March 13, 2018

The Gift of Your Presence

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

– 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

The gift of your presence. That’s how one sweet friend explained it. She found comfort in the friends who had traveled more than two hours to be with her and her family as they said goodbye to her 8-year-old grandson.

No words could restore Connor’s life on this earth. Nothing anyone could say or do would change the bitter reality. It was the silent support, the tight hugs, the being there that provided the strength to get through the days and all those to come.

As I write this, I am just back from a visitation at church. A dear older woman, a pillar in this church I love, died. She was 90. Age doesn’t lessen the grief of her family.

Sadness clouded the eyes of her daughter-in-law. “You understand,” she said, as she grabbed me in a hug. I nodded. It’s been almost a year since my own Mother died. It’s not something you get over. Grief is something to be endured until we are reunited again in heaven. That promise is something to cling to in the moments when the grief feels fresh and comfort far away.

I went because that dear family needed something I could give: The gift of my presence. Honestly, I didn’t want to go. I considered staying home. It’s still hard to be surrounded by mourners clothed in black and heavy-laden with sadness.

Why go? Because my understanding lets me reach out in a way others who haven’t walked this path can’t comprehend. It’s not that they don’t care. They do. It’s that they’ve never felt that depth of grief, that emptiness, that overwhelming sorrow.

So often people hang back because they don’t know what to say. You really don’t have to say anything. “I’m sorry,” carries more weight than a thousand words.  True compassion comes from the heart and carries a strength that lifts us up.

But first, before we can offer up mercy, we have to get beyond ourselves. We must truly consider others first. We must reach out in genuine love and not self-serving grandiose gestures. That type of comfort comes from God.

He is ever present with us and will meet our every need. Frequently, God uses people – you and I – to minister to those He loves. We are the hands and feet of Jesus. I’m sure you’ve heard that before. It’s true. It really is true.

In my own season of grief, I can’t remember all the details. Numbness has a way of dulling that which doesn’t matter. What I remember are the people who showed up. I am forever bound in gratitude to those who cared enough to bring food, place the call, give me a hug. I found comfort in the presence of those who cared enough to come and sit with me during this season of grief.

If you’re hesitant about stepping forward, do it anyway. When you don’t know what to say, just show up. And in the days and weeks that follow, remember that grief isn’t something that goes away when the last casserole dish is returned. Grief lingers and haunts our days. Be vigilant. Reach out. Give the gift of your presence.

February 14, 2016

True Friends Are Rare

A friend loves at all times,
And a brother is born for adversity.

-- Proverbs 17:17

The funeral home is a place you see folks you don’t see very often. Life is busy and good intentions get sidetracked. But these times when we come together to mourn we remember true friendship.

One woman and I shared memories of her mother, who went home more than a year ago. She was stubborn and opinionated, a wonderful Southern cook who would do anything for her friends. Anything. You never had to ask for her support. If you were her friend, she had your back. She didn’t need you to explain anything to her, she knew your heart and that was good enough for her.

Our latest friend to go home was the same way. People packed into the funeral home because she was always willing to help. She volunteered regularly. She loved children. She was a terrific cook. She was loyal and loving and she always had your back.

Last year another friend told us that when all was said and done, we’d be able to count our true friends on the fingers of one hand. She was almost right. Thankfully, we have a few more than that. But most people either didn’t want to get involved or tried to walk a middle line. Neither worked. A true friend is a brother -- or sister -- who is there when adversity hits.

Anybody can be a goodtime friend. You’ve probably got tons of them. They are the rah-rah people. Keep it light. Keep it fun. Keep it upbeat and they are very happy to be your friend. Just don’t expect them to be around if you get sick, lose your job, lose your marriage, have a child get in trouble. You know the type.

But it’s the real friends that touch your heart. The ones who come. The ones who sit with you while your mourn. The ones who help you when you’re too sick to help yourself. The friends who know you, warts and all, and love you just the same.

We buried a true friend yesterday and the world is a gloomier place without her presence. I am thankful she is singing in that heavenly choir and enjoying some much deserved time with Jesus. I am. But, oh, how sad we all are to face the days to come without her by our side.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Reach Out With Comfort

"Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality." -- Romans 12:13

One tradition I love is providing food for those who are coping with a death in their family. It's just something we do, especially in the Deep South. We take food to the house -- wherever the family is staying -- and we feed the family either before or after the funeral service.

I think this may be mostly a Deep South thing. One woman I know tells a funny story involving her northern Virginia daughter. It seems the daughter's friend had a death in her family. Naturally, the woman's daughter took food to the house. People seemed to think she was crazy. Oh well. In my world that just means she was raised right.

We were intended to care for people. It's all through the Bible. Oh, it doesn't say take food to the house of those who are bereaved. But we are to provide care, share our food, take care of widows and orphans. We are to "practice hospitality" whenever we can -- just as Jesus would do.

I hear some of the older folks complaining and worrying that young people today don't take food when they should. They expect the older women to take care of it because they always have. In some cases, they're right. Some younger women are full of excuses. They have children and jobs and responsibilities. Other people do too. One friend, slightly older than me, takes congealed salads. She makes them the night before and drops off the food on her way to work. Whoever is serving knows to look in the refrigerator and place it on the table before the meal. Another friend writes detailed notes for her husband to cook a casserole she prepares ahead. She even writes down when he needs to have it to the designated feeding place. My neighbors, also juggling jobs, kids and elderly parents, buy food at the local deli. It doesn't matter how the food gets there. It just matters that it does.

This is something that churches traditionally have headed up. The Sunday school class hosts the meal that comes before or after the funeral service. But what happens when the person wasn't involved in church? What if they aren't Christians? Are they to be without comfort? Are they to be left cold in their time of heatbreak?

No. They aren't. We are to reach out and provide comfort -- and food -- to those in need. Jesus wouldn't prequalify somebody. Why do we? Of course, we can't take food to everyone's house. But we can look around us and help who we can, because we can.

The local contemporary christian radio station has a promotion going. It's called the drive-thru difference. They urge people to buy the food for the people in the car behind them and give them a short note explaining why. It could be anything. Groceries. Gas. A gift card. Just something to let a stranger know they're important.

No matter how we do it, we need to do something. We need to seize every opportunity to show people how much Jesus loves them by letting them see Him in us. It's about touching lives -- just the way Jesus touched mine and yours.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Family Gives Love Not a Bill

"For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake." -- 2 Corinthians 4:5

I learned something really disturbing yesterday. It truly offended me, which is something few things do anymore. Maybe it's just me. But there's something about a preacher charging to speak at the funeral of a church member that just turns my stomach.

Let me give you a little background. The elderly woman died in December. She'd been a member of a certain church for longer than I can remember. Her daughter and son-in-law also are members of this church. They raised their children, who are my age, in that church.

When the elderly woman died her family naturally scheduled the funeral for the church. The pastor preached. The associate pastor spoke and sang. The pianist played. And the family paid the pastor $150, the associate pastor $100 and the pianist $50 for their services.

I always believed that part of a pastor's job is to bury members of that church. Apparently not. Who knew? It honestly never occurred to me that a pastor charges to speak at a church member's funeral.

I can maybe understand paying the pianist. Though in this case even that is difficult to swallow. I can't imagine charging someone I've known my entire life for my part in her mother's funeral. I just don't need money that badly. I pray I never do.

I realize that for this family spending the money is not a hardship. That isn't the point. A grieving family deserves to be surrounded by their church family. That's what it is. Family. It's why we take food and offer hugs. A pastor is the spiritual leader of that family. You just don't charge people for some things in life. Preaching the funeral of a fellow church member is one of them.