Right before Sunday school this past Sunday morning, a friend of mine walked into the church building and mentioned there were several police cars and other first-responders right around the corner. All of us wondered: What’s going on?
Since I wasn’t teaching a Sunday school class that morning, I walked down the block to see if I could find out a little more information. Sure enough – there were at least three Sheriff’s cars and an EMT parked on the street with their lights still flashing. I knew I couldn’t just walk right up and ask what was going on because…well…no one would tell me anything, anyway. But I feared the worst. Two houses on that street are very close to each other. The vehicles were spread out along the street, so I couldn’t figure out an exact location. I froze as I realized that there are small children in both houses. Our kids have played in both of their yards.
Oh, I hope nothing happened to any of them.
Shortly after the worship service, I found out. A seven month-old boy died in his sleep the night before. How utterly devastating! What do you do? What do you say to a family that just experienced such an unspeakable, unthinkable tragedy?
My heart breaks every time I drive by their house. I’ve tried to be there for them as much as I can. Took them food yesterday. Went to the funeral today. They asked if the kids could come over this evening to play with the baby’s older (preschool age) brother and cousins. So we went over there this evening. Of course, now they begin the seemingly impossible task of carrying on. I get this sense that we need to be there with them, too. That we need to come alongside this aching family and somehow help them navigate this.
That’s what neighbors do, right?
They offer to watch the kids for a while.
They provide a shoulder to cry on when things are too overwhelming.
They help provide shelter in a world that’s crashing down all around.
Isn’t that the neighbor Jesus was talking about in the Parable of the Good Samaritan? And yes, that sounds like it’s going to get a little messy.
This week, I’ve been hugging my kids a little tighter each morning as they board the bus. Mrs. Wheeler’s voice has been ringing in my ears the last few days: “Hug your kids every day. Even when they’re big enough that they don’t want you to anymore.”
Matt, you will NEVER know how much it has helped to have you and your family so close. Reading this brings it all back. However, there are simple things that always remind me, daily. As they always will I am sure. The road to healing is gonna be a LONG one. I just wanted you to know that I thank him everyday for neighbors like you, standing beside us on this journey. Thank you soo much!!
See you soon,
Sarah
Sarah,
Never in a million years did I ever think you’d read this. But I’m glad you did. We’re here for you. And people all over the world have been praying for you!
My heart aches as I think about the pain you’re going through. And I’m sure my heartache doesn’t even come close to the tip of the iceberg of grief that you’re experiencing. I hope you continue to lean on God as your Comfort and your Strength during this horribly devastating time of pain and loss.
I only wish I could do more. I keep wishing there was a magic wand I could wave to make it all go away. That hasn’t shown up yet (and believe me, I keep looking for it). So in the meantime, we’ll be here for you whenever you need us. It is, after all, what neighbors do – isn’t it?
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