Let the storm rage on….

Someone taught me a very important lesson about the ministry of presence.  I remember when my best friend's father died a few years back from lung cancer she told me about the funeral and invited me to come.  I didn't want to go as I don't like funerals.  But then who really likes them except maybe a necrophiliac.   My other half told me I needed to go.  He said it wasn't about me but that as her friend I need to be there.  I reluctantly went and I went very late.

It was a huge Catholic Church and frankly I was quite intimidated by its sheer size.  I still remember the keening wail of her mother's cry of anguish.   She was speaking creole so I didn't understand a word but a wail of pain in any language is easily recognizable. When the service ended my friend came out and when she saw me all she said to me was "Sharon, my dad is gone."  We have laughed together, gotten drunk together, philosophized and caused mischief together but that was the first time ever we cried together only the way 2 people who are intimately connected can cry.  As my arms wrapped around her, I felt her pain enter into me and her grief became mine.  For a brief moment we weren't alone.  I never did say a word just cried my heart out with her.  And thus, I learned about the ministry of presence.

I am torn because I feel I should tell my closest friends.  I don't know how because nothing I say can prevent them from showering me with their sincerest sympathies.  English was never my first language though to listen to me you'd never know.  But I've decided that the words "condolences" & "sympathies" are the cheapest words in the English language.  Somehow saying them absolves us from the uncomfortable responsibility of forging human connection with someone who's alone in their pain.  

I've been sent a few "I'm praying for you", "you're not alone", "call me if you need anything", & such phrases.  It's tough to find a politely correct response to this.  I'm curious how exactly are you praying for me?  Why are you if you don't know me?  Maybe it's a bit harsh but only two people actually made me feel less alone, one simply let me talk and just listened.  She asked if I was having a moment when I broke down and cried earlier and didn't feel the need to express more.  Another simply came, found me, and hugged me before going back about her business. 

So before you think this is a veiled attempt to gain your sympathies or my way of venting, let me assure you, that is far from my aim.  My point is simply this, stop handing out platitudes of sympathy as if they were Halloween candy.  Choose instead to minister through your presence.  No one really needs as many friends as Facebook dictates you have.  All anyone really wants is an Aaron to their Moses.