Words

 

Words..... As I've got older - and hopefully a little wiser - I've learned a lot about the power of words.

I've discovered that saying very little or nothing (but being there for them) is often more helpful to someone going through trouble than saying too much or talking in cliches. 

'Are you over it yet?' to a new widow/er or a heartbroken friend is a huge no-no. I learned this by having it said to me years ago when I'd had my heart broken. It was so painful I resolved never to say it to anyone else. Another big no-no when someone is going through a painful relationship split is: 'There are plenty more fish in the sea.' That may be true but all the broken-hearted person usually wants is the particular 'fish' they've just lost. 

I've discovered - learning the hard way through painful experience - that simply being with someone and not necessarily saying anything is far more comforting than lots of empty words.

When I was first diagnosed with a mental health condition, what I longed for was a friend to simply sit with me in the pain. Words - however well meant (and we mostly do mean well when we spout words in these situations) - generally fell short of the mark because my pain felt so immense. I was going though a huge and extremely painful life change. I didn't want words, I needed a friend. 

Having said all that, words used gently and wisely can be healing balm. Last summer when I was physically very ill, I valued most the friends who made contact regularly. With the COVID restrictions and my need to shield, it was a very lonely time and it was easy - lying in bed feeling absolutely dreadful - to think I was forgotten. But a handful of faithful friends texted, rang or messaged me through Facebook. They kept me going. Another wonderful friend emailed every few days and sent cards and small gifts through the post every week.  The words 'How are you?' or 'Thinking of you' appearing on my phone shone bright in the midst of that horrible lonely darkness. 

When we were in Grace Church Nottingham, there were a number of people there with a prophetic gifting. To arrive on a Sunday morning feeling low and vulnerable only for someone to bring a 'word' during the worship never failed to make me feel better. Ten years ago when I suffered with ME/chronic fatigue, those 'words' kept me going from one week to the next.