Sunday, April 29, 2012

Can I offer you some hope?

What do you do when someone you love is broken? Emotionally, spiritually and physically broken. I have a dear friend who is dealing with this situation right now. Someone who is precious to her is broken. And she can't fix them. What do you do? Bring them dinner? OK, that's pretty much what I do, but really, don't you feel like a dork doing that? "Hey, I know your whole world just collapsed and you don't know how to take your next breath, so I made you this casserole." Ugh! So frustrating, because what you really want to do is show up and save the want to make all the bad stop, heal the hurt, go back in time and rearrange things. You want to whip out the miracle they need to get back to "normal." You want to truly deliver peace and love and healing. But all you can do is take one less burden off their shoulders. (They gotta eat, right?) All you can do is sit with them. And hold their hand. Cry. Pray. Be frustrated. Offer hope. That's a good one...How do you "offer hope?" What does that even mean? Say something to make them feel better? They're not going to feel better! If you're anything like me, you're more likely to say something incredibly stupid then comforting, and then they'll feel worse. And then you apologize and they end up comforting you, "It's OK. Thank you for your concern...." or whatever. So how do we help people? Let's face it, we're not Jesus. Yes, we are supposed to love people like he did and treat them like he did, but part of his treatment involved healing. He HEALED the blind man. And the lepers. He cast out demons. He rose Lazarus from the dead. FROM. THE. DEAD. He NEVER made a casserole!!! I don't think he ever showed up and said, " Sorry about your eyes. I'll pray for you." and then left. He fixed broken people. But we can't do that. We don't have a miracle just burning a hole in our pocket. So, we bake casseroles. And we send cards and flowers. We text messages. "This too, shall pass." Slowly, maybe. Probably painfully. But it will pass. Is that where hope comes in? Knowing that tomorrow, things will be different. The possibility that maybe tomorrow, things will be better. Maybe not, but at the very least, they will be different. We sit in hospital waiting rooms. We hug and hold hands. We make phone calls. We are with them. Is THAT where the hope is? Knowing you are not alone? That whatever hellish road you're on, at least someone is there to walk it with you? I don't know about you, but that would make me feel better! Anyway, I love my friend, and I hope she is ok. I hope her loved one will recover. And I hope she holds on to hope, and that she knows I am with her.


Wyatt Roberts said...

You aren't a dork. You are a warm, lovely, wonderful person and a great friend.