I never know what to say when people are hurting. You’d think that once you’ve experienced great loss, shock, tragedy and the like that you’d know what to say. The “perfect” word to comfort. I can’t do that. I’m totally at a loss when tragedy happens to people around me. My mind goes blank. My heart hurts for them. It aches really. It’s almost like a little bit of the scare that’s on my heart begins to bleed a little.
We got a lot of sympathy cards from friends and family when Eli passed away. A lot. They’re kept in a box with Eli’s other things. Most of the things written inside go like this: “I’m so sorry for your loss.” “We’re praying that you’ll be comforted by the Great Comforter.” “Jesus hasn’t left you. We’re praying that you’ll see His peace and love.” These cards were sent with good intentions. I learned a valuable lesson during that time. There are no words for the grieving. I had one favorite card. Inside it said, “There are no words…” and it was signed, “Praying” and our friends names. Those four little words spoke volumes to me. They were right. They didn’t try to comfort me with words. They were honest. There weren’t any words.
Even now grieving with my friends on different levels, there are no words. None. I guess I could try to fake it and pull something out of my butt, but that just doesn’t do.
It’s hard to see God’s glory in tragedy and in grief. It’s hard to see God’s provision and His care for us in the middle of it all. The darkness can be so thick. Yearning for heaven.
I have no words. My heart is heavy. My prayer is for Jesus’ comfort for you. He’s the only one who can.
“Go and tell Jesus; well He knows the human heart; its pangs, its throes; He will not fail Thee, He will be Friend, Comforter and Peace to thee.” ~Elizabeth Prentiss
Going through similar situations here, I now know that there truly are no words.
There’s a little old Chinese lady at my church. Every time I see her now, she walks up to me and gives me a firm hug, takes a step back, holding my shoulders, looks at me, nods twice, hugs me again, and walks away. She gets it. 🙂
And I have learned now what others will need. That there are no words, and that’s okay.