Somebody I Know Is Grieving

It has been about five weeks.

You went to the funeral. You said the thing everybody says, and they said the thing everybody says back, and you shook a hand and left.

And since then, nothing. Not because you do not care. You have thought about that house at least once a day for five weeks.

It is that you do not know what to say, and every version you have rehearsed sounds either hollow or intrusive, and the longer it goes the worse the problem gets, because now there is also the five weeks to explain.

So you have got as far as the door twice in your head and neither time did your hand actually do anything.

And the thing you keep coming back to is that you could take something over. You can cook. That part is not the obstacle.

The obstacle is that you would have to say something when they opened the door, and you have no idea what.

So let me say the first thing plainly, before anything practical.

Nothing here is going to give you a sentence to say.

There is no correct thing and anybody offering one is selling something. What follows takes the opposite approach entirely, which is that a dish carried to a door is a complete act in itself and does not require a speech attached to it.

Weep with them that weep

There is a line in Romans about being alongside people, and what is striking is the absence of any instruction about speaking.

Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. (Romans 12:15, King James Version)

Weep with them that weep.

There is no content in that instruction. Nothing about what to say, nothing about explaining anything, no comfort to be offered and no meaning to be supplied.

It is entirely about location. Be where they are, doing what they are doing.

You are being asked for a location rather than a sentence, and a man with nothing to say has never once been disqualified from that instruction. Romans 12:15 asks for company rather than for words, and the Holy Spirit is the one present with somebody who has got as far as a door twice.

And notice the first half, which is usually read as the easy one.

Rejoice with them that do rejoice. The two halves have the same shape: be alongside, in whatever the state is. Neither one asks anybody to change the state they find, and neither one requires the visitor to have anything prepared.

You have one job that has no script in it, and an instruction with no content has never once been failed by somebody who arrived quietly. The Spirit of God is the one with a man who has thought about a house every day for five weeks, and Romans 12:15 gives the same shape to both halves and neither carries a speech.

What a dish at a door actually says

Here is the practical half, and it is one observation about what the food is doing.

A dish carried to a door is not an accompaniment to a conversation. It is the message. It says, in a form that needs no words: I know, and I thought about your evening meal, and I am somebody who is still here.

That is a complete communication. It is arguably a better one than anything you would have said, because the sentence you have been rehearsing would have been about your discomfort and the dish is entirely about their Tuesday.

You have a complete message that needs no words attached, and a dish carried to a door has never once required a speech to have said something. Romans 12:15 asks for presence and supplies no script at all, and the Holy Spirit is the one with a man who can cook and could not speak.

And here is the second half, which is the practical part and is worth knowing because almost nobody does. Do not knock and wait for a conversation. Say one true short thing and go.

Something like: I made too much of this, it freezes, I will get the dish another time. Then leave. That is it. No hovering on a step, no offering to come in, and no asking how they are, which is the question that puts a grieving person in the position of managing you.

And the five weeks do not need explaining. Nobody in that house has been counting. A grieving household experiences the whole period as one long undifferentiated thing, and a dish at five weeks lands better than one at five days, because at five days there were eleven of them.

You have a short sentence and a departure rather than a conversation to survive, and a thing left at a door has never once needed the visit that follows it. The Spirit of God is the one on that step with a man who is about to leave quickly, and Romans 12:15 puts the whole weight on being alongside rather than on explaining anything.

What this month is, at that door

So here is the assignment. Invite one person for one simple meal this month and cook the thing you can already make, or carry it to their door.

For this house, carry it. Make the thing you already make, the one that works, in a container nobody needs back. Then go over on an ordinary evening, not a Sunday, because Sundays are already full of people doing this.

Say the short thing. Then go.

You are carrying something ordinary rather than arriving with the right words, and a plain dish handed over at a door has never once been the wrong thing to bring. Romans 12:15 asks for the being alongside and nothing else, and the Holy Spirit is the one at that door with a man holding a container.

Then the part that does the work, and it is one instruction: do it again in three weeks. That is the whole of the difference between a gesture and a presence, and almost nobody does the second one, because the first one feels like the hard part and it is not.

Three weeks after a death a house is full. Eight weeks after, it is quiet, and everybody has gone back to their lives, which is exactly when somebody turning up with a dish stops being one of eleven and becomes the thing that gets remembered for years.

You are going twice rather than once, and a second dish three weeks later has never once been the smaller of the two. The Spirit of God is the one on that step the second time, and Romans 12:15 describes a way of being with people rather than an event.