Please No Platitudes
This season has been challenging, to say the least. This summer, my parents, sisters, grandmother, aunt, uncles, and cousin were all evacuated due to the Carr Fire. My husband and I came from Chico to Redding to help them evacuate, and housed them for a week post-fire. The loss of my parent’s and grandmother’s homes felt imminent for days, and we later found the flames came within yards of their properties.
After that, we faced several deeply personal challenges and losses, including a first pregnancy and consequent heartbreaking miscarriage. Two weeks after the miscarriage, the devastating Camp Fire wiped out Paradise, just miles east of Chico. Due to our location in Chico, we packed in case of evacuation. Thankfully, we were safe, but many friends and thousands of community members had lost everything.
Less than a month post-Camp Fire, we were notified by the property owners we are renting from that they would be selling the house we are living in and that we had 60 days to find a new home. With thousands of Paradise residents desperately searching for housing in Chico, our search is currently looking grim.
Let’s talk for a minute about platitudes.
If you’ve gone through an extremely painful time in your life, or faced suffering of some kind, you probably know exactly the types of comments I’m talking about.
I won’t even give examples of platitudes because a) you can probably think of a few off the top of your head and b) so much of how a statement is received is about relationship and authenticity. If I know you care deeply about me and are really in it with me, you telling me “God WILL provide” means something completely different than an acquaintance saying it in a Facebook comment. (PS, I’m extra dangerous to say platitudes to, I’ll admit that. I can smell inauthenticity a mile away, so… sorry.)
I know that it’s hard to know what to say when someone is hurting, or in pain. It’s OK if you don’t always have the right thing to say. But I just want to encourage you to genuinely show up for the people you know who are hurting. Listening to someone rant or share is one of the most powerful things you can do for their pain. You don’t need to turn it around to make it sound positive or bring it back to some Bible verse. It’s important for those who are suffering to be allowed to mourn and actually feel their emotions. They don’t need you to tell them what they should be feeling.
I also think a lot of people aren’t ready to hear your thoughts about God when they’re in pain. They will work through this with God in their timing, and if they’re feeling extremely angry with God in that moment, they often don’t need to hear, “God’s got this!”
I had a conversation with a dear friend yesterday and I just cried and ranted and shared all the pain going on in my heart. For the longest time she just listened and told me my hurt is valid and it’s all unfair. As I started to process practical next steps, she kindly asked me, “Do you want to keep ranting, or do you want to talk about practical stuff?”
That question felt so respectful. She let me lead the conversation and asked me what I needed. And I did want to talk about the practical stuff; so she asked me questions. AND she waited for me to ask for her thoughts and opinions. It all helped me SO much.
So in this time when our community is in so much pain and Eric and I are going through the hardest season we’ve ever been in, I just wanted to share a few things I’m learning that really do help. (Though I do need to qualify- everyone is different and experiences suffering differently. These are just my experiences of what does/doesn’t help. And truly I’m not trying to offend or call out anyone here.)
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Instead of, “I’m here for you.” Try, “What can I do for you? Would __ help?”
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Instead of, “God’s got this! Everything will be OK!” (UM, everything is not always going to be okay. The Bible promises we WILL have suffering.) Try, “I’m so sorry you’re hurting. This just sucks, it’s so unfair.”
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Also, try, “Can I bring you a meal? How about tomorrow?” In my opinion, bringing a meal always helps.
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Instead of saying, “I’ll pray for you,” and never actually praying, try, “I’m praying right now.” And then pray. Or offer, “Do you need someone to just sit with you and listen? Do you want me to come over and pray for you?”
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Instead of, “It’s okay because you’ll have/get XYZ in the future!” (This is really you just telling someone to stop hurting or mourning.) Try, “I’m so sorry for your loss. This isn’t okay, and you can take as long as you need to mourn and feel this hurt.”
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Instead of, “I know how that feels, my grandpa died a few years ago,” or, in any way comparing your pain to theirs (which is just something used to make YOU feel less uncomfortable), try, “I’m so sorry you have to go through this. How are you feeling?”
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Instead of, “Sorry I didn’t check on you!” try, “How are you doing?”
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Really, just try, “how are you doing?” And if you genuinely have the bandwidth to help, try, “Is there ANYTHING I can do to help?” or, “I know you know this, but our home is always open to you.” (This one has meant a lot to me lately.)
I know that I’m guilty of saying these platitudes and hurting people who are suffering with my words, too. I know I haven’t done it perfectly. But in going through this season, I’m learning a lot about what helps and what makes the hurt worse. I’m learning to be more authentic in how I comfort those in pain. And if you don’t know how to comfort those who are suffering, or if you’re guilty of one of the statements above in our conversations, please don’t apologize to me. Just promise me you’ll take 20 minutes to look up how to best support someone going through suffering and get a few ideas of what to say and what not to say to those around you. We can get better at this together.
