Paying the Love Tax
When my daughter was little, she loved to play make believe, and I loved eavesdropping on her pretend world. But there was one thing that always startled me about her world-building endeavours: she always took me and her dad out of it.
Her games would begin with: “Okay, so we need to get some food because Mom and Dad are dead.” Or “It sucks living in the attic because we’re orphans.” Or (slightly better) “All the grown-ups have been kidnapped! What should we do?”
Later I realized all Kid-Lit and children’s movies share this one commonality. In fiction, kids are alone and must navigate the universe by themselves. (Think Harry Potter, Anne of Green Gables, etc.) Kids internalize the potential for disaster and try to fantasize a way around it. It's fascinating until the world of make-believe collides with reality. As occurred this week in our corner of the world.
For one family, there was a celebration of life with dancing and music. For the other, there was no obituary to mark the end of a man’s days. Yet in both families, children are crying for their dads, gone too soon.
I learned about the ring theory several years ago, and it has given me a helpful framework for understanding what NOT to say or do when tragedy strikes. Very much worth a read!
I’m not in the inner circle (see above) of these families, but my heart is breaking for their loss. Grief is the price we pay for love, but of course when and where we pay this 'love tax' is what makes our stories unique.
There’s this support group I’ve been a part of for the past six years. I thought of them this week when I read a friend's comment on Facebook railing against the unfairness of life. "Screw you universe!" she wrote. I could feel the intensity of raw grief and rage. I wanted to reach through the screen and offer comfort, and I wondered what my group would say.
You see, these people I meet with each week are experts not-by-choice in navigating grief. I wonder how it’s possible that so many people I love have lost their moms, babies, finances, dreams or health. They have survived catastrophic loss. I sometimes think, “Wow, this community has really been f#@$% by the universe.” And sometimes I suppose they feel that way, too, but they don’t use those words, because my support group is actually a church, and we concentrate on other f-words there, like faith.
A couple years ago, one of my close friends lost her full-term baby. She and her husband have written about it a few times over the years and what has pulled me closer to them goes back to the first moments of their personal tragedy, when my friend realized her daughter wasn't crying, and yelled into the sterile operating room: “God is Sovereign!” When I heard her reaction, I was dumbstruck. I didn’t understand why she didn’t yell, “Screw you universe!”
Because I am a person who believes in God and has a delusional sense of how much power and control I have in my own life, tragedy always feels like such a monkey wrench. Sudden death by embolism or desperation doesn’t make sense. I want to believe God is in control, but I don’t get how or why these things happen. Lacking solid answers, I gravitate towards people who have suffered adversity. Their strength inspires me. When friends who are sobbing, wipe their eyes and say, "nothing is wasted", I want to believe it's true. I hope their grit rubs off somehow by osmosis, like armour I can put on at a later date when I’m in the centre of the ring and have to pay the 'love tax' in full. And I know that nothing can prepare me for the actual trauma of loss when it comes and that I’m a fool for thinking that my plan will work. But I’m not just looking for good advice. I’m looking for good news. And I think there are a few people out there who have some wisdom to offer on both counts.
This inspiring lady pastors a church on the mountain and shows up all the time with grace and humility. When she doesn't, she blogs about it. And she has a lot of wise words about the ways grief shapes us.
My friend Sara is a writer and disabilities advocate in the Niagara region. She speaks and writes eloquently on faith, parenting and the daily battle to find joy in all things in the midst of living grief. (Check out more here)
Finally, there's Jerry Sittser. "A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss" , is a chronicle of the traumatic loss of Sittser's wife, mother and daughter killed by a drunk driver and his unwitting entry into the world of the suffering. The book is the story of picking up the pieces to raise his three remaining children. In one particularly vivid image, Sittser compares the loss of his family to a tree that has been cut down.
“[Loss felt like] the stump of a huge tree that had just been cut down in my backyard. That stump, which sat all alone, kept reminding me of the beloved tree that I had lost. I could think of nothing but that tree. Every time I looked out the window, all I could see was that stump. Eventually, however, I decided to do something about it. I landscaped my backyard, reclaimed it once again as my own. I decided to keep the stump there, since it was too big and too precious to remove. Instead of getting rid of it, I worked around it. I planted shrubs, trees, flowers and grass. I laid out a brick pathway and built two benches. Then I watched everything grow. Now, three years later, the stump remains; still reminding me of the beloved tree I lost. But the stump is surrounded by a beautiful garden of blooming flowers and growing trees and lush grass. Likewise, the sorrow I feel remains, but I have tried to create a landscape around the loss so that what was once ugly is now an integral part of a larger, lovely whole.”
Here’s what I know. When people are in the centre of the ring, they might cry out, “Screw the universe!” or, “God is Sovereign!” From the periphery, I don't have the authority to weigh in as an expert but I have noticed how people who are in pain cherish those who can truly sit with them in their misery. So I’m trying to learn how to sit, to be a better friend, to help others with their 'taxes'.
If you’ve been saying “Screw the universe” for years and it’s not getting any better, see if you can't find a support group, too. Those who've been paying the 'love tax' for a long time see the weeds in the world, all the things that are backwards and wrong – like the untimely death of a loved one–, and yet still cling to hope and beauty and the promise that all things will be made new. Find these people. They will help you find your way again, point you to the Creator and carry you through whatever darkness you are experiencing.
I'm sorry for your losses friends.
Shalom
New Hope Church, in partnership with Arocha, cares for this little spit of land between the highway and the steel mills. We've spent a few Sundays over the years ripping out invasive species and planting trees. It's not your typical support group, but it's one way to see hope this side of heaven. Join us this spring for our annual outing. Date t.b.a