lessons i learned in cpe: #4. showing up is more important than knowing what to say

        Since the start of January when my chaplaincy internship at St. Mark’s Hospital began, I’ve been in a process of reflection about how we as humans relate to one another—and particularly how we deal with grief and pain.  There were some wonderful “lessons learned” through that experience, and hopefully they’ll be as helpful for you as they have been for me.    
 
If you’re interested in Lessons 1-3, please click here, here, and here (respectively).  And without further ado... Lesson #4:
 
Showing up is more important than knowing what to say.
 
You know the situation that’s implied here, right?
 
Someone lost a loved one.
Someone lost a job.
Someone got a bad diagnosis.
Someone got divorced.
Someone is suffering with depression.
Someone’s kid just got incarcerated.
Someone’s humiliating secret just got shared...
 
That kind of situation.
 
I heard about a lot of these from patients in hospital rooms.  Even if it had nothing to do with why they were there, they needed to talk about them anyway.  And it’s nice when someone shows up to listen or pray or help process.
 
It’s possible that this lesson’s phrase may not be new to you, but perhaps the practice of the phrase still is.  Some individuals are loving comforters by nature (these people are saints—don’t take them for granted), but many of us struggle when the people around us are in pain.  We may feel sad or awkward.  We don’t know what that person needs.  We don’t know what to say.  We don’t know whether to acknowledge the elephant in the room or try to make them feel better about it or avoid it altogether.  We don’t know if it’s rude of us to be happy or “normal” around them.  We worry about saying the wrong thing, so we choose to stay away.  We “give them time” or “let them have their space.”  We don’t show up.
 
Let me tell you a little secret: that kind of avoidance speaks more to your discomfort than it does to their suffering.
 
I’m not judging anyone here, by the way. I do the same thing all the time.  I’d rather people think of me as a kind and thoughtful person so if there’s a chance that I’m going to accidentally offend or burden someone, it’s safer to save our interactions for circumstances that are more predictable.  At the very least, it’s easier for me.      
 
But it’s precisely that ease that makes it very lonely for the person who is experiencing the pain.  I can tell myself it’s about them, but odds are it really isn’t.  Unless they’ve specifically asked for space or time, it usually means a lot to people to know that someone is willing to sit in the boat with them and ride out the storm.  We humans are relational creatures.  One of the first things God said is, “It is not good for the man [or humans in general] to be alone” (Genesis 2:18). 
 
Don’t kick yourself if you’ve messed this up in the past.  I think it’s safe to say we all have, and still do.  And over-bearing concern (the other end of this spectrum) doesn’t help a lot either. It’s not your job to fix them or their situation.  Seriously, not your job.  Empathizing to the point of taking on someone else’s pain is not going to help them.  It’s just going to make them feel like they need to comfort you and that’s not their job.  You’re not their Savior.  That’s Jesus’ job.    
 
But please, when you see someone you love—or even someone you know—who’s in pain or struggling with something, don’t walk in the other direction.  Just show up... even if you don’t know what to say.
 
And in case you’re really bothered by that and are looking for some pointers to keep in your pocket, here are a few suggestions:
 
Please DO NOT say:
 

“Everything happens for a reason,” or “It’s all in God’s will.”  Even if this is part of your theology, it is not what they need to hear right now.

 

“At least… [fill in the blank here].”  Looking on “the bright side” will not help them work through their pain; it just encourages them to bury it.

 

“Just give it time.”  While the expression “time heals all wounds” may carry some truth, they’re still in this moment when it still hurts.  Acknowledge that instead.   

 

“You’ll get over it.”  No, no, no, no, no.  People don’t just “get over” things.  But they can learn to incorporate them into their larger stories if given the opportunity to do so.

 

“Let me know if you need anything.”  This one may sound surprising (and there may also be times for an exception), but in general, when you say this, you’re putting the burden on them to reach out for support if they need it.  The truth is, they do need it.  And by showing up before being asked you’ll be doing a lot more good. 

 
Please DO say instead:
 

“I don’t know what to say . . . but I’m here for you regardless.”

 

“I know this sucks, and I love you.”

 

“It’s okay to be sad/angry/confused/numb/[whatever it is that they’re feeling].”

 

“Do you want to talk about what happened? (And, if not, that’s okay, too.)”

 

“Here, I brought you food.  Would you like me to stay?  If not, I’m happy to drop it off and check in again some other time.”

 
This is not an exhaustive list, but somewhere to start.  If you’ve been in a tough situation and have other “please don’t” or “please do” suggestions to add, you are welcome to share them.  It’s always helpful to hear it from someone who’s been there.  And if you’ve been subject to loneliness or painful comments by others in your time of grief, please forgive those of us who’ve made your difficult situation harder.  We know not always what we do.  But we love you still. 
 
 

“For if they fall, one will lift up the other; but woe to one who is alone and falls and does not have another to help.” 

–Ecclesiastes 4:10