Cambridge

I went to visit my dearest friend Cambridge in Jan. Her husband passed away a few months previous to that and it was an overdue trip. I felt terrible that I couldn't be there for the funeral, but I'm really happy that I got to join her in Jan. She and I have been friends since we were teenagers and lived with one another more than once. I love her and her sweet daughter Morgan. It's interesting because I felt like I really could sympathize and understand how her life was... how she was coping.... how life continued... what kind of support network she had... and basically everything she was dealing with. I got there and I realized that I was very wrong. While I certainly could sympathize with my dear friend. I had little grasped the situation and the continuation of life as usual. My perception was a little off. I didn't consider the little things that dealing with such a magnanimous loss entails. I scarcely considered the cemetery, the headstone, the arrangements, the emptiness. I didn't think about what you do with the things your loved ones leave behind, the memories, the confusion, the heart ache (particularly of their 8-year-old child). Both she and her daughter are doing SO WELL. Truly, I am amazed at their ability and strength. I just didn't realize how much strength it takes to deal with a situation like that. But more than anything else, I found that I (and many others) have failed in the past to mourn with those who mourn. It's so easy for us to rejoice or celebrate new additions to families, new jobs, cars, etc. But for some reason, we fail to wrap our arms around our loved ones and shed tears with them, for them. We get so wrapped up in our own lives, problems, and pain, that we scarcely take the time to truly weep when someone we love needs our tears. I hope that I can be better in the future. I hope that when those around me face personal tragedy I don't try to sweep it under the rug with my cheerfulness or laugh the pain away. I hope that I can mourn with those who mourn, however they mourn, and serve those in need, whatever they need. I hope no-one has ever felt me brush aside their pain to make room for my optimism. In short, I hope that I can be Christlike and as He wept for Lazarus (even though He knew He was about to raise him from the dead) I too can weep for others' hurts big, small, or gigantic.