"Giggles and Gentle Touches"

Recently, I attended a Bible study on the book of JOB. I had studied JOB before and always considered Job's friends to be failures as friends go. But during this study, I heard something different in the Scriptures. The first 7 days and 7 nights, the friends of Job tore their clothes, wept aloud, sprinkled dust on their heads, sat in silence on the ground with Job, no doubt rocking back and forth with Job in his tremendous grief. Yes, before they opened their mouths and began to say careless things, there were days when 'mourning with those who mourn' was the only right thing to do and they did it so very well. Let us do what is right first in light of the tragedies we have witnessed (the massacre in the Aurora, CO movie theatre). Let us first be willing to sit in silence with those who are grieving and to offer a gentle touch in their darkness. Perhaps intercessory prayers in our worship services would be a beginning and a way to allow us to do that. Spoken prayers and then periods of silence. There will come the time for other words and more vocal and active responses for change.  Today, allow me to share a moment 8 years ago, in a theatre, that changed my life forever. It is for this reason that I recognize the power of sitting with someone in mourning.

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. (Romans 12:15 NIV)

She and I were strangers. The only reason we sat next to each other was that our ticket stubs placed us together in the theatre that day. Before the play, we giggled and rejoiced over little things. We probably giggled just a little too much because I noticed that her mother glanced my way with a somewhat helpless look on her face as if to say, “Please don’t encourage her.” Then, with a simple question, the child’s rejoicing changed to a beautiful expression of mourning as best as this 6-year-old knew how to mourn. As the lights dimmed, a gentle touch was offered by a small hand. A gentle touch that will forever be felt.

There must be a name for moments such as these - holy moments when God whispers, “Listen and understand.” It was that day in the theatre when I was reminded that there aren’t always words needed for shared joy. Time spent listening, smiles offered, excitement and yes, even giggles shout, “I’m rejoicing with you” much more than words could ever express. There was a lot to be excited about that day. She was staying with her grandparents (who wouldn’t be excited about that?). I was beginning my vacation (yeah!). She looked at me and proudly proclaimed, “I’m a big sister! My baby brother is 2 months old.” As a big sister myself, I could share in her excitement. I pointed to my younger brother and said, “I’m a big sister, too. My baby brother is 45 years old!” (giggle-giggle). She asked, "Where is your Mommy.” I pointed to my mother and she pointed to hers. Her next question was inevitable and I answered before thinking through my words. “Where is your Daddy,” she asked. “My Daddy died 10 years ago,” I replied. Giggles stopped. Her response was simply, “Oh.” Why did I say that? Ten years ago might as well have been ten days ago in a 6-year-old’s mind. She sat quietly with her hands in her lap, looking at the stage. She climbed up on her knees to whisper in her mother’s ear and then sat down again. The music began. The house lights were turned down. It was then when I felt soft, gentle pats on my arm from this child who mourned for me in her own little way. She had wisdom and comfort in her mourning that often eludes adults. No words needed. Just to pat my arm for a while was enough - enough for us both.

God mingles holy rejoicing with our rejoicing and holy tears with our tears. It is a beautiful expression of agape’ love when we can do the same for others in such a pure and simple way. Giggles and gentle touches. God calls us to do both as we look into faces and hearts. Yes, God calls us to those moments of giggles and gentle touches. My little friend in the theatre knew that and because of her beautiful, sweet and simple expression of compassion, I now know this.