Today I talked to a mom who was struggling. It was a hidden grief. But it was still there, simmering under the surface. And as we talked about our children, we crossed the line of her grief.
And I said entirely the wrong thing.
I’ve read a lot of blogs and articles recently about ‘what not to say’ to someone dealing with great pain. Loss of a child. An illness. Infertility. A shift in expectation or hope. A loss of job or financial security. Miscarriage. Uncertainty. Repeatedly, I’ve read about all the “horrible” things that people said in times of grief or trouble. Well-meaning people saying exactly the wrong thing.
And today, it was me.
I meant it to be encouraging…what I said. But not knowing the whole story, my “maybe someday” was like a knife in her heart, because that “maybe someday” simply cannot be. It wasn’t that I caused her pain. It was that, instead of bearing her pain with her, affirming her and her parenting and the trauma of losing a dream for her child, I tried to make it better.
And I failed.
We talked later. We finished the conversation positively, openly, and her honesty allowed me a glimpse into a life that, for right now, I am not called to live. I am grateful to her. We talked the good and the bad. She graciously celebrated my children’s success even as she mourns that her child’s path will be much different.
I was humbled. And apologetic. And hopefully, I am better equipped for the next time. The next time that a mom crosses my path, bearing an unseen grief. On that day, I will try to remember today’s mistake. Guard my tongue. Come alongside, if only for a moment.
And celebrate. Her children. My children. The beauty of ashes and the value of suffering. Because every child is valuable, no matter how difficult their path. And every mom has her moments of grief. And sometimes we will each be the one who says entirely the wrong thing.
But hopefully next time, it won’t be me.
