Weep With Those Who Weep

What does it mean to “weep with those who weep?” Recently, I took a tumble. More than a tumble, really. I was entering my apartment building, which has several cement steps in front, and no guard rails. While approaching, suddenly and unexpectedly I was falling backward and had nothing to hold on to. Around six feet later, I bashed my head on the sidewalk, breaking my glasses, and gashing open my forehead to a bloody mess. I also injured my left hip, ribs, and hand.

No one was near, so I forced myself, hemorrhaging all the way, up two flights of stairs to my apartment to call 911. Not the planned beginning to a sunny and beautiful day. I am still not sure what caused the loss of balance so suddenly. Thankfully, though, after checking for brain bleeds, blood clots, and heart damage, I left the emergency room 10 hours later. At 65, or close, they check everything thoroughly. As an important aside, nearly one in three persons in my age group will experience a fall in their lifetime, according to the CDC. Many do not live from their injuries.

None of this is a complaint. I am thoroughly thankful that it was not worse and am beginning to heal. Ten stitches and a two-inch scar on my forehead too. Not fun, but certainly could have been worse indeed.

Why then am I telling all of this to the world? I learned some things during this adventure that I think is of value, and might help all of us do better when someone we care about is suffering. The rest of this piece is, then, to give some critical recommendations for when we face troubles not our own. May it bring sorely (pun intended) needed hints for what to do when your loved one, friend, or co-worker, needs your genuine empathy. Not pity, but for you to walk aside them.

No Joke

People say I take myself too seriously at times. That may be true. What happened to me was not particularly funny, though, and as a senior, I still mentally shudder while going downstairs since the fall. I mention this because, while most people were extremely kind and concerned, at least three immediately joked with me about the incident. St. Paul, in Romans 12:15, tells us to “weep with those who weep.” It never says to preach at them, give endless unsolicited advice (a little is probably okay), nor to make light of their plight.

I would contend that means more than technical crying, though. While it might be hilarious to watch the late Lucille Ball or John Ritter do backward acrobatics for laughs, the average person does not plummet for comedy purposes. If I were looking to amuse people, I would tell some clean jokes or make a face. I would not subject myself to a potentially life-threatening situation. Nor would most of the people who thought it was somehow humorous. Jokes may lighten the mood of the giver, but, particularly while going through painful moments, generally not the recipient.

I Had the Same Thing Happen To Me

Nearly 100 friends contacted me either via Facebook or other means, praying for and otherwise comforting me. At least one person, however, told me that he, too, had the same thing happen to him. Perhaps, it was similar, I do not know. But never the same. Was that person in the exact frame of mind or physical condition as me? Did he find out later that he may have broken a bone that went undetected in the ER? Or wait days to determine whether there was a hidden concussion, not detectable on hospital scanning equipment? Did he miss a week of work without pay while on an otherwise fixed income, and no sick time? If no to any of these, then it was not identical.

This lesson applies far beyond me, incidentally. If your aged aunt is telling you of her aches and pains, it may be that she is underreporting, and has something more serious going on. At very least, she may be simply frightened or need someone to listen, whether, in your estimation, she is exaggerating her discomfort or not. We do this while visiting someone in the hospital too. We assume they will be highly interested in hearing about our similar past pain at that moment. More often, though, the patient is so busy struggling to get through their own battle that hearing of your comparable situation only drains their needed energy further.

In other words, do not use someone else’s misfortune as a springboard to speak of your own. Try instead listening, with no unneeded commentary. Rub some salve, not salt, into the other person’s wound, even if it makes no rational sense to you. “Weep with those who weep.”

Glad You Are Better

Another well-intended comment is the above. The day after my ER visit, several people said this to me.  But I was not better, nor had I said I was. In fact, as said, several things developed later that were even larger concerns. Let me tell you if I am better or not. This is like asking a person “how are you?” and then not waiting for the answer. Better to not ask if you do not seriously wish to know. Conversely, once during another illness some years ago, one of my siblings simply came to my home, sat next to me, and we watched TV for a few hours. Not much talking. No stories of her ailments. Just company. That is “weeping with those who weep.”

I Will Call You Tomorrow

Several people told me that they would call me the next day, or at least soon, to see how I was doing. Other than immediate family, exactly one of those people even left a message. Worse, one person told me later that he had actually called. We forget that, on smartphones and other newer technology, it is easy to know who has dialed your number or not, even if they do not leave a message. He, to the best of my belief, did not call. Maybe he began to dial, and something happened which disconnected him, or he dialed a wrong number. But I am fairly sure not. If you say you are going to call or visit someone in need, do so. Otherwise, better to surprise them than to disappoint. “Weep with those who weep.”

Sounds Like I Am Whining After All

Maybe. I will hasten again to say that most of my friends and family were marvelous, and surprised me with how much they cared. A stranger sent me a check for groceries since I had not worked for a week due to the fall. Another friend sent me traction cleats for my shoes, knowing that the winters become icy and dangerous here. He didn’t want me to slip again. Dozens of people prayed, and they were not all Roman Catholic or even Christians. I will take prayers and other help wherever I can get them. All such actions were deeply appreciated and mostly unexpected.

Strangely, though, I tend to remember the ones who did not follow through. I freely admit I need to work on that one. My heart is grateful beyond words for those who, in actuality, chose to feel my pain. I leave room, too, for the ones who joked, told me their similar incidents, and who at least intended to make contact. All caring counts but holding a person’s hand, even virtually in this Covid19 era, and silently being there counts for a lot more. Apparently, Jesus thought so too.

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me (Matthew 25: 36-40 ).