Loss of a child
Suicide
Grief
Cancer
Depression
Divorce
Unraveling relationships
A list of only some of the things those I love dearly have experienced, and shared with me recently--and many of those items have multiple people attached to them. It's been a hot second since I've been out of the pit of despair (depression), and now that I'm breathing fresh air, my eyes have been so very aware of all the hurt and pain around me, including the hurt I'm experiencing personally. The loss of a child stings and burns, and aches so hard it leaves you speechless. Divorce is not what you planned for, hoped for, even wanted, and it leaves you devastated. The call the doctor makes to you to say that things aren't looking good--knocks the wind right out of you. Depression, devastation, loss of home, of security, relationships, the list goes on and on.
So much pain, and in a peculiar time it seems--Christmas--when we're supposed to be singing songs about reindeer and hippos under the tree, and decorating with tinsel and consuming copious amounts of sugar from endless piles of cookies. It feels almost wrong to allow such lament with such happiness. And maybe it feels wrong because it is? Don't write me off just yet, stay with me for a second.
I wonder how much more we might be able to relate to one another if we sit together in the pain and not automatically jump for the happy tunes and egg nog. Nobody likes pain. I should clarify, the majority of individuals with a typical neurodevelopmental maturation do not like pain. IT HURTS! So it makes sense to want to avoid it. I see this often with the clients I work with. Children who are exposed to traumatic events develop coping mechanisms to forget. It is self-preservation. Literally a way to survive. The body says, "hmmm, I choose to focus on walking, talking, developing logic, and this trauma over here is just way too much for me. I don't want a circuit to blow, so...I'll just file that in the sortof forget catalog." And in this situation the coping skill served the person, so we can't write it off as all bad. But later as adults, we never come back to the coping skills we learned as kids. We continue on in avoiding the pain, because pain hurts. It hurts the physical body, it hurts the mind, and deep wounds can hurt the soul at your very core.
So then you get someone who is hurting, and another person who has felt lots of pain in their life recently. When the hurting friend invites the friend with triggers into the pit, they think, "Ahhhhh...too much...too hard...I can't." I love how Brene Brown illustrates this picture of sympathy, "Here's a casserole, I'll be over here, let me know if you need anything." I'm definitely not pointing any fingers here, I have carried out my share of casserole responses. And let's be real for a moment, sometimes it really is too much for you to carry the burden too--for whatever reason. I'm a strong proponant of healthy boundaries, but what if we start changing that story just a little tiny bit?
I was driving today and the thoughts of all that my tribe is going through was swirling around in my mind like a tornado. And like any go-to-angry person (anger is my default emotion) I confronted God.
Why? Why her? Why now? Why more? Hasn't she dealt with enough?
God this loss is too much. It is too much to have part of your heart leave you. Why would you even allow this?
Can't you see he needs a friend? A community? This is the wrong time for all of this.
Cancer in multiple friends is just too much for ME. What the hell.
I felt a little better getting it off my chest, but wasn't super thrilled at the silence on the other end. Then I drove by a nativity scene in someone's yard and things started moving in slow motion for me. I couldn't fight back the tears anymore.
Why would you even come to this earth where there is so much pain...and why can't you help your people...what kind of God allows their children to suffer...and what do you CARE anyway?!
I instantly got a picture in my mind of this teenage woman who just gave birth. She was staring at her child as all of time stood still. The Savior of the World. And yet in that tear-stained moment of mine, it felt like such an empty promise. The world is in such disarray right now, and if you don't know what I'm talking about, please make some room for me in that cave you're living in. Refugees are fleeing all over the globe. Terrorism, violence, and hatred are in every nation. Even Creation is groaning and making her displeasure known in storms and fires and earthquakes and floods. Foreign politics are feeling about as stable as this president is with controlling his Twitter account. Racism, interpersonal violence, human trafficking, equal rights, should I go on? All of that wrapped up in a baby that is supposed to save the world.
I think about how much Jesus must have changed Mary's life. Any parent can relate of course, but I mean, how remarkable to have learned so much from The Divine in a child that you had an intimate relationship with. A child that you saw grow, and become a man. A man that you witnessed time and time again, reach down deeper to the very being of each person, to say, "I know you. I love you. I desire, you." Jesus changed the world in relationships, one person at a time. He wept over his friend's death. He touched people that were banished to live outside the city and had not been touched in who knows how long. He sought authenticity in the human experience. And part of me wonders if it was all a beautiful example of what could be between you and me. What if we looked one another in the eye and sat with each other in our depression, in our loss, in the grief, the pain that feels so strong it could sweep you away entirely. What if its only about that? And what if there isn't a single rule or regulation, or law, but just love. And what if we didn't abandon each other in our darkest moments. Like moments of incredible pain, like childbirth, or death on a cross, or insert your personal hurt here.
I don't always get it, or get it right, or even say something worthwhile, but I have to believe that none of that matters. Because when words fail to express empathy, I think connection shines through amidst the hurt. I don't like it, it's uncomfortable, and maybe even overwhelming at times. But if that baby devoted his life to connecting on a deeper and more intimate level, then I can't imagine any greater way to live a more full and free life.
So what if we go there with each other? Let's lean into the pain together. And maybe in time we will see more of what it means to truly be connected in each beautiful encounter of the goodness within. God Incarnate. I don't think the story has to end with just that one man. Welcome to the depths my friend. I'm so happy to share this space with you.
