Using hurt

There is one thing that I know, that I cling deeply too, in the depths of hurt there are ways to learn how to help others.  If  I can stare at tragedy with eyes that are searching for how God can use the agony, there is comfort to be found. It is almost a way to twist the never ending pain into a focus on something beneficial.

God has taught us much through the last few months. He has shown me what it is like to hurt so much that you can't explain it in words to people.  Yet, He has sent comfort in those desparate times.  I guess what I have learned is ways to reach out to others.  How often do we hear of unspeakable sadness in the lives of people we love, see at church, or know casually?  How often do we feel like we don't know how to help, although we may wish we could.

The other day, I was struck with the simplest of questions. A question that, frankly, I wish we had been asked more often.  I thought, if someone had asked this of my husband or myself, how easily we could have pleaded for help in ways that we so desparately needed it.

"How can I help you?"  Not, a simple, "Let me know if you need anything."  I think this phrase, although, ringing with the truest of intentions, requires the aching soul to be the one to reach out.  That is the last thing a hurting person may be capable of doing.  In contrast, if we merely utter the question, "How can I help you?", we allow them the opportunity to put into words a need. 

Kevin didn't leave me alone unless he had to for the longest time. Why? Becuase when he did, without fail, he would return to me, crying so hard, completely crushed in memories and thoughts of my dear brother.  We had company one weekend, and he went outside and worked for hours.  Unwittingly, he later shared that he had felt that I was "ok", because I was with my friend. He had the freedom to leave me with her, knowing she would be ministering to me in his absence. I had no idea this was how it had been for him. 

If someone would have asked us, "How can I help?"  He may have been able to say, "Please, come keep Tara company.  She needs to visit and share her heart, and I need to carry on our life, until she can again."