It's been a gloomy day. Weatherwise and otherwise.
I didn't take this picture but it's awesome and it looks like every tree around me. Except here there is a darker sky and brighter snow.
I'm pretty sure I'm not going to find the right words so I'll do my best to say what comes to mind and hope it portrays the thoughts that have invaded my days and nights all week.
I have a hard time helping others because I feel like I have to have all of the answers and know what to do- I mean, what to actually do. I'm sharp at assessing and understanding. My compassion and empathy come easily for those whose sorrows likely surpass anything I'll go through in my life. But the "what to do" about it is rough and eats at me sometimes to tears.
This last weekend an adult client died that I've worked with over 13 months. He drove me crazy. He was mean. Never to me but to his kids, which is worse. He was slow to get anything done. He was impossible to motivate, showed terrible judgment that put his family in all sorts of risky situations. Still, I enjoyed him. He was funny. He was quirky. He was quite likeable in all of his goofiness, in all of his wild ideas. The family reminds me, quite perfectly, of the cousins and Uncle Eddie from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. It's just so fitting. So crazy and so loveable. For months, well, lots and lots of months, I've been saying to our team that I just didn't see us moving forward in a lasting way- like keeping his family safe- with him in the home. It's long and complicated but I've felt hopeless for awhile. Then he died. I've felt terrible about the negative things I've thought and even said. And his kids. These kids, who have been put through so much instability (like homelessness, like foodless [wait is that a word?], like through a roller coaster of emotional abuse) are now without a father. Yesterday I thought, "What's worse... living with such instability and emotional turmoil, or not having a father at all?" I think not having a father at all. I feel such heartache for them.
It is odd, because death doesn't bother me. Maybe in-the-moment... but I have firm, everlasting hope in Heavenly Father's plan and I believe this life is nothing compared to what's to come. But I ache for this family and in my own grief I can't stop thinking about it. I've longed to know what to do- what to physically do beyond understanding and showing compassion. I marveled at his funeral today because it reminded me he was a husband, father, brother, a friend, a person with struggles that started in his early childhood. I'd gotten to a point where I just forgot he was human- I'd become so frustrated with the daily crises and drama that he brought on himself. It's no excuse. I cried because the last 13 months seem like a failure to me. What could I have actually done to influence and bring change?
I decided to open my scriptures, pick a random verse, and 'ponderize' it. This I know is a word, haha. Memorize and Ponder. So I randomly picked Mosiah 18:9. Without quoting it word for word (though it's pretty close): "...mourn with those who mourn, comfort those who stand in need of comfort, stand as a witness to Christ in all times, in all things, and even where ye may be..." Something like that or pretty close. It is a good reminder that I don't need all of the answers. I probably will never know what to actually do. I need others to know I do care, I cry when they cry, I hug when they need to be hugged. Maybe knowing I sincerely care will mean something one day. ??
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