Although I am a loser who dwells among losers (for all have lost something or someone), here are my current foci: Kurt (who suddenly lost his mom Kerry a couple weeks ago); Katie (left, Kurt’s wife, who just lost her baby last week, 2 months into term); and Sarah (right, who just lost Nato, her soon-to-be-fiancé, a couple of months ago to suicide).
Last night Lisa and I had nothing planned. A new storm came howling in, so we were ready to tuck ourselves in for a lonely night together. Soon, Katie called and said that she and Kurt wondered if they could come over to talk. Sarah soon called and asked what we were doing and could she come over to visit us. All brought smokes and beers. Lots of talking, ranting, questioning, processing, partying and eventually laughing with Kurt’s famous finger-dance routine. We plumbed the depths and soared the heights. Stay tuned later for a questionable snow-angel.
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I am absolutely exhausted again today. One of our young couples, good friends of mine and part of our church, found out earlier this week that the baby she was carrying had died inside her. So last night she was scheduled for a DNC. I went in with her mother and met the young woman in emergency with her husband. They wanted us to stay with them, so we did. We talked the whole evening away, trying to help distract her from her pain. The emergency room was insane. As always, the staff was overworked and understaffed. Things kept getting postponed and postponed until she was finally tentatively promised midnight. At 12:25 a.m. she was wheeled into the operating room. Less than an hour later we were by her side to comfort her. She was already waking up and talking. This family has been through so much in the past couple of months it’s crazy. This young couple is devastated. There are no words! They told me that for Lent they’re giving up hope. I get that.
I finally got home at 2:30 a.m. Lisa and I talked over a drink until nearly 4 a.m. We are overcome with the level of loss and grief our church is suffering right now. Being a pastor is that: being. It’s not a nine-to-fiver. The other day, someone told me that they heard a preacher say that 2007 is going to be the year of the Lord’s favor. I said I’ve heard that every year now for a decade. Jesus said that he proclaimed the year of the Lord’s favor. It is NOW. Every year is. Like it or lump it! Right now I feel like having a huge, fattening breakfast. Something fried!
A friend of mine got two tickets to the Saint John Annual Wine Fair. He’s taking me because his wife doesn’t like red wine. I’m his date! We went last year and had a blast. I’m looking forward to it. Hundreds of wines to try. Lisa’s taking us there, dropping us off and picking us up when it’s over for reasons that don’t need explaining.
PS: I want to thank everyone for your wonderful comments, thoughts and prayers on my blog. I read every one of them and try to respond personally to every one of them. I honestly appreciate you all.
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Last night was a special night of intercessory prayer at our church. I don’t consider myself an “intercessor” or “prayer warrior” or anything of the sort. I really didn’t want to go. I would rather have, honestly, stayed home and watched Trailer Park Boys with a glass of wine or two. But Lisa said she was going and so, reluctantly, I went with her.
Well, there were only five of us. Three women two men. We just sat around talking for a while. One woman started sharing how on Sunday she was looking around and realized how many of our people, if not all of them, had or were experiencing incredible struggles and unfathomable loss. There is a real sense of heaviness on the congregation. There has been a suicide, another surprising death, divorces, unplanned pregnancies of unwed young women, unemployment, single parenting, teenager rebellions, illnesses, and I could go on and on. She said she came before the Lord one day and just expressed her anguish and concern for the congregation and she sensed the Spirit say, “Just hold on!” Others joined in sharing how real the church is these days, and that it is important to guard people in their loss, grief and suffering. We are not to rush people through their dark valleys, or provide platitudes, or give easy answers. We are to keep silence, to keep a loving vigil over all those who suffer. She said she sensed that we are to learn more and more about grace that doesn’t condemn, judge, or place expectations on others.
As we kept talking, I realized why I didn’t want to come. I was afraid, unconsciously, that there was going to be some hype: “Come on! Let’s get this church out of this dark valley! Let’s pump it up! What’s wrong with us? We have the Lord on our side! We should be triumphant!” I was dreading this kind of evening. So when we were all talking in this way, I immediately realized this and felt an unbelievable sense of relief. I obviously still care what people think. So I was encouraged when there was so much respect expressed for the church, the people of it, and the grace given for exactly where we’re at. I left encouraged and determined to press on. Someone sent me an email this morning after reading my post on grief yesterday and said:
when I read your post, I read the last couple of lines as if you were the protective pastoral ‘tiger’ as it were, guarding the weak and ready to pounce on anyone who dared step into that sacred space of grief and violate it with answers
Humbly, that’s exactly how I felt, and I couldn’t have said it any better. And I’ll catch the Trailer Park Boys tonight… maybe.
The photograph is the creation of my friend Amaris and is called “Future Love“. Thanks Amaris!
John, who just lost his wife Kerry last Sunday, just lost a friend of his today. She was a coworker. Died suddenly. People were worried about how he was going to react when he got the news, so I was informed of the tragedy and immediately went to his house. He’s already on bereavement leave so I knew he’d be home. Other coworkers were already there. After they left, John and I just hung out for another hour or so talking about the loss of his wife and the mystery it’s shrouded in.I’m finding this happens quite often: that people who experience a tragedy sometimes get another one fast on its heels. Job comes to mind. I dare anyone to pretend they have any answers in times like these. Humble silence before the mysterious majesty is the only suitable posture.
The photograph is a creation of my friend Amaris.
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One of the faithful contributors to this blog in the form of comments, Chris Gill, wrote me a personal email yesterday in response to my post about Sarah and I gathering up her boyfriend’s belongings last week. He’s given me permission to post it here for the public. Thanks Chris! Here it is:
Hi David, I just wanted to tell that I really like the painting in your post about Sarah and Nato. It reminds me of some of my favorite walks in the woods during my time as a survival instructor. It’s why I fell in love with Maine. The title throws me a bit though, I never felt lonely. I felt more connected to God in those moments far out in the wilderness than I ever have. I really like it (the painting that is). I have been praying for you and, especially for Sarah, a lot lately.I have only ever known two people who took their own lives and I hadn’t seen them in years before they did it. So, I can’t relate to the struggle that you and your church face. However, I know a Chaplin who gave a weekend safety brief that focused on suicide. He followed the pre-written curriculum issued by the military and left for a long holiday weekend. He received a call that weekend to respond to a service member who had left that brief and went home, got his wife and drove them both off a cliff. The Chaplin took it hard because he felt like he gave the kid the idea during his brief. During his long struggle to deal with that he came to a lot of conclusions about dealing with people who are hurting (whether they are suicidal or not). He threw the issued curriculum in the trash and reflected on the experience. In the end, his conclusions turned out to be very similar to your list of ideas on the subject and his new class on suicide prevention changed the way the military thinks about dealing with these issues (mine as well). My point is, that I feel you have really hit the nail on the head and, I hope you don’t mind, but I copied them and I will be using them in the future. My prayer is that Sarah will continue on her journey leaning on Jesus and held up by you and your church and ultimately finding peace. Stick with those ideas. It will save someones life someday. God bless, Chris
The painting is a creation of my friend, Tina Newlove’s called “Anger Grief Rage”.
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Be There: My philosophy and practice in almost all that I do is to not go into any situation “prepared”. Usually it’s a waste of time. If I’m not prepared just as I am, then it’s too late anyway. So, what I do is I just plop myself into the middle of a situation and let things unfold naturally. The hardest part, in my experience, is just getting yourself in the door. The rest takes care of itself.- Shut Up: Over and over again I’ve received feedback from people after the grieving is over that they were so thankful that I wasn’t “preachy”, but just being quietly present. There’s really not much you can say anyway. People already know all the platitudes and clichés. There’s NOTHING more annoying than hearing them repeated, especially by a pastor, a devout believer or someone who’s got it together. When you do say something, make sure it is in the spirit of the event. Jokes usually aren’t appropriate, although light-hearted stories from the life of the person who died is sometimes okay. Don’t speak platitudes. They kill grief! Just be human and not some kind of positive-attitude guru or faith-hero. Don’t offer quick-fixes like, “You should think of him in heaven now!” or, “She’s in a better place!”, or, “This must’ve been God’s will!” And for God’s sake don’t quote scripture! Read More
Daniel L. Migliore, in his insightful (and hard to find) book, Pastor as Prophet, writes:
If you like this post, or if you'd like to use it, consider buying me a beer.The passion of God not only motivates us to eliminate whatever suffering can be eliminated; it also empowers us to accompany our brothers and sisters into regions of darkness where suffering can no longer be eliminated; it enables and invites us to share suffering where efforts to overcome it prove futile; it frees us to continue a ministry of compassion and shared grief at the point where those who are guided by criteria of utitlity and success cease their efforts.
David Hayward is an artist trapped in a pastor's body, stripping to the essential.
