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| John 13:35 |
There is this person I love who'd become the single most important voice of spiritual matters in my life. He would always say, "Life is messy! And I'm not afraid of your mess." It was exactly how I felt about life and others having the freedom to be genuine around me, so those comforting words resonated deeply within me.
The thing that really made me stroke my beard in contemplation, though, was how over time, I began to see in this person's behavior that he actually was a little put off by the mess of humanity and life sometimes. He would tolerate it, but there was a real need to stop it fast, to make uncomfortable jokes, to figure out the cause--or make one up to feel safe and tidy--and sweep it up, even if just under the rug. I think a lot of us can be that way. Messes are typically unsightly and difficult to always keep under control. They can sometimes be embarrassing. Some people understand this and with grace do not shrink away from them. Some people just say they do. I trust this person's heart and know that his approach was not intentional, but it was my experience when it mattered. He is still one of the most remarkable people I know, and I am grateful for his role in my life, which is part of what created so much confusion for me. Nobody is perfect.
It's no secret that my son has Type 1 diabetes. It's the insulin-dependent one. Most people are like I was before I knew a thing about it: They just know that there is the OK diabetes and the "bad, scary one." Levi has the latter, but we're not scared. I get scared sometimes, but I don't live there. But the day he got diagnosed was one of the scariest days of my life. And the weeks and months following were some of the scariest, most stressful weeks and months. The learning curve and exceptional degree of constant monitoring were taxing physically, mentally, and emotionally.
Here's what people need in the tough messes life throws out, whether they created the mess for themselves or not (Ready? Here goes.):
Grace.
Support.
Listening ear.
Reassurance.
Help with routine tasks like meals, errands, and child care.
Listen, most people already know the risks and bad statistics of their particular issue, the poor choices they made (if that's applicable), and the litany of approaches to take to make it better or easier. They usually don't need facts. Here's the deal about organic life as a real person: When a wrench is thrown in, it's not the robotic list of logical stats and equations that "fixes everything." People are much too gloriously complicated and rich for that. And some people are in a mess that can't actually be fixed (God help us all!!), so they're learning to adapt, and here's a concept to blow your mind--fixing might not be the immediate need. They might never get to fixing if they can't first address the overwhelming pain/grief/remorse/stress/worry/sadness/whatever. So even though we're all fixers, fixing is not always the bottom line. The bottom line is helping others make it through the next day, even the next hour, without completely losing their sh*t and falling apart. The bottom line is love, trite as it sounds.
Those days at the ER with my son were sleepless, powerless, frightening days that showed me a strength I never knew I had, and a strength in my son that convinced me we were going to kick butt at this. I relied on God in the truest, purest sense, because there was nothing in my vast and well stocked reserve of strength and determination that was anywhere near up to this task.
The responses from those who loved us were the next phase of shock for me. Most people were amazing in their sympathy that didn't coddle and their words of encouragement. But two responses stood out to me as significant. They represented that tremendous arc of possibilities on life's massive swinging pendulum.
The first one was from the man of spiritual authority who said he didn't mind messes. He asked few questions, almost never checked in on how we were doing, and--maybe sit down for this--told us what we had done wrong to allow this curse to come upon our son. See, we believe in a spiritual realm where our actions or inactions can open and close doors to spiritual things, bad or good, in our lives. I have no qualms with that. And there was a period of ignorance, not malicious sin, in which we overlooked something important and later quickly remedied it. So be careful out there that you are sure you know everything and are perfect and never have confusion or trouble, because you might be visited with a terrible curse for not always having it together!! And it won't even be you that gets hit directly; oh no, it'll be your kid. And you can just watch it in that grief and horror (that you constantly shove down) for the rest of your life. How's that for comfort? How's that for "helping someone through their mess?" How's that for complete and utter bollocks from any person claiming to represent Christ? ..... Thought so.
The second response was from a dear friend, maternal to the core, not pretending to have it all together and living her life in whatever way she could to show love and encourage others with acceptance right there in the trenches where it mattered. When I didn't even know I needed it, she was there, asking to help with our other child, asking if she could fix meals, and here's what really blew my mind. We were inundated with medical information, terminology, supplies, and routines that basically took all of our time for the first month or so. We were calculating carbs and insulin doses and giving shots multiple times a day and getting up throughout the night to prick fingers and check blood glucose levels. Not only did this friend help out with our basic needs and creature comforts and general emotional stability, she said, "Teach me everything." She jumped in and learned how to check blood, how to read the meter, how to count carbs and read labels and measure exact portion sizes and detect a low blood sugar and how to treat it and how to measure insulin and pinch the arm fat just so to give a shot. She became several things. She became a fellow nurse to help with the care so that we were not isolated. She became, therefore, a safe place for my son, a babysitter we could trust with his medical condition when we desperately needed a break from the caregiving and sleepless nights and wave after wave of concern. She became another man in the trenches to fight alongside us. She hugged. She prayed. She spoke words of strength when she, too, was confused and scared for this boy she loved. She didn't give a flying flip about our mess. It didn't scare her away.
I have never in my life seen anything like it. And few knew how much time and energy and devotion she was spending on helping us get through the next day, get through this mess that didn't ask us permission. Few to this day know, so there are no public accolades for her. Because she's not running around spouting platitudes about how she doesn't mind messes. She's way too busy jumping into them to grab people's hands and trudge through with them. She's patting crying heads on her shoulder, shedding her own genuine tears.
If there is anyone on this planet that I respect and want to emulate, it is that woman.
I think we try to have it all together because it's orderly and peaceful and puts us in a position to help others when they need it. This is good and right. But it can become all too easy to feel we have to always project that image (Facebook life is not real life, right?) until everything starts to feel very plastic and rote and drained of life's vigor. When that happens in life, something's gone terribly wrong. Life is for the living after all. When that happens in our relationship with God, it is a dark place; it's what happens with religious activity rather than relationship (Pharisees 101). But life is organic, and yes, it is messy. And that is OK! We don't have to run from it or keep messes hidden, because no matter who you are, if you're alive, they'll hit you. And for mercy's sake, when they hit someone near to you, you don't have to fix them. Or be scared of them. We're all in this thing together.
So here's the kicker. Despite the pain of feeling betrayed by someone who didn't respond well, I recognize that this person was not trying to be inappropriate or cause pain. That was a messy moment for him in his own life. If I'm all about showing grace, it is my privilege to acknowledge that even those who don't always respond well, who don't know everything, can misrepresent themselves and even their God. We're all still going to be OK. Grace, grace, grace. It has to start somewhere.
This much I know: When everything is so stringently raveled up tight, there's a certain freedom that comes when it starts to unravel a bit. New perspective brightens our outlook. We start to loosen up, to remember. We reevaluate priorities and dreams. Maybe we get outside more, read aloud with our kids more, turn up the music and dance more, stop caring so much about who else has a fuller schedule or what we might be doing wrong if we haven't reached this or that career milestone. Because who cares? This whole situation in my life, and similar situations that followed for a few years, have actually shaken my faith to its very core. I mean really shaken, guys. And even that is OK. Because there's another spiritual voice in my life that truly isn't intimidated by my messes: God. So yeah, life's messy. We can deal.
And show massive amounts of love.
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