Friend?

A guy I work with has come up to me a couple of times in the past few months and said, "We should go to lunch sometime." I've answered "OK", but I haven't really intended to spend any time with him. My reason: before I lost my son, we had started to get to know each other, but afterwards he wouldn't come near me.

Maybe he was afraid.

Maybe he didn't know what to say.

Maybe he had a similar loss he wasn't willing to revisit.

I honestly don't know.

I know this happens to a lot of people experiencing loss - they have some "friends" that just don't show up. When trouble comes, they disappear. 

I'm lucky, I've had a number of friends that have hung in there with me. That being said, I've been trying to decide what my response should be to this guy.

I have to admit, my first thoughts have been along the lines of not wanting to waste my time with him. I've considered telling him he might work on being a better friend to others in the future, hopefully with some kindness on my part.

There is only one problem in deciding what I should do: I have done the same thing myself.

A few years ago, a friend of mine lost his wife - a good friend - and I didn't reach out to him for quite a long time. Why? 

Maybe I was afraid.

Maybe I didn't know what to say.

I had never experienced a similar loss.

I honestly don't know - I failed.

How has he responded to me? He's said nothing, only continued to extend friendship. No questions, no embarrassment. He give me time to gain the courage to be the friend I should have been all along. Until recently, I didn't comprehend the grace he'd given me.

It's an ongoing challenge to not think of myself as better than other people.

Jesus said: Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

I guess I've figured out my response.

A Year of Grief: Minefield

I've decided to write a series of posts on living for just over a year with the loss of one of my sons. These are topics that I think are significant in my journey.

Please go here for the introduction.

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Minefield

I feel like I have been dropped in the middle of a minefield – and no matter which direction I choose, I’m going to get hurt. There have been so many decisions we have had to make that lead to pain regardless of our choice. I will give only a few examples, but there are seemingly endless…

Christmas: Do we hang up is stocking or not? If we hang it up, do we put something in it or not? If we put something in it, what do we do with it?

This situation would have seemed trivial to me before my son died. Now I know it’s not. There are all the memories of years past and knowing there will be no future. If it does go up, its “there” after all the ones have taken down by everyone else. We did end up putting it up, and decided we always will. I just sat on the couch and stared at it for a number of hours on Christmas day.

More mines to be stepped on...

Do we attend his high school graduation or not?

Do we clean out his room or not?

Do we give away some of his clothes or not?

What do I say when people ask how many kids I have? What do I say when they ask what they are doing?

Do I keep bringing up my grief with my friends (who are true friends and will listen) or not? Are they just being nice to me? Am I straining our friendship? Can I trust them to tell me when it’s too much? Do I avoid people to try to avoid more mines exploding?

The problem is that every one of these questions, and dozens of others, induce pain. The questions and decisions awaken all kinds of grief. This has happened to me all the time in this first year - continual mines to be stepped on and little bits of me are being blown off.

Before this happened, I would have have given others this advice: Trust God and he will lead you out of the minefield - if you just ask. I now understand that’s insanity. I can trust God all day long, and I will still be hurt by all these things. He has not provided me with some “spiritual map” to guide me safely out if the minefield. He doesn't give me “spiritual anesthetic” to make me think the pain is joy.  I think he is saying “Suffering is your place for the time being. Bear it. Learn from it. Do what good you can in the midst of it.”

I think I will eventually find my way out it with God's help, and I'll never be the same as I was before I found myself there.