When Life Doesn't Make Sense

Since Randy and I have been together we've buried my 89-year-old grandmother, a 51-year-old friend, and our infant grandson.

Right before we got married, a man hired Randy to make meals for a family in his church when the husband/father in the family was given two months to live. The man ended up only living a few more days.

This week I've seen on Facebook that one of my teammates when I played high school softball lost her husband, the father of her four children, to suicide. The high school we attended is also mourning the loss of two current high school students, teenagers who lost their lives in a car accident.

Perhaps we can understand when someone dies just shy of their 90th birthday, but what about the 51-year-old personal trainer whose life has been spent working for children and family services? What about the young father? The teenagers who have their whole lives ahead of them? The infant whose arrival had been anticipated for 9 months with joy and love and expectation?

How do we make sense of life when tragedies like this happen? Can we? Are we even supposed to?

I recently heard a pastor point to John 10:10 when discussing this matter:

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

This quote is from Jesus, therefore, this pastor said, only the things that bring life can we attribute to God. The things that bring death, therefore, are the work of the devil.

It makes sense if you look at the life of Job. Job who had everything taken from him -- his family, his career, his health. Scripture tells us that all those things were the work of Satan. But the Book of Job ends with God giving Job another spouse, more children, restored health, and even greater wealth and work. God is the giver of Life; Satan the author of destruction.

To me, looking at it from this perspective is helpful. When people say, "God needed another angel" I understand why people would be angry with God when their loved one dies. But if death is the work of the enemy, then I can determine not to let him win by stealing the life and the future out of me too.

But just because it's helpful for me to see death from this perspective, doesn't mean it will be comforting to everyone. One thing became very apparent to me at the funeral we attended most recently:

Not only do we each grieve in our own unique ways, but we are also comforted in our own unique ways.

When we arrived at Danny's funeral, his younger sister came up to us and dissolved into Randy's arms. Randy held her in her grief without a word. She took obvious relief in his embrace and was eventually able to share her feelings.

Danny's mother is a practicing Scientologist, so, during his funeral, there were some readings from the Christian Science manual by Mary Baker Eddy. It was obvious that these readings were of great comfort to the mother.

After the ceremony, Danny's older sister invited us to join her at her home to "tell stories". We did and all were able to laugh and celebrate and remember with fondness what an incredible man he was.

Randy and some of the other guys had been housemates with Danny and remembered drinking amaretto together, so we toasted a shot of amaretto in his memory.

I recently read of a young pastor who, early in his ministry, had a family in his church lose a young daughter. The pastor had a daughter near the same age. When he went to visit the family, he felt true compassion. He was unable to say a word; he simply put his arms around them and they cried together. Afterwards the family sent him a card that read, "Everything you said that day was perfect."

The family that we took meals to, the wife who lost her husband more quickly than expected, shared that, after not eating for months, her husband insisted on eating the food that we had brought. It was their last meal as a family, a final memory of a "normal" moment shared together.

So you see, what one person needs may be the opposite of what someone else needs. How one person processes loss may be completely different than how another person does.

I don't have any easy answers for how we deal with loss, or a tried and true method for comforting those who mourn.

But I can say that none of us escapes the heartache of loss. Some experience more tragic loss in more tragic ways than others, but none of us escapes it entirely. Loss is a common bond that joins us together in compassion and community.

May we honor one another by allowing grief to be expressed in multiple forms and to listen for ways that we can be of comfort.