Can you meet me in the "half empty"?

The Lord is so wonderful with me. Every time I am struggling with something He has a way of talking to me and letting me know He cares. Today, He did that through this Sunday's church service.
But before we get to that I want to ask something of you. Please read this until the end. I want you to read this. You need to read this! I do not want you to listen to me or cause you to pity me. I want you to understand because, and I really wish this wasn't so but it most almost certainly will, one day you or someone you love will be in a place like this. My prayer is that you remember what you read on this post and it made you conscious of what you do or say.

Like I told you on my last post I have recently been diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome after Cancer treatment. I have only said that to a very few people. Their response had left me a little battered. ALL of them said the same thing to me: it's OK; I am sure you can get better if you just try.
I remember once watching a Facebook video of how it would look like if people spoke of physical diseases the way they speak of mental diseases. In the video, the guy is ridiculed for a very visible ailment and told to "just try harder" or "don't give up." I know this is something said to people with mental disease, who are stigmatized for needing therapy or pills. The kicker to me is when in the video a friend watches him getting his insulin shot and suggests treating his diabetes with natural remedies. Most would jump to call out the ridiculousness of the suggestion, but we cancer patients have to endure that day in and out.

I would say cancer left me with a better spirit capable of seeing beauty in ugly places and being capable of empathy I was not capable of before. The hurting seek out each other because only among us do we feel understood. Everywhere else we are not heard but served with ways to fix us.

"How are you doing?", they ask.
"It's been tough. I can't sleep every night because of my legs are in CONSTANT pain due to the chemo-induced neuropathy," I respond.
"Oh! That is lack of exercise. You need to do more exercise to fix that."
"You have to sleep with your legs raised in a pillow."
"You should take 'X' pill that helped me with my (not-neurophathic) pain."
And I wasted my time explaining why in my case that didn't apply, but I am never heard. They'll just start serving me with more ways I can "fix" myself.
"I was just told I have chronic fatigue syndrome."
"But that is something you can overcome with exercise and good sleeping," replies the person who has never heard of chronic fatigue syndrome or has absolute no idea what that is.
And good sleeping as an answer to someone in pain EVERY night! Seriously?!

Humans don't naturally know how to be supportive. They just can't see someone in pain. They will try to fix it.
A mother is sad she can't have more children. "But at least you have a kid."
A teenager is sad she didn't get into the college she wanted. "But there are more you can apply to."
A parent is frustrated her child is going on a wrong path. "Be happy. This is a teaching moment."
A father just lost his job that sustains his family. "God will open new doors. Don't be sad."

Why can't you meet people where they are? Why try to bring them to your side of reality? Come to their side for once. You know, if someone opens up about his or her pain with you, they are not doing so to hear your input on their situation. Trust me, we the hurting are smart enough to try any means to alleviate our pain. Pain is not always fixable and feeling it is not always bad. I was feeling very upset with my encounters with friends who I open up to about how I feel just to end up in the receiving end of a sermon on what to do or how to feel. I used to be like this and I am grateful cancer gave me a better spirit. Now, I seriously wonder what gives anyone (including myself) the right to tell another one how he or she should feel about something.

Yes, she has a kid, but hat doesn't take the pain of her inability to have the children she desires.
Yes, she could apply to other colleges, but she had dreamed and worked hard for that college all through high school.
Yes, it is a teaching moment, but lately those parents feel all they do is teach and that teaching is not sticking. They worry for their child and feel lost on what else to do or try.
Yes, that father will be able to find a way eventually to provide for his family, but he is fearful of how long that will take and the sacrifices his family will have to make.
Yes, you might have the RIGHT answer. Your answer MIGHT not be wrong. This doesn't mean you HAVE to give it.

Sometimes, we want someone who will cry with us. Just acknowledge our pain and cry with us. Sometimes, we just want someone who will pray with us (right there and now) and leave it to God because only God can say or do something. Sometimes, we want someone who will ask: "How can I make things better for you?" without suggesting what else I can do in my seemingly unchangeable situation. Sometimes, we just want to remind you what our reality looks like not to provoke pity but to remind you to cut us some slack. Maybe we are feeling a greater burden because we can see our pain is starting to get to you, and it only adds to our pain.

I was feeling really down about the lack of empathy around my new reality. The pastor spoke of this at church, and his take on the issue was really refreshing. "Is the glass half-empty or half-full? It is both. When Paul says in Philippians 4:4 'Rejoice in the Lord always; and again I say, rejoice!' he is not talking about happy-clappy joy. Paul showed in the book of Philippians that he had learned to rejoice in some pretty harsh conditions. But it was not an 'always smiling, laugh out loud' joy. To ask that of someone in pain, concern, or fear would be disrespectful. The best way I can describe that rejoice always is: a positive, hopeful, optimistic knowledge that everything will be OK because God is in control and He is Who we trust." I can see the glass half full because in whatever circumstance life throws at me He is still with me and He is my side of full. I can rejoice in my future in His hands, but that does not negate pain, hurt, or fear. He meets us there. He gives us promises from which to hold on to on these circumstances, but not before reassuring us that He understands us.

I was talking with a girl at church who lost her mom to breast cancer. It was hereditary cancer, and she fears for herself and her sisters. I asked her if she knew why Jesus had been born. "Why didn't God just send Jesus down as a full grown man? Why did He have to live among us?" I asked. "This is the beauty of Him being among us: He can say He understands us because He walked in our shoes. He understands us because He suffered for us. Isn't that amazing?" Oh, how our loving Lord, creator of everything, is able to meet us in the half-empty.


1 Kings 19
4... He [Elijah] came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” 5 Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep...

8 So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God. 9 There he went into a cave and spent the night.

And the word of the Lord came to him: “What are you doing here, Elijah?”
10 He replied, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”
11 The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.
What a beautiful picture. He passed by in the whisper. He whispers His love and hope to us. He is gentle, soft, kind, and loving. He listens and sustains. He understands and responds. He is not late. He is ALWAYS there. Can we be more like Him? We are nothing compare to Him, yet He understands us. Can we seek to understand first? Can we listen before we speak? Can we refrain from speaking?

I hope you never have to see a loved one in long-term suffering. Don't lose patience, even though it is frustrating for you (the non-sufferer) too. Don't tell them what to feel or what to do. You don't know how hard it is, even if it has affected your life as well. Don't give up. Even if it feels there is no hope or joy: pain and joy, suffering and hope are not mutually exclusive. I hope this helps you be better prepared to be there for someone who really needs you to be there.