There are times that sadness surrounds us. This seems to be cyclic, and thank goodness it ebbs and flows, for I don’t know that we could endure if it lasted infinitum.
Within the last few days, I’ve had a heavy heart for two friends. One just shared how they’d been savagely beaten as a child, the belt buckle used, carving deep horizontal grooves into their back that serve as permanent reminders of the helplessness and despair they once felt. To this day, when that individual is in a setting where voices are raised or physical violence might pose a threat, their mind flashes them back to the defenseless little boy they once were as those in charge brutalized him.
We celebrated this friend’s thirtieth birthday this past Saturday. When things got a little loud where we were at, his body began to tremble, an involuntary reaction to his past experiences. My heart broke for him, my mamma bear came out, and without hesitating, I wrapped my arms around him until his body relaxed.
Another friend, whose wife has mental issues, just informed me that his marriage is crumbling, his heart along with it. This, despite his wanting desperately to save the relationship. We talked at length about how people are only human. They can only do so much. And if only one in a relationship is willing to reach out, yet the other refuses to take the offered hand, then there’s very little that can be done to salvage the relationship.
Both these individuals apologized for “burdening” me with their troubles. Surprised, I looked at them each and, with determined sincerity, expressed how being their friend was no burden. That this is what friends do—they reach out to and help one another when the need arises. That to try to go it alone is not only silly, but makes one lose perspective and causes a sense of hopelessness to set in.
Do these events weigh heavy on my mind? Yes. Do they cause my heart to bleed for my friends? Absolutely? Do I have the slightest inclination to turn away? Never, for these same friends have been there through thick and thin for me just as I’m willing to do for them now. As I expressed to them, this is what friends that care do for one another—they make themselves available, whenever and however needed to help pull their troubled friends through rough times.
I know the “storms” my friends are enduring will prove cyclic, eventually coming to some form of closure. In the meantime, though I bear their sadness, I won’t turn away from them. That’s not in my nature. Instead, I’ll pull them close, assuring them that I’ll be right beside them until things turn around for the better.
Within the last few days, I’ve had a heavy heart for two friends. One just shared how they’d been savagely beaten as a child, the belt buckle used, carving deep horizontal grooves into their back that serve as permanent reminders of the helplessness and despair they once felt. To this day, when that individual is in a setting where voices are raised or physical violence might pose a threat, their mind flashes them back to the defenseless little boy they once were as those in charge brutalized him.
We celebrated this friend’s thirtieth birthday this past Saturday. When things got a little loud where we were at, his body began to tremble, an involuntary reaction to his past experiences. My heart broke for him, my mamma bear came out, and without hesitating, I wrapped my arms around him until his body relaxed.
Another friend, whose wife has mental issues, just informed me that his marriage is crumbling, his heart along with it. This, despite his wanting desperately to save the relationship. We talked at length about how people are only human. They can only do so much. And if only one in a relationship is willing to reach out, yet the other refuses to take the offered hand, then there’s very little that can be done to salvage the relationship.
Both these individuals apologized for “burdening” me with their troubles. Surprised, I looked at them each and, with determined sincerity, expressed how being their friend was no burden. That this is what friends do—they reach out to and help one another when the need arises. That to try to go it alone is not only silly, but makes one lose perspective and causes a sense of hopelessness to set in.
Do these events weigh heavy on my mind? Yes. Do they cause my heart to bleed for my friends? Absolutely? Do I have the slightest inclination to turn away? Never, for these same friends have been there through thick and thin for me just as I’m willing to do for them now. As I expressed to them, this is what friends that care do for one another—they make themselves available, whenever and however needed to help pull their troubled friends through rough times.
I know the “storms” my friends are enduring will prove cyclic, eventually coming to some form of closure. In the meantime, though I bear their sadness, I won’t turn away from them. That’s not in my nature. Instead, I’ll pull them close, assuring them that I’ll be right beside them until things turn around for the better.
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