKING normal" as quickly as possible? Do we fail to really listen? Are we too busy to practice the ministry of presence? Are we failing to love one another unconditionally? Are we afraid to look broken to those outside the church?
We can, and must, do better. So many in our broken world are grieving. Can we not be a safe place for their broken hearts? Can we not simply love and sit with them rather than trying to fix them or get them back into the box where we think they fit best? Can we not be honest enough to admit we have no idea how to help, but we're here? Can we not at least refrain from telling someone it's time to quit grieving? Because - if you don't know, you don't know. If you've lost a son in a brutal crime and have words you think are necessary to share - I'm all here. I'm actually all here when folks say the hurtful things - I KNOW many are trying to help - but we can do better. It's sad when the world would never dare to say to a grieving mom the things which have been said repeatedly by well-meaning Christians. Maybe because the world doesn't expect me to ever be whole?
I do not grieve as one WITHOUT HOPE. I have hope Jesus will take every broken piece of my life and make something beautiful and useful from it. HE truly is the only one who can "fix me." He will do that. Maybe we simply have to step back and BE THERE, LOVE and leave all the fixing to One who is qualified to step into that role.
I see a Christian counselor. He would be sure to tell me if I were grieving in an unhealthy manner. He has affirmed my thoughts and instincts on much of this and has helped me work my way through to grace while still maintaining healthy internal boundaries.
As I left co-op all these thoughts were swirling through my mind. I pulled into traffic, up to a traffic light, right behind this car.
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