I attended two funerals where I was blind-sided by the behavior of the people sitting at our table. I had always thought people would be at their best behavior at a gathering intended to honor and respect the person who had just passed, but not here. Why? I wanted to see.
The first funeral found me pretty raw and still grieving over the loss of my best lifelong friend. The funeral was for a co-worker of my husband. They had lost their young daughter. We found ourselves at the table with several people, one of whom was the best friend of the girl who had just passed. I told her I had just lost my friend too, and before we could talk about this, a woman at the table jumped in and began listing every loss and hardship she had experienced for the past 20 years.
The next person around jumped in and followed suit, and when they had finished their lists of losses and sorrows, I had to admit that we had a funeral pissing contest going on at our table. I had been skunked by these professional mourners. their hardships and suffering were way worse (And better rehearsed) than mine. I tried to figure out what this was. I now call it "the battle of the low ground." AKA rehearsing your list of troubles.
There are real hurts in people's hearts, and they need TLC and time. I have them, you have them, I won't minimize the pain of loss. These are the low places in your journey. How you handle these makes a difference for you going forward. Mainly, keep going forward. Don't stay there. Don't set up a memorial list of grievances, or they will own you.
In WW2 some troops were fighting over a piece of ground occupied by the Germans. They had tried long and hard and couldn't capture this piece. One day, they advanced again and easily routed the Germans and occupied. It was so easy. Command told their leader to follow immediately and capture the Germans while they were close, but their general lost his nerve and wanted to stay and hold the ground. It began raining heavily for days, then weeks, and they soon realized they had captured a piece of swamp land.
It was the rainy season. Soon the camp was a cesspool of muck, tents, horse manure and despair. It didn't let up for one hour and every man was soaked to the skin with no way to dry off. The horses were breaking their legs, hip deep in mud, and the men began to defect. The precious possession had now turned into a hopeless bog.
I thought of those ladies at the table with their razor-clear memories of loss and sorrow and sicknesses going back 20 years. How did they whip those out so skillfully? Why did they think that this teenage girl who had just lost her best friend needed to hear that? Why would you want to be the champion of the bad event contest? Had they made a choice to do this? Had they just accidentally become the list of things by holding onto them as precious possessions? Now, those events are more important than anything or anyone else, and a funeral is a place to show off the notches on your gun? I wound up giving these ladies the slip and having some time with this girl privately.
Funeral #2 Where the mean girls ran the show
As soon as I got in the vehicle with the honored friends of the widow, I knew I was in trouble. They seemed to have a more important status that I did. As we drove to the funeral home they began mocking my clothes and interrupting me when I tried to speak. In the lobby, my hand was pushed away so a more valuable friend could be seen walking the widow down the rows of people. At the lunch table, another important friend had gone out for fast food for all the friends that came to help. Oops, except not me. I was offered a french fry as a consolation prize. I refused it, holding onto my pride.
Really? Is a funeral a fashion show where you grapple to be seen as the most important friend? How could that be? I knew I was being given a message that I did not belong there, but I had loved the man who passed, and his widow. It mattered to me. I wanted to help however I could. I knew better than to get into it with them. Enough crap. I didn't want to start an argument over it. They were snipping and whispering, and I felt like they needed a spanking. But anything I did would escalate the strife. It reminded me of a trip to the nature preserve.
We brought a bunch of kids and dogs for a day by the river. One of dogs barfed. Another dog marked the barf, then another marked it for themself. An hour later as we played in the water, these dogs were still engaged in the battle of the barf. It's mine! No, I found it first!
Sometimes you can just tell that someone has some toxic stuff in them, and you can feel it when they blurb it onto you. If you try to hash this out in some form of defensive maneuver, you will get stuck in the swamp, and never find the high ground. Let go and keep moving. There are things there that you didn't know about and won't be able to fix today. Stay open to working things out in the future, but don't rally your forces to the low ground. If you stay too long, you may find that years have passed, and you are still fighting the battle of the barf.
There is higher ground, and you need to keep moving. Your map of past losses will not take you there. Take the list and give it to Jesus. Clear it out of your cache. Let him hold it for you. Start fresh from today. I write this from many years down the road. Lots of sorrows and losses have happened in my life since these funerals. I dare say, I might have a shot at being the bad event champion at some funeral, jumping on the table and taking dominion over all competitors. Why would I want to?
The definition of trust is "holding the heart open." Take your list of things out of your heart, one by one, and offer them up to God. You can't hold your heart open if it is the memorial to every wound you have ever experienced.
Psalm 139
O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me.
2Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.
3Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.
4For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether.
5Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me.
6Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it.
7Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
8If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.
9If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;
10Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.