Is this you sometimes?
You hold it all together until the last person is out of the house and then you break down crying. Life is too hard. You think, “How can everyone else be doing so well but I am failing? What is wrong with me?”
If you look closer, you’ll see some of them wiping away tears. You’ll see the exhausted look of fresh grief on many faces. For others, eyes shine with appreciation of being among family—not related by blood but related by blood lost.
Too often, church services or conversations with Christians do not give enough time for expressions of pain, loss, and grief. We want to rush to the happy stuff. We want to convince ourselves and others that life is all good. But life can be really hard.
I watched, waiting to see if intervention would be needed. Then I turned in time to see tears streaming down my youngest daughter’s face. She had stopped eating, as we all did, as she worried about that little girl.
He is angry towards his father. Expressing his anger, the boy imagines and then acts out violent attacks: beheadings, explosions, shootings, and pushing people off a cliff. And in the end, he gets what he wants—and wins the girl too.
When people are facing a crisis or just having a hard day, it can be tempting (and often well-meaning) to say something along the lines of “try to look on the bright side.” But this can often hurt more than help.
Sometimes, “well-meaning” individuals want to go into a grieving person’s home and clean out things that they think will bring too much pain or, from their perspective, do chores that “should just be done.” Don’t do it.
My eight-year-old daughter knew that the tree was going to be cut down. Still, when the day came, it was tough on her. A few minutes before we needed to leave for school, she went to the tree for one last good-bye. Crying and grasping the brown needles, she did not want to leave the tree. I prayed and wondered what to do. Do I force her to leave so she can get to school?