When the World Seems Like a Terrible Place

I recall sitting with a woman a few years ago whose only son had unexpectedly died. I had sat in the same place a couple of years before when her husband had passed away. Of course, the loss of her son was opening the old wound, not yet nearly healed, caused by her husband’s death.

With tear-filled eyes and pursed lips she lamented, “Oh, how terrible life can be! Isn’t this world a terrible place?”

What could I say? On the one hand, I believe that the world can be a wonderful and enchanting place. There are times of fun and joy and happiness. 

On the other hand, and especially for her right then, the world was indeed a terrible place. Family she dearly loved were ripped from her life. She faced the prospect of countless days filled with heartache and endless nights of loneliness. Such grief cannot be dismissed with a quick, “Oh, it will be all right. You’ll be fine.” Or, “Don’t worry, he’s in a better place.” Regardless of whether or not these statements hold any truth, to minimize her feelings of loss at that moment would have done her a great disservice. More than anything, she needed someone to understand her pain and confusion.

“I know, this is really difficult,” I finally said, taking her hand. “I’m sorry.”

She eventually did get through both losses. It was far from easy and took plenty of time, but with help from her friends and hope from her faith she was able put her life back together. She was able to laugh and sing again.

When the world seems like a terrible place, I think it is good to remember a few things. Such as not to blame yourself for something that may not be your fault. The death of a family member is a good example. “If only I had seen what was going on.” “If only I had been there.” “If only I had encouraged him more to go see a doctor or a counselor.” If onlys assume you have power in somebody’s life that you simply don’t have. There are some things which are beyond your control. 

And don’t beat yourself up because you think you ought to feel better. You’ll heal in your own time and there’s no sense in “feeling bad about feeling bad.”

It also helps to remember that  you will get through this thing, even if you don’t think so at the time. One widowed woman remarked to me six months after her spouse’s death, “I used to have more bad days than good days. Now I have more good days.” She added that she believed she would never get over her loss, but she said, “I know I can get through it.”

And remember that you are not isolated. There may be nothing more helpful than reaching out to others when you hurt. It is also important to draw on your spiritual resources. In very many ways, you are not alone.

Pain and suffering, from time to time, will inevitably take up residence in your life as unwelcome guests. You can’t ignore their presence. They’ll break stuff and mess everything up and, when they finally leave, you will have to put it all back together the best you can. But leave a space for joy to move back in. Joy may have left, but it’s not far away.

And when it moves back in, your world will be a much better place.

-- Steve Goodier

Image:flickr.com/Joe Penna

Angels with Broken Wings

I know a woman who gave each person in her family a golden angel lapel pin one Christmas. “Wear it on your collar or shoulder,” she said, “to remind you that your guardian angel is always looking over your shoulder.”

Her brother noticed his pin had a broken wing. He held up the damaged angel and quipped: “It figures. My guardian angel is missing a wing. How can she watch out for me? She can’t even take care of herself!”

But I think the value of his pin wasn’t that it was a symbol of a guardian angel, but that the angel’s wing was broken. For at that time, he had been diagnosed with cancer. In some ways, he, himself, was like an angel with a damaged wing. He was wounded and diseased. He felt broken.

I wonder if we all don’t feel that way a little, even if we have never been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. At times, we all hurt. We experience losses. Sometimes loneliness feels disabling. Like that angel, we are each broken in some way, even if our damage is interior and invisible to others.

But there is a secret that angels with broken wings know: they realize they are still able to fly...by embracing each other. And broken humans, too, do best when hanging on to one another. They can go through unimaginably difficult times when they go it together. 

Two years after that Christmas, the man left this life behind while his family grieved. They felt most acutely that singular pain of loss and loneliness reserved for mourning loved ones. Remembering his angel with the damaged wing, they decided they would travel their path of grief by embracing each other, physically as much as emotionally. Perhaps by hanging on to one another, they reasoned, they could allow their own broken wings, and broken hearts, to heal. 

I watched them at the funeral - and afterward - embracing. And holding on. I knew then that somehow they would be all right and that someday each would fly again.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Juliett Foxtrott

When Suffering Visits

Image by marija jure

It may leave a valuable gift...


We are changed, sometimes in unexpected ways, by the problems of life.

One of Canada's most famous physicians was Dr. William Osler. Many stories are told of this beloved doctor, but one of the most revealing comes from World War I.

Friends recalled the day when Osler was working in one of Britain's military hospitals during the war. He was called out of the wards during his daily rounds to be given an important message; his own son had been killed on the fields of France.

Stunned by the news, he still came back to pick up his rounds. For a long period afterward he was noticeably different. And those who knew him best said that he changed as a physician that day. The cheerful note was gone from his voice and never again did friends hear the tune which he so often whistled as he went from ward to ward.

Though these things never returned, something eventually came to take their place. Everyone noticed a new compassion in his care of the soldiers who each day streamed in from the battlefield. Before, he had the professional concern of the physician, so important to the practice of medicine; now there was an added discernible note of a personal compassion, like that of a father for his son....

Like most people who have experienced such losses, Osler must have spent considerable time in grief. But as he healed and integrated the loss into his life, it left him a different person.

Pain will do that. It changes us, often in unexpected ways. It can leave us angry and broken, or, as in the case of Osler, it can bring forth qualities such as compassion or tenderness. It is as if the physician channeled his pain into energy and love for others, caring for them as he would care for his own child.

Helen Keller, who found a way to thrive though she went through life both sightless and deaf, knew plenty about suffering. She wisely said, "The struggle of life is one of our greatest blessings. It makes us patient, sensitive, and Godlike. It teaches us that although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it."

Yes, the world is full of suffering. We can't avoid it no matter how hard we try. But it is also full of examples of people, like you and me, getting through it. Those who overcome great challenges will be changed, and often in unexpected ways. For our struggles enter our lives as unwelcome guests, but they bring valuable gifts. And once the pain subsides, the gifts remain.

These gifts are life's true treasures, bought at great price, but cannot be acquired in any other way.

-- Steve Goodier

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When Others Grieve

People should never have to suffer loss alone. Yet, how do you comfort those who hurt? I think that offering genuine support and comfort is one of the most important things we can do for others. And sometimes one of the most difficult.

Experts tell us, among other things, to simply say, "I'm sorry" or "I love you." They warn us against trying to explain away the death or loss; against theologizing or philosophizing about it. Often, the less said, the better, so long as you are present, you care and you listen.

American poet Edgar Guest told of a neighbor by the name of Jim Potter. Mr. Potter ran the drug store in the neighborhood where Edgar Guest lived. Their relationship was cordial, if not deep. Mostly they smiled and exchanged greetings when they happened to see one another.

One tragic night the poet's first-born child died. He felt crushed and overcome with grief. Several days after the death, Guest had reason to go to the drug store run by his neighbor. When he entered, Jim Potter motioned for him to come behind the counter.

"Eddie," he said, "I really can't express to you the great sympathy that I have for you at this time. All I can say is that I am terribly sorry, and if you need for me to do anything, you can count on me."

Many years later Edgar Guest reflected on that encounter. He said, "Just a person across the way -- a passing acquaintance. Jim Potter may have long since forgotten that moment when he extended his hand to me in sympathy, but I shall never forget it -- never in all my life. To me it stands out like the silhouette of a lonely tree against a crimson sunset."

As the poet thought back to that unhappy time, one vivid memory of a brief and genuine moment of comfort still lingered years later. It was a moment that meant everything to a grieving father.

Those who comfort others bring no less than a piece of heaven to earth.

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Erick RO