The Sound of Silence
Recently, I shared a picture on FB with these words: When someone you love is going through a storm, your silent presence is more powerful than a million empty words.
And surprisingly, the message caused a little controversy.
When I first read the words, all I thought about was how perfectly they captured my heart and touched me where I was—barely standing in the middle of a turbulent tornado.
The year before, my son had relapsed with leukemia, moved home from college, and begun a frightening and aggressive twenty-four month treatment plan. His return changed our family dynamics, our priorities, our focus. We were not the same family. We were not the same people.
I dropped out of life to become clinic companion, hospital buddy, ER advocate, driver, nurse, therapist, and on good days movie and lunch partner.
And then I broke my ankle. Right before a round of really nasty inpatient chemo. And in an instant, I couldn’t be any of those things.
My first thought after I stepped off the curb and heard the crack wasn’t—Oh, my gosh, I think I just broke my ankle. It was—Oh, my gosh, who’s going to take care of Kyle?
The panic of him being without a caregiver overwhelmed me more than the pain stabbing through my foot and leg.
In the midst of an ER trip, multiple x-rays, finding an orthopedic doctor, learning I had a major L-shaped break of my ankle and leg, barely being able to get from my bed to the bathroom on a pair of crappy crutches, and realizing Kyle was too weak to make it down the stairs and I was too handicapped to make it up the stairs, not much comforted me.
But here’s what got me through.
That entire first week after my injury, at night when everyone was asleep, my husband climbed into bed next to me, wrapped his arms around me, and let me cry. For hours. The harder I sobbed, the tighter he hugged. For seven very long nights.
He didn’t murmur words of encouragement. He didn’t promise things would be all right. He didn’t quote scripture. He didn’t tell me to suck it up.
He held me and loved me with his silence. And I will always, always love him for that.
The controversy over the picture above had to do with speaking words of truth versus being silent.
God’s word tells us to be here for each other. To, “…encourage one another and build each other up…” (I Thessalonians 5:11 NIV).
But I don’t think it always has to be with words. Sometimes being there is quiet. And that quiet lets us feel safe as we grieve and process our new reality.
In difficult times, I will eventually need the words, but not when my heart isn’t ready to hear them. The right words spoken too soon bounce off my heart or sometimes even make me angry.
But that might just be me.
What I’ve learned during my rough seasons in life is that everyone deals with suffering differently. Some people need to be alone. Others need to be surrounded. Some people need to talk. Others need to cry. Some people need to hear words. Others need a tight hug and silence.
And that’s okay, as long as we all make it to the other side better and not bitter. As long as we leg God work on our hearts and not work against Him to keep them hardened.
What kind of person are you? When life gets hard, what helps you get through? When you suffer, do you want the people closest to you soothe you with words or support you in silence?
Looking for more posts like this? Try Life is Messy or Be Inspired.
Are you going through a personal wilderness journey? Try Surviving the Storm.
5 Comments
Cherrye Vasquez
Hi Lori,
I read your message, and I can understand it clearly.
Collectively, I think we need to consider where people are in life before we make harsh judgments. I wonder if the readers thought to consider the “why” behind your picture message.
Who knows, perhaps you may not have chosen this particular message if not prompted by variables currently going on in your life which instigated it.
Thanks for this post which further explains (for those who need it), but your message is clear.Your thoughts are yours, and I admire your love, care and how brave you are.
It is my prayer you, Kyle and your husband feel God’s presence as he wraps you tenderly within his bosom today – forevermore.
Cherrye
Ginger
I don’t see anything at all wrong with your picture behind the saying that is on it or your statements! I totally agree! I have lost 2 husbands to death and numerous others in my life and most times it is God who needs to heal us not others. I do need the comfort of someone to just be there for me but they don’t need to say a word. Most of the times we find people are floundering to just find the right words anyways. No one knows like God knows!
Marcus Smith
I scanned your feed to see what was said but it looks like you removed it? Regardless people need to love others the way that they need to be loved. NOT the way that we want to love them. People full of judgments always seem to have something important to say that others simply must hear.
But if we really love people than we need to love them in a way that they are ready and capable of receiving. Sometimes people with words of truth need to shut their mouths and just be there for another person. Any word is empty if the recipient cannot take in the meaning. Any word can become in the words of YHWH (Mal 2:3) or Paul – skubala, the Greek transliteration for dung (and worse). Any word loses value, because words by themselves are not holy or profound (even the English ‘God’ likely comes from the German root word for fairies); our most sacred words are merely translations or borrows from older languages. It is the heart of the giver of compassion that must come through and that doesn’t always mean words.
This truth should be so basic, so simple, so not-profound that it doesn’t surprise me that Christians can get it wrong. Because we will split churches over carpet and in a more recent example I am aware of–chain-wallets. Yet I am grateful that God loves us anyway. Warts and all. And sometimes he loves us with his quiet presence. As when Elijah was commanded to hear the voice of God in the still quiet of the wind.
If I were there right now I’d give you a slice of pie and a cup of tea. Because quite simply while I can speak Spanish, English, or French (a little I’m rusty); and can translate Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Aramaic, and even ancient Akkadian (have you ever seen a language of sticks and circles mean so much); and have translated each book of the bible from the original language a mountain of words doesn’t add up to a teacup of compassion. Compassion delivered in a manner someone can receive.
In my case, when words are not needed or wanted, a slice of one of my home made pies to try and give someone a few minutes of peace. It’s a ministry I started without realizing it for hurting people. And it works. I have seen widows, victims, and the needy move from tears to smiles over a few silent bites. Just don’t count the calories and don’t let those who speak against you change the truth of your message 🙂
DiAne Gates
I’m a cry-baby too. But Richard’s not the silent hugs type. So I’m sending him to Pat for counseling. But depending on the chaos I sometimes like feedback and sometimes not. When Michelle died nothing comforted me like sitting on the back porch, alone, and crying out to God. I didn’t answer the phone, rarely returned calls, and when folks came to see me I tolerated them, but mostly just wanted to be alone. Fifteen years later, last week on her birthday, I wanted one of those alone days and made myself unavailable.
All grief is unique. Even same person, different grief or suffering. The thing that keeps me going is God tells us things we don’t understand, secret things, belong to Him. And His question to me is always…”do you trust Me?” I’d love to tell you I shout “Yes, Lord. I trust you.” But I’d be lying. My voice is usually baby talk, “uh huh…sob,sob,sob…I trust You,” whispered in a voice only He can hear.
Gloria Richard
Hugs to you, Lori.
Me? When I’m troubled or grieving I need a healthy balance of alone time and “people” time. As for advice? I often simply need to vent, to have someone listen without condemning or condoning, and to know they’re there for me.
I can’t feel your pain. You’re blessed to have your faith and Pat. Again…hugs and prayers.