If a good friend called you today sobbing uncontrollably and
told you her husband had just died in a terrible car accident, how
would you respond to her? What would you say and do? Unfortunately,
most of us follow a caregiving model that actually makes matters
worse. Today and next week I want to contrast the conventional
approach I see being used all the time with a much more loving and
effective way. Let’s begin by looking at the destructive path most
of us take when called upon to offer comfort.
If a good friend called you today sobbing uncontrollably and told you her husband had just died in a terrible car accident, how would you respond to her? What would you say and do? Unfortunately, most of us follow a caregiving model that actually makes matters worse. Today and next week I want to contrast the conventional approach I see being used all the time with a much more loving and effective way. Let’s begin by looking at the destructive path most of us take when called upon to offer comfort.
The first goal in the mind of the conventional caregiver is to settle the grieving person down emotionally. I’ve seen this dozens of times in hospitals and funeral homes. After trying to be supportive for a while, the comforter decides there has been enough crying and it’s his job to stabilize the situation. So he offers a Kleenex and says, “There, there, that’s enough… settle down now… stop crying… that’s better… let’s go for a walk outside so you can feel better.” Translated: “I think that’s enough emotion, it’s time to move on.” The comforter feels that to do the job right, he must do whatever is necessary to pull the person together emotionally.
The second component in the conventional approach to comforting brokenhearted people is the “fix-it” stage, the “make it better” stage. A male friend’s engagement is broken, he’s a wreck and you want to help him feel better, so you say, “Hey, there’s other fish in the sea… you’ll have somebody else before you know it… in fact, there’s a girl I know at work who would be perfect for you.”
A female friend is rushed to the hospital with a miscarriage. She’s crushed and you want to help, so you remind her that she’s only 26 years old and there will be other opportunities to have a baby. But the last thing she wants to think about is getting pregnant; she wants to grieve the loss of her child.
The third goal in the mind of the conventional caregiver is to offer wise counsel. For some that means quoting Scripture, for others it means trying to say something profound that is suited to the gravity of the situation. Here’s a few of the more popular ones I hear at funerals: “Well, she had a full life.” “I guess God needed him more than we do.” “She’s a lot better off in heaven.” And as all these profundities are being uttered, the brokenhearted person is thinking, “You are not helping. This is not how I spell relief.”
A fourth goal in the conventional approach is to keep the caregiving brief. A hit and run approach is employed. They say their words, write their cards, express their sympathy, send their flowers… and they’re done. “That’s it, I did the caregiving thing.” They see comfort-giving as an event rather than an ongoing process. But those who have been through grief will tell you that the worst part often hits weeks or even months after the initial tragedy.
The final component in the conventional approach to caregiving is the notion that time will eventually take care of any loss – that the mere passing of time will heal all pain, so in a few weeks or months or years everything will be back to normal.
Well, there you have it – the five-step approach most often used by all of us. But in case you haven’t noticed, that approach doesn’t work very well. Lots of grieving people aren’t receiving the kind of support they need. So some seek escape in drugs or alcohol or other destructive activities, others just free-fall into depression for years and years.
Perhaps it’s time we learned how to offer genuine caregiving and left this pseudo-comforting behind.
