“Sometimes someone isn’t ready to see the bright side. Sometimes they need to sit with the shadow first. So be a friend and sit with them. Make the darkness beautiful.”― Victoria Erickson
I have heard of people who do this...I have always admired them. I have never felt I have done this very well. I almost always find myself at a loss, because words don't work or don't seem to matter in the dark moments. People never really hear them as they are intended, they are like dead darts that drop to the ground, unnoticed, dissipating into nothing.
Learning to shift the energy from my mouth to my heart has been a lifelong pursuit. To silence the lips, push back all the carefully crafted words I love to form so quickly and swallow them is most difficult. It is in these moments when even if your words are good ones, true and right, it doesn't matter......they are wrong.
Anytime two people set out to add a child to their union they will most certainly be confronted with many moments when they will be confronted with a variety of dark places and suffering The first impulse is always to fix. Isn't that what having life experience is all about? To learn how to solve increasingly more complex problems as they accumulate in life? How ironic, that when the darkest suffering comes, less is more..... despite having more wisdom from experience. Maybe the greatest lessons of suffering are not about how to successfully navigate and overcome them.... I wonder more now if it is more about just having much deeper compassion, understanding, and unconditional empathy for others. As if the deeper that well is the better....not a full box of tools to better "fix" people.
Learning how to "sit" with them in their grief is a herculean feat. The conviction required to resist the almost overpowering force to take on their burden is nearly impossible. Isn't it okay to want to take on someone else's burden? To lessen the pain? I grew up with a particular scripture in mind that said
"Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God." Mosiah 8:19
In fact, I am reminded that I made a promise, when I was 8 years old to do this. This scripture was part of my decision to be baptized. This was one of the conditions of that covenant.....That I would somehow figure out and learn to sit with others in grief and darkness as a way to mourn with them when they mourned and to comfort those in need of comfort. I can tell you right now that message didn't sink in until many years later. I learned that it becomes easier to mourn with others when you yourself have passed through fire and hellish experiences. In fact, It is almost impossible to do it genuinely without having your own fair share of disappointment and discouragement. I can say, that when I have tried to apply this scripture as authentically as I can over the years, I have seen it work.
The best way to describe this principle and promise is to experience first yourself. Think about one of your worst moments, you might have been sad, heartbroken, or distraught with despair...... Was the only thing that made it okay something so small or simple as a knowing smile, the hug that had a little extra in it, the tears in a friend's or parents' eyes, that came without words reflecting some semblance of understanding? It wasn't the profound words someone said at the moment, was it? Often, words come landing softly later, connecting the dots and finding a home of meaning, but not usually in the midst of the darkness.
Another thing I have learned is that it is often easier to model this with friends but much more difficult with your own kids. If you haven't built up a pattern of sitting with them in their grief vs. talking your way through solutions then it isn't surprising parents are so ill-equipped to change their approach.
At times darkness arrives as adversity, persistently knocking on our front door begging to be invited in, other times we invite it in quickly through self-inflicted choices. And there are those times when it comes unsuspectingly, cutting through the heart so easily beating the living breath out of us and knocking us flat on the floor.
It was poignant to read about Job in the Old Testament recently. He didn't ask for his trials, they were heaped upon him as a test of his faithfulness. I read with more interest than ever before when his friends gathered from afar, tore their robes, and just sat with him for 7 days.
So they sat down with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his grief was very great. Job 2:13
I closed my eyes and tried very hard to imagine being one of them and what that would have looked like in real terms. It was powerful to role play in my mind's eye what I would have felt after barely recognizing him with the boils on his body and face much less the loss of all his property and family. The jaw-dropping scope of his loss is almost unimaginable to comprehend. Then I thought about 7 days...not 15 min, not 2 hours, or even 8 that they spent. But 7 days. I loved that the author put a timeframe in there. It came to me that it wasn't about an exact time, but rather it was very much about the commitment and diligence in living that covenantal promise. Feeling truly sorry for someone is human, sustaining the ability to mourn with others over time is Godly.
Yeah, I am an adolescent in this space. I would very much like to be an expert right now, because there are those.......yes, those that are so dear to me that I would gladly trade my place with theirs, to escape the biting winds of doubt, the terrible feelings of loneliness, or the crushing weight of confusion they are experiencing. The dread in their gut is almost paralyzing. Oh! That I could take that upon myself and give them relief.... But that isn't the answer. If that really could be done I understand now, that I would only be robbing them of the experience they need to travel in the dark, to feel the weight, to walk with confusion so they can ultimately know of the relief that comes from such travels.
Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness, the LORD shall be a light unto me.
Wherever you sit, I shall sit with you.....wherever you feel alone, I will be close by, just out of arms reach, but close enough. So, I will look for you there.... I will rent my robe, fill my eyes with tears, and sit silently with you in your grief. Whether it be 7 seconds, 7 days, or 7 years.
When you feel the pangs of what might have been, I will take that ride with you, knowing that it is futile maybe somehow we can find beauty in the dark, suffering together knowing that it will lead to light, to Him, the only one that can take our burdens and replace the darkness with light.
Yes, maybe it is worth it after all if that is where the end game leads us.
