I CAN ONLY HOPE

Today I woke up physically feeling the reality that
life is messy,
and loving people hurts,
and losing people sucks,
and it’s hard to know how to support a friend
who’s losing hope.

Even though, you’d think I would
know how
to support a friend who’s losing hope.

Because I’ve been that friend
before.

But suddenly I can’t remember
what
that
friend
might
need.

I can only think of what that friend
doesn’t need.

Like fixing.
Or minimizing.
Or panic.
Or despair.
Or denial.
Or easy answers.

Or any answers.

Or well-meaning attempts to take away
the very big and real things that friend is feeling.
And fearing.

Wait.

I’m starting to
remember.

Maybe that friend,
the one who is losing hope,
just needs to be
heard,
and held,
and not alone.

Like we all do,
I guess.

But especially
that friend.

Because sometimes
things just really do suck,
and there’s nothing else
to be said.

__
Today I have even more gratefulness and compassion for the people who have walked me through really hard times. The ones who have provided empathy instead of sympathy. The ones who have let me reel, and rail, and never once tried to force sunshine into actual dark places.

The ones who have stayed in it with me, as uncomfortable as it has been, for as long as it has taken, and have truly stared the sucky-ness right in the face. By my side.

The ones who have been as angry as me—or angrier—at what life has dished out.

Being that friend is not easy.

I can only hope to be her.

Here’s to trying. On behalf of each other, friends.

xxxxoooo

__

Also, I took this picture a month or two ago at the church that will [most likely] soon become my daughter’s home church. In Chicago. So there’s that, too.

xo

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