I’m reading a book right now called Tattoos on the Heart by Gregory Boyle. It’s about a Catholic Priest who works with gang members in Los Angeles. It’s all about his amazing acts of compassion for people. He tells a story about a young boy who decided to take his own life and how he had to go and deliver the news to his brother who was in rehab for substance abuse. Here is a portion of what he writes:
“Emily Dickinson writes, ‘Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, that sings the song without the words and never stops at all.’ I’ve come to trust the value of simply showing up--and singing the song without the words. And yet, each time I find myself sitting with the pain that folks carry, I’m overwhelmed with my own inability to do much more than stand in awe, dumbstruck by the sheer size of the burden--more than I’ve ever been asked to carry.”
This really resonated with me. I feel this way so often as a Chaplain. At each scene I respond to, the pain is extremely fresh and it can be so intense. One of the big roles that I play is to respond to scenes when there has been a death. I remain with the family while the officers are conducting their investigation and processing the scene. It’s a difficult, but certainly rewarding role to fill. It’s a privilege to be invited into the moment of crisis and to offer hope that will continue on long after I’ve left the scene. It’s a hope that is much bigger than assuming that I have the “right” thing to say. This job has certainly taught me that there aren’t really “right” words to say that will make the situation any better. That sometimes there aren’t even words to be said at all and to be ok with that.
One night I got called out to a scene of a suicide. I didn’t know many details as I headed to the home, but knew that I would get filled in when I arrived. Upon arrival I learned that it was an officer’s mother and that the officer was the one to come home and find her. My heart instantly broke for the officer and the family. As I put more details together I realized that the officer was related to a former student of mine and that I actually knew the woman who had taken her life that afternoon. I knew I was walking into something very real and very painful.
As I went into the apartment, that was exactly what I experienced. The family was there and the silence was the kind that you could feel. It was filled with numerous emotions and I imagine thoughts were all over the map. This was the first time that I felt very unsure of what to do at a scene. No training I had prior to this prepared me for this moment. I wanted so badly to be able to take the pain away or to have something to say that could make everyone feel better, but that couldn’t be done. There was no easy fix. Forcing conversation too much would probably have made the family feel awkward and stressed them out more. An occasional hand on the shoulder was ok, but too much touch was not appropriate in the situation either. This was not a textbook answer, follow the formula kind of moment.
As I stood by the door I could see my former student curled up on the couch by his dad. I saw one of the sons sitting at the dining room table staring off in silence. I saw the other brother leaning on the couch and staring at the floor in front of him. The burden each of these men was carrying was so large and my heart hurt so deeply for them. When I read the paragraph in the book this is the moment that I was instantly taken back to. As I was there I could only hope that I was a reminder of the hope that was already existent in all of them. I had to trust that in simply showing up God was moving through me and in each of the family members.
I had some opportunities to talk to members of the family, but after the few words were exchanged the silence took over the room again. As I always do I remained on scene throughout the Medical Examiner’s investigation and the removal of the body. After these things took place and other friends and family had arrived, I knew it was an appropriate time for me to go. They were surrounded by family and friends and in good hands. I gave hugs to the family and reminded them that I was available for anything they might need. I apologetically told the sergeant and the lieutenant on the scene that I didn’t feel like I had done much and to call me back out if I could be of any more help. They both reinforced the power of simply showing up and the impact that it would have. That was a valuable lesson for me to learn that night.
There is great power in being fully present to someone in crisis, well really it’s powerful in any situation. It is a gift to offer your time and availability to someone who might not know what they need or when they might need it. Simply showing up is a stronger way to show care and concern than any perfectly orchestrated words to be shared. Someone has done it for each of us and it mattered greatly. When opportunity arises we need to be ready to pay that forward. Don't be afraid that you won't know what to say or do. Just by showing up you have already done the right thing. The rest will fall into place.
And to take a moment to brag on the officers that worked the scene. It had to be difficult to work a scene that was so painful for one of their own. After they finished collecting everything that they needed from the scene, they began to clean. They found products to clean the bathroom and put items in the washing machine that would have been a very vivid reminder of the loss they just experienced. They did anything they could to make something so difficult a little easier on the family. It was beautiful to watch.
I know this won't be the last time that I'm on a difficult scene like this. In fact, I imagine it will be a lot of what my time at the department consists of. I hope and pray that God continues to remind me to show up and trust that God is already there when I arrive.