How to Be with Someone Who’s Weeping

Three words: Just. Be. There.

You can stop reading now, because that’s what I’m going to tell you for the rest of this post. Just be there. The rest will take care of itself.

If you’re still reading, put this down for a minute and grab (find?) your Bible so you can read the first two chapters of Job. (Rhymes with “robe.”) Pay special attention to the last three verses of chapter 2. Go ahead; I’ll wait for you….

(If you don’t know the story, and in case you don’t pause to look it up, you should know Job was a wealthy man who loses everything in those two chapters. Servants and livestock, then his ten grown children, and soon his body is covered with sores that itch and burn.)

There, at the end of chapter 2, did you see what Job’s friends did? For a whole week, they did what I said: Just. Be. There. They showed up after receiving the hard news about their friend. Upon their arrival, they tore their robes and wept aloud and then just sat there. In silence. In solidarity with their friend who has every reason to weep. Their presence spoke so loudly that they didn’t need to say a word.

For a whole week.

They didn’t try to fix him. They didn’t try to talk Job out of how he felt. They didn’t blame him or throw platitudes at him.

Well, actually, they did do those things. For most of twenty chapters, after that first week, they do those things–and in the end their avalanche of words are seen to have been misguided (Job 42.7-9). But I like to remember the wisdom they showed before they opened their mouths. It’s lovely, isn’t it? They were just…there. I like to picture them sitting there calmly even while Job sometimes raved, sometimes sobbed, tried unsuccessfully to sleep, and perhaps told some stories of his beloved children, or of some memorable seasons tending livestock or bumper crops. They’re just there. They let Job be who he is in this unspeakable time.

Most of us aren’t going to find ourselves next to friends going through the kind of calamity Job was. But it’s not a long stretch to imagine one of our friends weeping in our presence.

Especially in a time like the one we’re in now. Many of us are weeping at the death of a loved one, or with concern for someone in the hospital. Those experiences are fundamentally different in this time of social distancing and precautions against a pandemic.

But there are lots of reasons for tears right now, beyond a loved one’s illness or death. Here are a few examples; I’m sure you can think of more.

• Life events like graduations that are happening without the ceremonies and the parties.
• Weddings postponed or carried out without beloved family members present.
• The loss of jobs, and a bleak outlook for the next one.
• Our churches not yet meeting in person, or meeting with precautions that eliminate much of what we used to savor.
• Rage and despair over the news of yet another unjustified killing–or ridiculous accusation–of an unarmed black man in America.
• The loss of so many summer plans: softball tournaments, summer camps, mission trips, vacations, and lazy days at the pool.
• The rescheduling, and ultimate uncertainty, of family, church, and business events that were important, and long-awaited.
• The near impossibility of simultaneously doing childcare while working from home.
• Free-floating anxiety about mortality and the possibility of being hospitalized without loved ones able to visit.
• The inability to hug our grandchildren, or our grown children.
• Disagreement with loved ones over the risks of COVID-19 and how to deal with distancing, masks, reopening and more.
• Daily reports of cases and deaths, and the latest decisions by governors and other officials, which present new questions, and sometimes disputes, and endless conversations about what is necessary and whose interests come first.

My friend Lauren Loonsfoot posted a “word cloud” based on responses she received from friends last week when she asked for one word that described how they were doing. Take a look.

The bigger the word, the more people said it. No wonder we are weeping! Even the good words–“blessed,” “coping”–can sometimes bring tears.

I should probably let you in on a basic truth I hold about tears: They’re holy. They’re a way our body works with our emotions and our anxieties and our exhaustion. Weeping releases some of that. I’m sure some of you have been conditioned not to cry, and I understand our culture does that to some of us. But I’m deeply grateful (in a way that’s rather inexplicable to my husband) for the awkward grace of tears.

You could read all kinds of advice about dealing with grieving friends. Here’s one example worth reading. But the core truth that surfaces again and again is what I already told you. Just be there. Make room for that person to do the holy work of letting out that hurt.

We’ll discover pretty quickly it’s in ourselves that we have to make that room. Room to hold, sit with, shut up and listen–whatever is needed. But never in a way that shames, or hurries, or tries to minimize those feelings that are engulfing the one we’re with. We might find ourselves weeping along the way. That’s OK, too.

I know some of you are thinking, “But what if they need professional help?” Sure, sometimes that’s a question that needs to be asked. (Here’s an article that offers some guidance for when to seek help.)

But most of the time, we move through grief. It’s not ever simple and rarely a smooth progression. But I’ve observed something with women in my prison congregation who feel like they’ll never stop crying, even though they have every reason to give up hope. Even with the worst circumstances, we don’t cry forever. It feels like this won’t ever stop, but one of these days we’ll realize we’re not crying as much as we were yesterday, and we’ll find ourselves smiling about something we didn’t today. We don’t cry forever.

That’s a comfort to me when I’m the one crying. I hope it will be to you, too, when you’re the one sitting next to a weeping friend. They won’t cry forever, almost certainly. Just be there.

Seriously. Suck up whatever this raises for you and just–say it with me!–be there.

Photo by zenad nabil on Unsplash