You Can't (Completely) Judge a Book By Its Cover

You Never Know Until You Try.

I went to a funeral yesterday. A dear man from church, Mr. R., died last week, almost 6 years to the day after my husband's death. When I went to the house Mr. R. shared with his wife of 31 years, the scene was much what I expected: lots of family members and friends had stopped by to extend condolences. I also knew that even in her grief, Mr. R's widow would be calm and upbeat. She's waged a battle with cancer for several years now and has yet to give in to self-pity.

She's a lot like my late husband, who had faith that would put most people's to shame. I wish I were more like that, but even though I trust completely trust God to have my best interests at heart, I'm still a "Type A" who worries more than I should. Like most people, I just don't like to hurt, and many of life's experiences are painful.

Before I left, I spoke with Mrs. R's daughter, "M," and told her to call me if she needed to talk. I said I know people often say that but that I meant it, partly because I've been there and know what it's like. "M" said that I've done very well these last 6 years and commented on my "strength."

I've heard that one before, and to a certain extent, it's true. I thanked "M" and said that lots of times over these 6 years, appearances have been deceiving--that I may have been holding it together on the outside, but inside I was screaming. I said that was my concern with her mom; that even though I know she's strong and has tremendous faith in God, that being human she still has normal fears and pain.

I told "M" that I've spent many hours literally yelling at God and feeling like I was losing my mind, and that it meant the world to me when people dug a little deeper, looking beneath my facade to the wounded animal inside. Those times, it helped to just talk about how angry, or scared, or lonely, or any number of negative emotions I was. "M" responded that she, too, had been like that--able to "soldier on" despite feeling like she were on the verge of "losing it."

I suspect that most people can relate. Part of it is that we don't want to seem too whiny or out of control. The great American "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" mentality. I think we're also aware that at any given time everyone has some issue going on. As much as we might want to be there for others, most of us are swimming, nearly drowning, in our own issues. Yet it's when we encounter someone willing to take time out of their lives to delve beneath our surface "I'm fine"'s and we let our guard down and really share our heartache, that we feel better. The situation may not change, but we feel less alone in the midst of it. At least that's how it's been with me.

That's the refresher lesson I had recently--look beneath the surface and try to really connect with someone in pain, because that's what means the world to me for others to do when I'm hurting. It's a cliche', but it's true: you really can't (completely) judge a book by its cover.

When I finish at the computer, I'm going to call Mrs. R. and "M" as I promised to do. Is there a phone call you need to make? Maybe you need to reach out to someone in pain, or you're in pain yourself. Either way, please pick up the phone and dial.