Understanding the Grief of Others

We really can't understand what we haven't experienced.

Or, more honestly, we'd like to understand it WITHOUT having experienced it.

I'd love to nod and give perfect wisdom to dear friends who experience pain and grief.

And it's so easy to give advice to someone who is indescribably burdened.  We quote verses and tell them to trust God.  We say 'This too shall pass."  And we go home.

Admittedly, it's very difficult for me to walk alongside someone who needs me in a crisis. Sometimes I want to cut and run.

I grieve as I watch friends and other loved ones suffer.  I want to get into the mix and fix it.

I want to hire a ninja.

But since I can't, all I can do is BE with the sufferer.  Not to say things or to heal anyone.  Just to be a calm/protecting presence in the crisis.

Only then can we begin to understand the grief of others.

Truth Hurts

Truth is really difficult to accept when it's someone elses' truth.

You find yourself somewhat confused and quite aggravated to discover what you thought was reality may not have been real after all.

I'm thinking of the times I've skipped merrily along thinking everything was cool. At the time I was probably even gloating about just how cool everything was. I had my thoughts figured out, my faith figured out, and even my relationships were neatly arranged in a perfect order.

How painful it is when I'm stopped short by a truth encounter I never expected.
And I feel that kind of pain now.

Some of my pain is grief because a friend of mine 'quit' me today. I feel sick and a little lost, trying to remember or figure out what I did wrong and what signals I'd missed over time.

Another element of pain is self-blame that I could be so clueless about someone else's feelings. I mean, I WORK with emotions for a LIVING. How could I have been so unaware of my own friends' feelings?

I'm fighting the old memories of another friendship that ended abruptly and badly.
All the fears, recriminations and rejections are right here in front of me.

But I know I have to be strong in order to hear the truth and learn from it.

Truth isn't always happyland.

So I'm spending the next little bit seeking God's truth and how it applies to me.

Hopefully I'll be able to accept the truth about myself and the difference between HAVING a friend and BEING a friend.

The Truth Hurts

It's really easy to discuss truth and it's merits when it applies to someone else:
THEY should understand the truth,
SHE needs to get her act together,
HE needs to accept what's really going on.

I've discovered that it's an entirely different story when the person who must acknowledge the truth turns out to be YOU.

Isn't it remarkable how even our description of events slants heavily in our defense, i.e.,
"I 'only' wanted to help, "
"I'm 'just' telling you how I feel,"
"I'm 'confused' by your reaction."

The blame, however, sounds like this:
"You're 'crazy' if you think I'm wrong,"
"You're 'selfish' to not appreciate me,"
"They are 'disrespectful' by forgetting my birthday."

As we discuss the value of truth, let's not overlook a very crucial component of it:

Telling OURSELVES the truth.

I think it's interesting to observe the many times I/we/they/you rationalize our own thoughts and behaviors. We don't fully investigate just why we want to do and say this stuff. We go off on a rampage, often with good intentions, trying to do something we think is good and right.

Then we are totally annihilated to learn we've blown it and caused trouble.

Maybe the person we helped didn't want or need it.
Maybe the comment we thought would help turned out to be the worst thing ever to say.
Maybe, with good intentions, we tidied up and accidently threw away Aunt Tillies' ashes that were stored in that old, broken box on the shelf.

Oops.

So after the fact, we are faced with hurt, bewilderment, confusion. You feel shock that something you thought was a good thing turned out to be a terrible thing after all.

Here come the choices you have to make:
1). You could become angry. Self-righteous anger always sounds good at the beginning. You could rant and rave and tell everyone you know how misunderstood you are. Plus the story, over time, will become even bigger and your victimization can grow exponentially.

2). You could become a martyr. There's some satisfaction to be enjoyed when you convince yourself and everyone else how you give and give and THIS is what you get for it.
Mankind might even construct a statue in your honor someday.

3). Or you could do the hard work of trying to see how your action or comment really came across to the other person:
Was I sensitive?
Was I timely?
Did it have to be said and/or done the way it was?
Did I assume a reaction that couldn't have occurred?
Did I try to manipulate or pressure the other person to give in to me?
Was the situation necessary or could it have waited?

Here's the thing about being truthful to yourself: it's HARD. It's hard to admit you messed up if you answer the above questions in a way that reveals your fault.

But it's important to be able to tell yourself and admit the truth.
The truth says, yes, I meant well (maybe) but it was done poorly. I messed up. I need to reexamine my intentions. I need to determine how I can avoid that calamity again.

It hurts. But the pain associated with telling yourself the truth is a healing pain. It isn't designed to maim and destroy but to help aid growth and enhance character.

Think about your relationships. Remember your surprise and delight when someone dear to you admitted they were wrong about something (not that they 'gave in' and you won the fight) and apologized. Recall the respect you felt for their ability to admit a mistake and be strong enough to tell you.

Please don't fear telling yourself the truth. No judgements or criticisms. Just the truth.

Then move on.