A few weeks ago, I found out I was going to be an aunt. Calm down, calm down. Logan and Liz, my dear dear friends, were expecting a baby! I count Logan as my older brother, and I adore his wife, Liz. They're an amazing, inspiring couple, and I was so excited to hear that they were pregnant. Amanda (another dear friend) and I were already arguing over who was going to be the coolest aunt.
Last night, Logan posted this status on facebook, "The baby didn't make it - Throw a prayer up for us if you get a chance. God is good!"
Probably not the easiest thing in the world to announce.
Tonight, I met with my friend Michelle. We went out to dinner to celebrate the end of a long few weeks for her. She had just finished a commitment to teach music at an English camp, and it had been really frustrating and exhausting for her.
Over pizza at our favorite Moldovan restaurant, Michelle shared her challenges and struggles of the last few weeks since we returned from our cruise. We talked about our interns and their transitions and our new experiences as supervisors. We giggled over our super cute Moldovan waiter (and decided his attractiveness was a three-part combination of amazing jaw structure, a real genuine smile, and that stylish, black hat all Celentano's employees have to wear). And we talked about the exhaustion and homesickness and time constraints.
I'll be honest: it was refreshing not to hear someone else's struggles, but just simply to be able to focus on someone else's life.
Too often I become self-absorbed. Not intentionally trying to focus it all on me, but becoming consumed with the thoughts and fears and hopes and frustrations of my job-search, my relationships, my projects at work, my personal walk of faith. None of which are bad to consider. They need attention and commitment, and I need to constantly surrender them to Christ. But more often, I need to shut down my self-analysis for a while and just listen to someone else. To take a few minutes to listen, to really listen. Not seeking advice. Not wondering what I can learn from them and their situations, but just listening to them. Being silent and letting them pour out what has been bottled up within them. Focusing on their needs and struggles and challenges and successes. Rejoicing with them, and crying with them.
I don't always have a profound word of advice to share. I certainly don't know what it feels like to lose your child. But I know loss. We all know loss. We've all had the valleys, the dark moments, those times when everything seems to go wrong. When one minute you are so full of excited anticipation, and the next everything seems to come crashing down around you. Moments of exhaustion. Moments of weariness. Moments where even though you may be an adult all you want to do is curl up in your parents' bed and have your mom make everything better. Moments where all we can find to pray is "God, help."
It's these moments where we need friends. We need to be loved, to be prayed over, to be prayed with. We need encouragement and understanding. We need our brothers and sisters in Christ to intercede on our behalf. Because our God is faithful. He is good. He is righteous. And sometimes we just need to be reminded of that until we can say it again on our own.
Tonight, will you just stop and pray with me for Logan and Liz, for healing and hope and wholeness once again, for peace in spite of the pain? Will you pray for renewed strength and patience for Michelle this week?
And if you're feeling a little too consumed with thoughts and fears and concerns over your own present situation, look up from the notebook of scribbled plans and back-up plans for your future and look around at the people you love. Forget about yourself for a little while, a listen to someone else's story.
~ Redeemed
