Isolation – by Charlotte Martin

Isolation: Grief Illiteracy Pt 10

This is the tenth in a series of stories shining a spotlight on grief illiteracy. We hope to do two more. My involvement with this article series first began simply because after my only son died, I just wanted to be in church. I also desperately needed a loving church family. I never found a church to call “my church”. NOW all the churches are closed.

Fifteen years ago, I produced “The Compassion of Jesus Christ” to be shown in churches to educate churchgoers how to SHOW bereaved parents the compassion of Jesus Christ, rather than just TELLING us about it. I gave hundreds of my videos away to other bereaved parents from all across America so that they could show it to their pastors and see if they would show it at their churches.

A few people contacted me and said that either they could not get their pastors to show it, or that they couldn’t get their pastor to even watch it to see if they would want to show it. I learned years later that Hospice was showing it in Columbus, OH, but I never learned if any church anywhere showed it. It was easy to find people who told us about the love of Jesus, but it was not so easy to find those who showed us the love and compassion of Jesus.

The remnants of Hurricane Ike hit us pretty hard just a few years after my son died, so of course, I was still grieving terribly. Grief consumes so much of one’s energy, making physical chores extremely difficult. I worked in our yard until I was completely exhausted and could not take another step. I had seen in the newspaper that one could call a local church, and people from that church would come to help.

I called the number, and five people showed up within minutes. I was so incredibly relieved that I broke down and started crying and thanking them for coming. I knew that with the help of five people, we could finish up in probably fifteen minutes. I knew that I was so exhausted, that it would take me hours and hours to do if I had to do it myself.

The five people walked around the yard assessing what needed to be done, and then told me that they could NOT help me. They were only helping with REALLY BIG messes. I was not about to let them see me cry a second time. I could not even speak, so I ducked my head so they couldn’t see my new wave of tears of frustration and disappointment, as I walked toward the door. One of them yelled at me “Jesus loves you”, and the others chimed in – “Yes, Jesus loves you”.

For some reason, that upset me pretty bad. I no longer cared if they saw my tears. I turned and looked straight at them and said “Well, then – I wish Jesus would come down here and help me finish this mess”. Their only response was to quietly get in their vehicle and drive away. I suppose the only thing that would have made that any worse, was if they THEN invited me to come to their church. Of course, I had no idea THEN that one day I would, in fact, go to their church.

My only biological son died, but I had another (adopted) son who was left in my home as a baby. When he was in pre-school a few years later, I went to their church for a program for mothers of preschoolers. During the program, they paired each mother with someone, and we were supposed to share what our biggest problem was.

The woman told me that obesity was her biggest problem. She went on and on about how she had struggled with weight since she was a child. She cried. I cried with her. I cry when anyone else is crying. I cry if I even see someone crying on television commercials.

When it was my turn to talk, of course, I cried when I told her my only biological son had drowned. That is as far as I got. She held up her hand like a traffic cop and said, “Stop right there. Grief is nothing more than depression, and you can either choose to be depressed, or you can choose NOT to be depressed”. I ran to the restroom to cry again. She came after me and said, “I’m just trying to help you, but you must not want help”.

Of course, I ran and got in my car and left the church, without saying another word.

All I’ve wanted for several years in the midst of my isolation is to be surrounded by people who love like Jesus, who have the compassion of Jesus, and I just knew that if I could just find the right pastor and the right congregation I could find the compassion I was looking for. But on my quest from pastor to pastor, from congregation to congregations, from church to church, I never found the compassion I so desired.

I only found that everyone… even the most knowledgeable of theologians, the most active of congregations, and the most humble of pastors… everyone… is grief illiterate.

I still search for that compassionate connection today… hoping that someone will know how to relate to a grieving mother and to show me the love of Jesus Christ… but now, because of the Coronavirus, all the churches are closed. And so, my isolation continues.