Please help my welcome Emily as a guest to my blog. Today’s post is part of the series, Walking a friend through the fire. I pray that you will be blessed!
When my daughter lay in the hospital bed, and we learned about seizures and tumors, grief and worry surrounded me. I needed sleep and a cup of coffee and I needed to read her a book without crying. I needed help.
I needed help from other people, but I did not know how to ask for it, or even what I needed. This is how I would have asked had I known how to do so. Your child is sick. How can I help?
Take care of me
Someone tell me where I left my keys, and remind me to eat something. Someone decide for me what it is I might like to eat, and bring me to that place to get it.
Pick up the things I am dropping
Do you know what I am forgetting while I am here with my baby? Perhaps you can help with that. Show love to my healthy kids. Make dinner for my husband. Mow the lawn. Take over the Sunday School class I agreed to teach before everything fell apart.
Let me hide
When things were at the worst, and we began to prepare for my daughter’s brain surgery, it became utterly exhausting to me to talk on the phone. I simply did not have the strength to share the details over and over again, to “keep it together” so that the person on the other end of the phone did not have to worry too much about how I was handling everything. I was suffering, and it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other and keep doing what was in front of me. I blogged when I could, but had very little to say to people by phone. I appreciated that people seemed to understand that.
Remind me what else is out there
During the weeks in the hospital, I remember feeling like our world had become so small. Everything was Aggie’s condition, everything was hospital and worry and trial. Yet some who shared our grief were bold enough to share bits of their still normal lives with me too, and I was surprised at how I appreciated that. A funny story about what someone’s kid did that day, news from home or school that had nothing to do with us– those were blessed reminders that life was still going on outside the hospital, and I could hope to join that world again someday. I had wanted to talk about something else, even just for a minute, but I had no idea what else there could be other than my sick child.
Just be with me
It is not fun to be the person or family that reminds everyone of such an enormous sad thing. Some withdrew, and I understood, knowing that it was usually those who were carrying too much grief already to take mine on as well. Some loved us through it, even though it hurt them to do so– love in a hospital room means sharing worry and grief– those who were willing to have their hearts ache along with ours were pictures of grace and compassion to me.
Acknowledge my pain and remind me of Hope
Don’t deny my pain with clichés, but look it full in the face, and then tell me that Truth is still Truth. Tell me what I already know. Scripture or hymns, things I have heard a thousand times: I need to hear them again. Nothing fancy or profound, just the basic faith we share: Suffering is awful, but temporary, because Jesus loves us. Even when we hurt, we are safe in His love for us.
If you have a friend with a sick child, you can help! Give a meal, a hug, a prayer, or even just your quiet presence: even these little things communicate God’s care.
Emily blogs about life with six children, faith, and motherhood. Smile, think, cry, pray, gag, and laugh with her at www.weakandloved.com.
She is also the author of Weak and Loved: A Mother-Daughter Love Story. Read the incredible story of suffering and hope, and experience God’s grace in times of trial.
Read more from this series here:
Kim Sorgius
Kim is just a girl, crazy in love with Jesus. She's a single mother of 4, a passionate homeschooler and life-long student. After teaching 8 years in public school, she traded her M.A. in Early Childhood for sippy cups and homeschool co-ops. Kim is the owner and editor of The Homeschool Village and Not Consumed where she encourages others to rest victoriously in the hands of God, rather than allowing life's difficult circumstances to consume.
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I really appreciate this post. My son was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis after his first birthday, with cerebral palsy after his 2nd birthday and with diabetes in June this year. He is ten years old, wonderful, kind and brilliant. I don’t think I have ever read a truer description of a chronically ill family. “It’s not fun being the family that reminds everyone of such an enormous sad thing.” I know “friends” who cringe when they see me and politely try to converse while plotting a their getaway. I really don’t know what to say to them anyway when they have a deer in the headlights look on their faces. Others, although very few, have let their hearts ache with us, like you said. They actually ask questions about our son and his diseases so we can talk about him like other parents talk about their kids. I can talk for hours about him, but my vernacular sounds foreign to others. It drips with pfts, culture results, meds, breathing treatments, A1C, orthotics, insulin, surgeries, chest physical therapy, other physical therapy, and the list goes on. If I could add one thing to your post, it would be that if you are talking to a parent of a chronically ill child and they start talking about things you don’t understand, please ask. It is the natural part of a conversation. We love talking about our kids and we will explain it all.
Oh Yes, I know the deer in the headlights look! You are so right, the words we use can leave people confused and so are afraid to ask! YES we love talking about our kids! It is not awkward for us that the other person doesn’t know! Please, ask!
I found myself feeling this way in public as well, and I noticed that usually kids will ask- not necessarily politely, but at least they ask! “What’s wrong with her?” “She’s having a seizure,” I’d say calmly, and I’d rather that conversation happen then have nothing but quiet and scared stares!
This was an incredible post. Years ago my very best friend gave birth to a son exactly 4 weeks after my own. When he was maybe 3 or 4 months old he was diagnosed with cancer. I wish I had a resource like this back then. I tried to be as helpful, encouraging, and a good listener as I could be, but I was also had “deer in headlight” moments :0(. When he passed away at 4 1/2 I felt so inept at giving any kind of comfort. Now, 13+ years later, we still talk about those days and all it entailed. The gift of communication is so important! Thank you for sharing this. Prayed for your family, as well as Sara above.
Donna, it sounds like you were a help and you continue to be a blessing to your friend; by sharing the experience and now, by remembering with her. It’s not about fixing it, but sitting with her in her trial, and it sounds like you are doing just that. God’s blessings, and may he uphold you and her both.
Emily