"your love is too way too much
to give us lesser things."
laura story
almost two years ago when mom was first admitted to the hospital for returned breast cancer and collapsed lungs -- i'm very grateful. two whole years! two more please? actually, at least ten?
When it comes to "actually loving and good and supportive support" I'm finding myself grateful for three kinds: those who are understanding, those who understand and those who know.
Thank you, understanding ones. Thank you for you patience, gracious spirits and lack of demand. Thank you for understanding the unanswered note, email, text and phone call, and for sending them anyway. Thank you for holding us to different standards and not expecting more than we can do. We probably aren't particularly close. You know of us, or know one of the children, or maybe used to be friends with mom or dad at some point and you care. We aren't intimate, but you do what you can. Your heart sinks a bit at sad news, and is genuinely warmed at good news. You bring meals, or pray, or wrap presents, or fold laundry, or think of us and it means so much. Thank you for being the fuzzy sea out in the distance -- we see you, we know you're there, you make life better. The sun reflects off of you and its dazzling. Thank you, understanding ones.
Thank you, those who understand. Those who under us stand. You're like a bridge, holding us up and being rather strong. Maybe you have not quite walked our shoes, but you're throwing yourself into being as available, helpful and sensitive as you can. You understand what life looks like for us, and you know what to ask, and you "take the hints." We're close and you're the sort of friend who drops anything. "I'm on my way. Give me 15 minutes." You can joke with us about baldness, and pray with us without making us uncomfortable, and when you come in our house there is increased joy. Thank you for defending us and having our back. Some might wonder why we do so much if we can't keep up with it all -- you understand the deep desire to try to keep normalcy, tradition. You know how much mama bear wants to watch her husband coach her boy. So we add it to our lives, even if there is no more room -- even if other people are washing their jerseys. Thank you for, in so many ways, holding us up. Thank you for not making us feel bad when we call or ask for things -- it's not fun to do, but you don't make us feel stupid. Thank you, you really do understand.
Thank you, those who know. Also, I'm sorry too. I'm sorry you know. I'm sorry you've been on this side. I hate this for all of us. Thanks for not freaking out when I start crying, thanks for crying too. Thanks for affirming that it's normal to eat salted caramel pretzel ice cream with your fingers in a parking lot (even though you're supposed to be losing weight). Thank you for knowing how you can be exhausted on every level and yet not be able to sleep. Thank you for knowing that sometimes there is more to a person than being professional at work; that sometimes people have long, hard days and gosh it makes a world of difference when someone is human with you and not "business business!" with you. We can feel like we're the rocks. Not because we're solid and dependable and sturdy. But because we're dark, laying in the dirt, and cold. We can sometimes feel like there is a world of balloons. Not because they are air-heads or childish. But because they are colorful, and flying high!, and having a great view. Why can't we be the balloons? I love parties. You know how badly scripture can sting, or how completely empty it can feel. And oftentimes just having someone who nods their head, says nothing, and lets tears slide down their face can speak more to God's presence, kindness and heart than anything else.
We've had our "trials that no one brings dinner for." The depression, rebellion, isolation, betrayal, silent and alone hardships. The ones where your character is skewed, your motives are harshly judged, your mistakes are aired and your trust is broken. We're grateful that today is not one of those kinds of burdens. We're grateful that we have love coming out of our ears and literally filling our bellies. Thank you for your empathy and for "giving us your very selves."
God is in our midst; He's here through you.
Ps. ^ This is so concise, poignant and true. If you want a little tid-bit on loving people in in sad places, this is excellent. "Empathy fuels connection... empathy is feeling with people."