I stood in the produce section of my local grocery store, my hands comparing the weights of cantaloupes. Heavy enough, I thought.
I sniffed its stem, searching for that sweet spot, while my palms rubbed over its rough netted surface. My breath froze when I glanced up across the piles of lemons and avocados to see her handling the tomatoes.
I stared at the cantaloupe. I hoped she hadn’t noticed that I noticed her.
I didn’t know what to say.
She lost her teenaged daughter in a horrific car crash several weeks earlier — five teens died on their way to school.
This mom was forced to give up the gift God had given her seventeen years before.
I felt heavy, as if my feet were rooted to the floor. I placed the cantaloupe in my cart and strained to take a back step towards the broccoli — so my back was to her.
She probably knows I am here.
I was uncomfortable. I fiddled with the Brussel sprouts. Now what do I do? I questioned. Coward, I thought.
When bad things happen, people fear they may say the wrong thing — even when they are trying to be helpful.
I remember the depths of my emotional pain many years earlier when I miscarried my twin girls. God held their tiny bodies in His arms before I did. Even though well-intentioned women whispered, “You’re young enough to have more,” I knew they cared because they arrived by my side, wanting to comfort me. Most often, their comments came with soft eyes, a nestling hug.
What I found worse, though, was when people avoided me, and said nothing at all.
One of my own brothers never called. Months later, he sent me a letter, asking for my forgiveness. One friend dodged me in Kmart. From the corner of my eye, I watched her dart down the automotive aisle. Another woman, pregnant, turned away from me in the church parking lot and began a conversation with someone else.
They could have simply listened for a minute, helped me heal.
Now the jagged edges of discomfort gouged my heart because I’ve been just like the women at Kmart and church, dodging people I didn’t know how to talk to. I’ve neglected to send the card, pick up the phone, pay a visit, or approach them in the store.
I took a deep breath.
Her baggy jeans and oversized flannel hung on her thin frame. Hollow eyes replaced the stubborn jaw I remembered.
I walked up to her, acting surprised to see her. I think she was on to me, but she didn’t draw attention to my cowardice.
I found the courage to say “Hello.” My arms jockeyed my cart so I could get closer to her. I tried to find words that wouldn’t get between us. The words I found were the only ones I knew how to say. “I don’t know what to say. I am sorry.”
We hugged. Eyes welled.
Silence.
Now what do I say? I wondered.
“Therefore encourage one another with these words. {1 Thessalonians 4:18}
In His most subtle of ways, the Lord guided me.
I used her daughter’s name — Tonia. “I’m sorry I never thanked Tonia for her incredible work with the school sports program. She taught my sons so much about life and basketball! They spoke highly of her.”
These simple words brought her face to life.
“Let me tell you a story about Tonia,” I offered. It was a funny story, one she didn’t know — one my sons had shared with me months earlier, when she coached their summer basketball camp.
Her eyes held mine, asking for more — more of her daughter. It was as if she were saying, “Please, keep her alive.”
I listened, and remained alongside her as she shared. I prayed it was healing for her. It was for me. We stood there talking for a long time, as shoppers walked by.
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Related: Gift a friend this lovely earrings and bracelet set and take time to express how much you value the friendship you share together. Perfect for special occasions or just because.
Leave a Comment
Kimmygirl says
Sharon, You gave that mom a precious gift that day. Thank you for reminding us of the simplicity that comfort can be. Just the loved on’s name…. and remembering. Blessings to you!
Sharon says
Kimmygirl, thank you! Even though it is simple, it is not always easy. I have learned to look to Him for the answer. blessings
Anna says
Sharon, I love your honesty and thank you for your encouragement to step in trusting God to give you the words, when there seem to be no words of solace to give. Thank you also for the work you do as an oncology nurse. My Mum died of cancer and the nurses who helped care for her along the way were such a blessing to her. It must be a really hard job to do.
Sharon says
Anna, For me, solace can come from being there, with the person, surrounded by their pain. That speaks volumes. I am sorry to hear about your Mum. I hope you have many joyful memories of your times together. Thank you for reading my story.
Jessica Holvik says
This is so real. I’ve had this internal struggle to say hi to someone so many times. Not even just for people who are in difficult situations, but for anyone. I don’t know why it takes such a Herculean effort to do the thing that I logically know is the best thing. It’s meaningful to hear from someone who has been on both sides. Your story reminds me that I should trust Jesus to give me the words rather than hiding in cowardice in case I say the wrong thing or have nothing to say at all. People are more important than avoiding awkwardness, which is often my fear. Perfect love casts out fear!
Sharon says
Jessica, sometimes saying nothing is enough. A hug can say more than words. In the trusting, the awkwardness vanishes. blessings to you
Leona Rogers says
thanks for your advice to all of us… I lost a 19 year old daughter, and people avoided me. Just recently I lost my brother to a drunk driver, I appreciate it when people ask, or simply say I’m sorry for your loss.
Sharon says
Leona, I am so sorry. Praying for your comfort right now.
Matilda says
There is a lovely laminated pocket card published by Dicksons entitled “Cradled By God”. It is written to encourage women who’ve miscarried.
Sharon says
Matilda, I will have to look for this. A thoughtful item to give to one who miscarries. Thank you.
kal778 says
I remember that time very well, glad you got your courage up, never an easy thing. Beautifully written.
Sharon says
Yes, it was a very tragic time.
Ann Kroeker says
Oh, how vulnerable to share a story of both cowardice and courage. I’ll carry this with me, Sharon, and when I find myself tempted to back away toward the safety of the broccoli section, I’ll remember. I’ll remember, and I’ll set the melon in the cart and roll forward, toward the person, toward the fear, toward the person. Thank you.
Sharon says
Yes, toward the person in need of love and compassion. Thank you Ann.
Kirsten Holmberg says
There’s nothing harder in grief than feeling alone and isolated. Acknowledging the person we’ve lost is vital to our own ability to carry on. Hard, but important. Listening, indeed.
Beth Williams says
Sharon,
Sometimes it is hard to know what to say! I have found that calling a person and saying hello or just sitting with them saying nothing is best. People love getting hugs–some kind of acknowledgement that you care. Thank you for listening to Jesus and caring enough to go talk with this woman!
Blessings 🙂
Kristi says
Thank you for this reminder. I’ve got several people near me right now who are going through tremendous tragedy and hardship– it is good to be reminded that just being there for them- in whatever way I can- is better than avoiding them. Thank you. I needed this.