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.

Bless and Enable

 

I'm combining Five Minute Friday (enable) with the Rethink Church Lent challenge (bless).

I've been blessed particularly in the last twelve months with good friends: people who have really been there for me by texting or ringing, dropping off meals so Adi didn't have to cook, and sending cards, flowers and gifts. 

I had a WhatsApp video call yesterday with an old friend with whom I used to work. We haven't spoken for a few years and she listened as I relayed rather a woeful tale of mental and physical ill health to her. She didn't try to fix me or minimise my pain, meaning I felt heard and safe. She did direct me to this YouTube song which I've listened to twice since speaking with her.

The truth in this song is enabling me to keep going in what is possibly the darkest, most difficult season of my life. Hear what Job and Shane & Shane and John Piper and God are saying: for the believer, no pain is for nothing. It is earning for us an eternal weight of glory. Right now, I'm choosing to believe that. 

It is important that pain is acknowledged and that we sit with each other in our pain, grief and anger, not minimising or spiritualising it away. It's okay not to be okay. We can be hurting and broken now but it's not for nothing. God has a purpose in it even though we mostly can't begin to understand. That's why He's bigger than us. His thoughts aren't our thoughts and His ways are higher than ours. But that doesn't mean He doesn't sit with us in our pain and count our tears in His bottle (or an equivalent if, like me, you find it near impossible to cry).

The Yorkshire Pudding Club

If you've ever read and enjoyed The Fat Ladies Club, you'll like Milly Johnson's fictional The Yorkshire Pudding Club.

The three main characters are: quiet but determined Helen, career-woman Janey and emotionally-complicated Elizabeth. They are best friends who all fall unexpectedly pregnant within days of each other.

Since they are all in their late thirties, one might assume they'd be delighted. But it's not as simple as that.

Helen is desperate for a baby but is worried about her husband who seems less than pleased. Stuck in an unhappy and abusive marriage, how can Helen protect herself and her baby?

Janey's husband is ecstatic - if slightly burdened by guilt - that he is going to become a father. But for Janey, this pregnancy has come at a bad time since she is up for her dream promotion. She doesn't want to spoil her husband's delight in the baby but is unable to share in it.

Elizabeth is consumed with fear that she won't be able to love her baby since she knows so little about love herself after an unhappy childhood. She is determined to push everyone away and remain fiercely independent. Until the return of an old friend who somehow manages to slip through some of her barriers.

In different ways, all three women find themselves empowered by their pregnancies. As their boobs and bumps get bigger, so does their confidence in who they are as women.

I loved this book which is both funny and sad, sensitively touching on some difficult issues without being overshadowed by them. It's a great read and I'm happy to award it 4*.