The posture of care

I was listening to podcast from Mars Hill Church. The speaker talked very poignantly and powerfully about the experiences he and his wife had after a miscarrage, how they were treated by well meaning people, who appeared increasingly uncomfortable interacting with them because they didn't know what to say.

I visited with a friend of mine who is battling lung cancer. When I got to the door her dog was barking furiously. My friend came to the door, told me to come in and moved to her knees to comfort the dog. I came in the door and moved to my knees as well and hugged her. We stayed in that position for at least a minute. There was no hurry to get up, but rather to communicate through touch and tears. Words were incredibly inadequate.

The speaker on the podcast talked about how his friend had had a child the same day that he and his wife miscarried. He talked about how his friend told him that he would wait as long as the couple that miscarried needed to, to introduce them to their baby. His friend knew the pain it would cause and was willing to wait His friend informed him that he would do anything the couple that lost their child needed him to do.

Care is like that. First and foremost, you can't care effectively for others when you haven't dealt with your own pain. You don't have the ability to be present for the other person because your own issues are screaming too loud.

After that, the posture assumed is whatever the other person needs to be able to deal with what life has dealt them.

Kneeling on the floor of a friend's house may have been a strange sight to some. There were no second thoughts or worries about what others were thinking about it. It was on our knees where we connected in her pain, her courage, her loss, and her hope.