So lonely

He was sitting by himself on the end of the very front row in the room where I was scheduled to speak. I had arrived early to ensure my power point presentation worked at the venue so was preoccupied at first. But then when I had to wait for a staff member to assist, this gentleman and I started to chat. I had already noticed how isolated he seemed to be—and soon I also noticed he was attached to an oxygen machine on his wheelchair.

I cannot remember how our conversation actually began, but it was not long before he told me, a complete stranger, that his wife of sixty-three years had passed away a few months earlier. Then his eyes quickly filled with tears.

‘However much we think we’re prepared for times like this,’ he whispered, ‘it is much, much worse. The pain is terrible. I’m just glad I didn’t go before she did—I wouldn’t have wanted her to experience such pain.’

By then, I was holding his hand. Still with tears in his eyes, he told me how his wife had battled cancer for sixteen years and we talked about how good it was that they had had those extra years together. My heart went out to him—what more could I say? We were in a secular setting and I knew nothing about him.

In the end, after asking him his name, I told him how my husband and I have been in church ministry for a long time and that I would pray for him. I was unsure how he would react but, in an instant, his face lit up with a lovely, grateful smile and he squeezed my hand. In any other setting, I would have prayed out loud for him but had to be content with a quick, silent prayer instead.

A little later, we chatted briefly again and, when he saw some slides in my presentation showing scenes from various ruins in Turkey, he told me he had been a tiler and potter. This gave me the opportunity to include him later as I spoke and he smiled and nodded when I did. Afterwards, I had no chance to catch up with him again. But I hoped he had enjoyed my presentation and that both it and the interaction we had had went some small way towards comforting him in his grief and obvious loneliness.

We do not have to look far, do we, to find lonely people around us? Some may also be carrying heavy burdens of grief like this man—a grief that needs to be shared and listened to with empathy. As this man has come to mind, I continue to pray for him, especially that he will have family and friends around him who understand and have time to listen. But, above all, I pray he will know God’s deep comfort in his own latter years and know too that he is never truly alone with God by his side, just as King David declared long ago. And may we each experience the truth of these words in our own lives too.

Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
    for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me. Psalm 23:4 NLT

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Precious lessons from life’s painful times

It’s probably safe to say that most of us try to avoid pain as much as we can. It’s not pleasant. It can restrict our activities. It can dull our enjoyment of life. And … well, it just hurts!

This week, a friend sent me a beautiful card. Inside, she had written how she hoped I would soon be rid of the severe lower back and leg pain I have had for several weeks and urged me to let her know if there was any way she could help me. I was moved by her kind words – and I knew she meant them. My friend is always very sensitive to the needs of others, often reaching out to help them in all sorts of ways.

One reason she does this, I suspect, is that she herself knows what pain is like. In recent years, she has experienced the death of two close family members. She is often in physical and emotional pain herself. And right now another family member has severe ongoing health issues. Naturally speaking, she would be the last person one would expect to have the physical and emotional resources to care so sacrificially for others. Yet from God’s perspective, she has exactly what it takes. To me, she epitomises Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 1:3-4:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.

Unlike my friend, I have not been faced with such terribly sad events and debilitating illnesses in my life. Yes, I have had back trouble and bad sciatica before, but these have eventually passed. Yet this time, the pain seems more severe and less like wanting to go away quickly. I am on medication. I use hot packs on my back. I do exercises and see my physio. I pray for healing and others do too. But still the pain persists.

So … what am I learning through it all? What good is God bringing out of this for me and hopefully others? I believe it has given me a small glimpse at least into what life must be like for those who suffer all the time from chronic physical pain. My heart now goes out to them so much more. I can see how this could colour their whole experience of life and cause them to feel somewhat alienated and removed from those around them. And I can appreciate much more what an effort it must be for them to participate in the normal, everyday activities we often take for granted.

It is too late now for me to empathise with my father, who himself suffered from extremely severe and chronic sciatica for as long as I can remember. And I believe I understand now at least one of the reasons he was often so short-tempered and withdrawn, unable to enjoy life to the full. But I can do better with others – it is not too late for that.

What lessons have you learnt through the hard things of life? Is God using your pain to bring comfort to others?

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