There are many right ways of helping someone who's just lost someone very dear to them. Unfortunately, there are many WRONG ways of offering comfort, and in my experience, most people do it wrong, even when they think they're doing it right. I learned this following two very personal losses (the death of my 17-year-old son, and the suicide of his mother/my wife) eight years later when her unresolved grief became too much to bear).
Here are my experiences, and the lessons I learned from them.
Some years back, my son died instantly in a one-car crash while driving
to early band practice at his high school. We'd delayed letting him get his driver's license
for a year (until he was 17) because we felt he first needed to demonstrate
responsibility. He'd only been driving for 8 days when he crashed. The autopsy
showed no signs of alcohol or drugs - he merely lost control while
driving too fast, skidded out and hit a tree. His seat belt wasn't
enough to save him. Those are the facts.
I reached out to many people for comfort - connecting with my fairly extensive online network of "list-friends." In return, many
people reached out to me o offer me comfort. But instead of offering real help, most of them only made matters worse.
As they "offered comfort," I was shocked to learn how few really
knew how to do that, and how many tried to help me by using this occasion to ease their own grief, while claiming to try and help me with mine.
When someone is in
grief - when someone has suffered a great personal loss - the last thing he or she
wants is to be burdened by other people's losses.
To say, "I know how
you feel, because I've lost someone, too, and I'm here for you ..." that
shows compassion and deep understanding.
But to say, "I know how
you feel because I lost my second cousin in a car crash, she'd been
drinking and slammed into a bridge abutment on I-95, and lingered in
intensive care, like a vegetable, for six weeks until my uncle had to pull
the plug on her, it was the most horrific thing ever ... so yeah, I know
how you feel ..." not so much.
In fact, I'm here to tell you that this approach does NOTHING for the grieving person, except add to their pain and suffering. That all-too-common approach is
all about the "comforter" actually trying to reach out for comfort, to
process his or her own grief.
I was inundated with so many
stories of other peoples' losses - all of them pretending to try and help me (and most of them believing that they were helping me). But
what they were actually trying to do was to work out their own grief. I had just lost my son,
and I was in no shape to offer a shoulder to anyone else for their own
loss. Yet that was what they expected of me - that I would lend them a shoulder, and commiserate with their loss.
I'm sorry, but the
death of my son does NOT equate to their loss of their second cousin ...
to some extent, a loss is a loss, yes, but the closer the person, the deeper the loss. And the more recent the loss, the more jaggedly painful.
But this is what happened, over and over - and believe it or not, one person actually tried to show that he understood my loss because he'd just lost his dog. His dog!
If
you are reaching out to comfort someone who's just experienced a tragic loss, it's OK to say, "I
understand your grief, because I've suffered a loss, too." But leave it at that.
Don't work out the terms of your grief on that person.
Instead, after acknowledging having once experienced a non-specified loss, go on to say, "knowing
what a loss feels like, I am here for you - in any way and every way that I can help."
But then, instead of putting the responsibility for your help on the sufferer by saying, "how can I help?" - go ahead and offer several specific ways you can help. Ask, for instance, "do you need food? Do you need someone to be with you, so you're not alone? Do you need someone to drive you to the funeral
home?" Offer those, or some other material support, then say ... "or anything else you might
need, just know that I'm here for you."
Finally, don't forget the power of God, and the
comfort of the Holy Spirit. You could, of course, say, "I'll pray for you and the
person you lost." But don't just leave it there - take it a step further.
For instance, ask, "would you like me to pray with you
right now (in person or by phone)?" Then, assuming they say yes, make sure your prayer is all
about the person who's suffered the loss (not your own loss), and about
how God can and will help that person.
Going a step further, if the lost person is known to you to be a person of faith (i.e., someone you believe has accepted Christ), you can also talk about how that lost person is now with God. But if you don't know that for a fact, don't go there ... the person who's just suffered a loss may be agonizing about whether their loved one IS with God.
If you have a favorite comforting
scripture, a psalm or words of Jesus (or Paul, or anyone in the bible
who comforted someone), share that, too. If you don't remember the verses verbatim, take a moment to look that scripture up (write it down if you need to) before calling - or calling on -
someone to help with their grief.
So
please, if someone you know suffers a loss, make your comfort specific to
them. Offer meaningful help and support - but don't just offer generalities, offer meaningful specifics.
Not just, "I'll pray for you," but
"can I pray with you right now."
Not just "I understand, because I recently
lost my pet goldfish" but "I understand because I've suffered a loss,
too, so let me help you specifically, by doing a, b and c."
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Miracles Do Happen - Here's Mine
The dictionary defines miracles as: An extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.
In my own words, a miracle is some event that "cannot happen" under the laws of physics, but which happens anyway, in a fashion that defies rational explanation.
By either definition, miracles do happen.
In fact, I believe I'm living proof (literally, living proof) that this is true.
Here is the story of my miracle.
It was probably about 20 years ago. I was out of work, deeply depressed, facing economic collapse and struggling with the aftermath of a broken marriage and the rocks and shoals of a second marriage. I felt a failure - I didn't seem to be able to provide for my family, or to accomplish in myself anything that I'd set out to do. There seemed no way out.
First, I left a note on the kitchen table for my wife to find - not a suicide note but an "I'm out in the garage cleaning my gun" message.
Then I loaded and cocked my Springfield full-frame 1911A1 semi-automatic pistol, and mounted it, barrel up, in a bench vice.
An aside for those who don't know anything about guns in general, or this pistol in particular, I need to describe a bit about how this pistol works. It's germane to this miracle, so please bear with me.
The Springfield 1911A1 is based on the US Army's sidearm pistol, the Colt M1911A1 - the .45 caliber pistol used by US forces in World Wars I and II, Korea and Vietnam. It is still the weapon of choice for many special forces soldiers, as well as serious target shooters and those who are serious about self-defense.
More than 100 years after it first entered service, this timeless handgun remains popular for two reasons.
So, back to my miracle. I had the gun mounted in the bench vice, pointed upward, so I wouldn't have to hold it. Then, resolved to do what was needed (in my muddled and desperate mind), I pressed my forehead against the barrel's gaping mouth - right between my eyes, and just a skosh "north" of my eyebrows. I squeezed the grip safety tight, and then I pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
That's not possible. This 1911A1 is a purely mechanical piece of machinery, no electronics, nothing that could possibly cause it to not fire. But despite that indisputable fact, the gun didn't fire.
I stood there for a space of several seconds (it seemed like hours, but it could only have been a couple of seconds), increasingly puzzled by what hadn't happened.
Then, thinking that I was going to have to do a bit of "gun-smithing" to figure out what went wrong, I released the grip safety and began to pull my head away from the gun barrel's opening - and the instant that my forehead was out of the line of fire, the gun went off.
That's not possible, either.
Mechanically, the gun HAD to go off when I squeezed the trigger. It really had no other option. And again, mechanically, the gun could NOT go off several seconds after I'd squeezed the trigger, and after I'd released the grip safety.
John Browning's masterful pistol design just did not work that way.
The blast was deafening - I couldn't hear out of my right ear for weeks - and the hole in the garage ceiling was unmistakable. However, that was a side-show.
The instant I heard the gun go off, I was flooded by what I know in my heart was a very clear and unmistakable message from God Himself, a message that suicide was not for me.
Since that time, nearly two decades ago, I've had many even more difficult times in my life than I'd faced on that day. I've lost a son to a single-car accident, and my late wife to her own suicide in the aftermath of our son's tragic death. Those were the worst, but I've faced many other challenges in life.
Yet I have never again been tempted by suicide.
God spared my life in a miracle, an action which defied known laws of physics, but which nonetheless happened.
In my own words, a miracle is some event that "cannot happen" under the laws of physics, but which happens anyway, in a fashion that defies rational explanation.
By either definition, miracles do happen.
In fact, I believe I'm living proof (literally, living proof) that this is true.
Here is the story of my miracle.
It was probably about 20 years ago. I was out of work, deeply depressed, facing economic collapse and struggling with the aftermath of a broken marriage and the rocks and shoals of a second marriage. I felt a failure - I didn't seem to be able to provide for my family, or to accomplish in myself anything that I'd set out to do. There seemed no way out.
I decided to end my life - in retrospect, for me it would have been the coward's way out, but at the time, it seemed my only real option in a world spinning out of control. However, I had life insurance and I didn't want to leave my family destitute, so I decided to stage my suicide so it looked accidental. A gun-cleaning accident.There seemed to be no way out. I decided to end my life
First, I left a note on the kitchen table for my wife to find - not a suicide note but an "I'm out in the garage cleaning my gun" message.
Then I loaded and cocked my Springfield full-frame 1911A1 semi-automatic pistol, and mounted it, barrel up, in a bench vice.
An aside for those who don't know anything about guns in general, or this pistol in particular, I need to describe a bit about how this pistol works. It's germane to this miracle, so please bear with me.
The Springfield 1911A1 is based on the US Army's sidearm pistol, the Colt M1911A1 - the .45 caliber pistol used by US forces in World Wars I and II, Korea and Vietnam. It is still the weapon of choice for many special forces soldiers, as well as serious target shooters and those who are serious about self-defense.
More than 100 years after it first entered service, this timeless handgun remains popular for two reasons.
- First, the pistol remarkably powerful - if you hit something, it will go down and stay down.
- Second, the pistol is remarkably mechanically reliable - it does what it's supposed to do (i.e., to fire) every time, without fail.
So, back to my miracle. I had the gun mounted in the bench vice, pointed upward, so I wouldn't have to hold it. Then, resolved to do what was needed (in my muddled and desperate mind), I pressed my forehead against the barrel's gaping mouth - right between my eyes, and just a skosh "north" of my eyebrows. I squeezed the grip safety tight, and then I pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
That's not possible. This 1911A1 is a purely mechanical piece of machinery, no electronics, nothing that could possibly cause it to not fire. But despite that indisputable fact, the gun didn't fire.
I stood there for a space of several seconds (it seemed like hours, but it could only have been a couple of seconds), increasingly puzzled by what hadn't happened.
Then, thinking that I was going to have to do a bit of "gun-smithing" to figure out what went wrong, I released the grip safety and began to pull my head away from the gun barrel's opening - and the instant that my forehead was out of the line of fire, the gun went off.
That's not possible, either.
Mechanically, the gun HAD to go off when I squeezed the trigger. It really had no other option. And again, mechanically, the gun could NOT go off several seconds after I'd squeezed the trigger, and after I'd released the grip safety.
John Browning's masterful pistol design just did not work that way.
The blast was deafening - I couldn't hear out of my right ear for weeks - and the hole in the garage ceiling was unmistakable. However, that was a side-show.
The instant I heard the gun go off, I was flooded by what I know in my heart was a very clear and unmistakable message from God Himself, a message that suicide was not for me.
Period.An unmistakable message from God Himself, a message that suicide was not for me. Period.
Since that time, nearly two decades ago, I've had many even more difficult times in my life than I'd faced on that day. I've lost a son to a single-car accident, and my late wife to her own suicide in the aftermath of our son's tragic death. Those were the worst, but I've faced many other challenges in life.
Yet I have never again been tempted by suicide.
God spared my life in a miracle, an action which defied known laws of physics, but which nonetheless happened.
Sometimes the Answer is "No"
It is a tenet of my faith that God answers prayers. This is something I believe with all of my heart, a belief bolstered by the many times that God has answered my own prayers, in ways that were - to me - put the reality of those answers beyond question.
However - and this is hard for many Christians to accept, as I've seen for myself - sometimes the answer to that prayer is "no." When you're asking for something that is outside of God's will and plan for your life, God doesn't ignore that prayer, but He might just answer by saying "no."
In other blogs I've written here, I have talked about how God said "no" to Jonah (I'm not confused here - this is not about how Jonah said "no" to God). After Jonah realized that he really did need to follow God's command, he went to Nineveh where he preached doom. To his surprise and disappointment, the people and the king of Nineveh did hear Jonah, and believed in what he was preaching, and repented. Real sack-cloth and ashes time, honest and meaningful repentance. God heard their groans of anguish, saw the true repentance in their hearts, and spared Nineveh the doom Jonah had foretold.
Jonah, whose people (the Israelites) considered Nineveh their sworn enemy, had looked forward to God's judgment. When it didn't come, he prayed to God to follow up on that promise, to smite the Ninevites. God heard Jonah's prayer, but the answer he gave Jonah was a resounding "no." Even though Jonah had (admittedly, reluctantly) done as God had commanded, and even though Jonah was indeed a prophet of God, God heard his prayer, but told him "no."
Which brings me to a very personal side of this issue, personal for me. In 2007, eight years after our son had died in a one-car accident in September, 1999, my wife Karol was going through unimaginably deep suffering because of that loss. Many years earlier, she'd lost a son who was born with profound, unsurvivable birth defects. Following his inevitable death, she had never been able to properly grieve, and that loss festered in her soul. Then nearly 20 years later, our son died in that awful crash. Once again, she had been unable to properly grieve, and that loss, too, festered. Even worse, the two boys' birthdays - and the anniversaries of their deaths - came very close together in calendar terms.
Each year from July through September, Karol went through an anguish that had to be seen to be believed. This year, for reasons not clear, the suffering seemed to be worse. Despairing of what I could do for her, I turned to God, and prayer. Using the Psalms as my focal point - especially the ones in which David cried out to a God he felt had forsaken him - I prayed as I had never done before. My prayers were daily events, often lasting hours, and filled with all the power of the emotions I was feeling. And I asked others to pray for her as well - online prayer groups, our local church, friends - and those efforts were not in vain. People did pray for Karol.
Still, her crisis seemed to deepen. I knew God was listening - He had always listened to my prayers, and had often answered them in ways nothing short of miraculous - yet things only got worse for her.
Finally, I thought there was a change. She seemed more at peace, and things seemed to be returning to normal. We made plans to do things we enjoyed - something we hadn't done in weeks, perhaps months. She even asked me to go to the store (at her request, and by my own choice, I had literally not left the house for a week - both of us were unwilling for me to leave her alone), so - feeling things had turned a corner, I went to the store to restock on groceries.
Yet something didn't feel right - I felt deeply that something was wrong, but I didn't know what. I tried to call her, but she didn't answer, and for some reason, my blood ran cold. I raced home, only to find the bedroom door locked. It took me five minutes to disassemble the lock, and when I came in, I found Karol dead on the floor.
I called the police, who treated me like a murderer (no surprise there, and not really part of this story). More importantly, I called our priest. She interrupted her vacation to rush to our home - to say last rites over Karol - and later she told me that she'd felt no evil there, that Karol was now finally at peace, a peace she had been unable to find in this life.
That was hard for me to accept, and I "took' a vacation from God" as I came to terms with it. I didn't stop believing in God, and I wasn't angry at God or filled with blame for Him. Still, I needed to step back and come to terms with this, and God was gracious in letting me know that this was just fine with Him.
In mulling over what happened, I came to believe that His ultimate answer to my prayer was "yes, but on My terms" - Karol found peace she was so desperate to find - not in this life, though, but in the next life.
However - and this is hard for many Christians to accept, as I've seen for myself - sometimes the answer to that prayer is "no." When you're asking for something that is outside of God's will and plan for your life, God doesn't ignore that prayer, but He might just answer by saying "no."
God doesn't ignore that prayer, but He might just answer by saying "no"
In other blogs I've written here, I have talked about how God said "no" to Jonah (I'm not confused here - this is not about how Jonah said "no" to God). After Jonah realized that he really did need to follow God's command, he went to Nineveh where he preached doom. To his surprise and disappointment, the people and the king of Nineveh did hear Jonah, and believed in what he was preaching, and repented. Real sack-cloth and ashes time, honest and meaningful repentance. God heard their groans of anguish, saw the true repentance in their hearts, and spared Nineveh the doom Jonah had foretold.
Jonah, whose people (the Israelites) considered Nineveh their sworn enemy, had looked forward to God's judgment. When it didn't come, he prayed to God to follow up on that promise, to smite the Ninevites. God heard Jonah's prayer, but the answer he gave Jonah was a resounding "no." Even though Jonah had (admittedly, reluctantly) done as God had commanded, and even though Jonah was indeed a prophet of God, God heard his prayer, but told him "no."
God heard Jonah's prayer, but God told him "no"
Which brings me to a very personal side of this issue, personal for me. In 2007, eight years after our son had died in a one-car accident in September, 1999, my wife Karol was going through unimaginably deep suffering because of that loss. Many years earlier, she'd lost a son who was born with profound, unsurvivable birth defects. Following his inevitable death, she had never been able to properly grieve, and that loss festered in her soul. Then nearly 20 years later, our son died in that awful crash. Once again, she had been unable to properly grieve, and that loss, too, festered. Even worse, the two boys' birthdays - and the anniversaries of their deaths - came very close together in calendar terms.
Each year from July through September, Karol went through an anguish that had to be seen to be believed. This year, for reasons not clear, the suffering seemed to be worse. Despairing of what I could do for her, I turned to God, and prayer. Using the Psalms as my focal point - especially the ones in which David cried out to a God he felt had forsaken him - I prayed as I had never done before. My prayers were daily events, often lasting hours, and filled with all the power of the emotions I was feeling. And I asked others to pray for her as well - online prayer groups, our local church, friends - and those efforts were not in vain. People did pray for Karol.
People did pray for Karol
Still, her crisis seemed to deepen. I knew God was listening - He had always listened to my prayers, and had often answered them in ways nothing short of miraculous - yet things only got worse for her.
Finally, I thought there was a change. She seemed more at peace, and things seemed to be returning to normal. We made plans to do things we enjoyed - something we hadn't done in weeks, perhaps months. She even asked me to go to the store (at her request, and by my own choice, I had literally not left the house for a week - both of us were unwilling for me to leave her alone), so - feeling things had turned a corner, I went to the store to restock on groceries.
Yet something didn't feel right
Yet something didn't feel right - I felt deeply that something was wrong, but I didn't know what. I tried to call her, but she didn't answer, and for some reason, my blood ran cold. I raced home, only to find the bedroom door locked. It took me five minutes to disassemble the lock, and when I came in, I found Karol dead on the floor.
I called the police, who treated me like a murderer (no surprise there, and not really part of this story). More importantly, I called our priest. She interrupted her vacation to rush to our home - to say last rites over Karol - and later she told me that she'd felt no evil there, that Karol was now finally at peace, a peace she had been unable to find in this life.
I had prayed to God to help Karol find peace - in this life - but His answer was "no."Karol was now finally at peace, a peace she had been unable to find in this life
That was hard for me to accept, and I "took' a vacation from God" as I came to terms with it. I didn't stop believing in God, and I wasn't angry at God or filled with blame for Him. Still, I needed to step back and come to terms with this, and God was gracious in letting me know that this was just fine with Him.
In mulling over what happened, I came to believe that His ultimate answer to my prayer was "yes, but on My terms" - Karol found peace she was so desperate to find - not in this life, though, but in the next life.
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