I have been following the Texas floods, as I’m sure so many people have as well. I read as a parent, as one going through grief, loss, and effects of trauma, but primarily as a human. It’s heart-breaking. I pray for the families who have lost someone regularly. I check the news when I can. I’ve cried, ached, and continued life, sometimes feeling guilty for continuing life because I know so many people’s lives have seemed to stop with their loved one’s death. What right do I have to live when their life has crashed? I’ve listened to the various ways people have dealt with their grief. I’ve been thinking of all they may be going through right now, knowing I won’t ever know their particular story.

And I do this from afar. I don’t know anyone affected by this horrible disaster. There is no one I can draw near to. I can’t sit in someone’s living room and weep with them as they reel from the reality of their loss. Sometimes, when horror strikes and we feel the weight of it, we also feel a sense of helplessness. Yes, we feel terrible and want to help, but have no idea how. What do we do? Can we help from a distance? Also, how do we let this tragedy shape us, instead of passing it over and thanking God it wasn’t our turn this time?

While I’m sure there are many more ways to help from a distance, here are seven ideas to get us started.

Pray.

Never underestimate the power and value of coming before the God who holds all things in his hands. It’s not only what we are asking him to do, however, but how God changes us through prayer. Yes, ask God for comfort and healing for the broken-hearted. Ask for him to provide all the resources people need. Ask for long-term help. I am also praying for redemption of the horror, for emotional support for the bereaved, for presence, for purpose in this time of suffering, for grief to be welcomed, felt, and received as the teacher it is. And we must not neglect bringing our questions, our pain, our anger to God. Mark Vroegop says in Dark Clouds Deep Mercy, page 28, “Throughout the Scriptures, lament gives voice to the strong emotions that believers feel because of suffering.” Now is a time to lament.

Help financially.

If you are in a position to give, there are multiple foundations started by the families of the little girls who died. There are so many heroes and organizations on the ground working toward relief and restoration. More than I could could list here. People are dealing with long-term effects and will need ongoing support. Consider finding and supporting an organization or group who has feet on the ground and doing good work.

Let your heart break.

In his novel, Theo of Golden, Allen Levi writes as the voice of Theo,

“My expertise in sadness is hard-earned. But I realize more and more that it is a gift. Living with sadness, accepting it, is easier than trying to pretend it isn’t there. It is another of life’s great mysteries that sadness and joy can coexist so compatibly with one another. In fact, I wonder if, on this side of heaven, either one can be complete without the other.” (pg 224)

This isn’t easy or popular, particularly in Christian circles, but it is absolutely in line with how Jesus responds to suffering. It is part of how humans look like God on this side of heaven. God draws near to the brokenhearted; Jesus mourned and lamented. Part of how God draws near to the hurting is through people who come near and weep tears along with them. We can believe with all our hearts that Romans 8:28 is true, that he will work all things (tragedy & trauma included) for good AND grieve that these people should not have died. When grief and sorrow hold hands with joy and hope, we get a clearer glimpse of God’s character. Together, this side of heaven, both of these are Christian. To isolate one from the other creates either a toxic positivity or a spiral of despair.

Some Christians object strongly to weeping, to the negative emotions, believing they are sinful. Or, perhaps, that feeling and expressing them may mean they don’t trust God or have weak faith. It’s an obstacle I am passionate about removing because it’s simply not true, and it keeps suffering people wounded and their faith weak. As Rob Moll says in The Art of Dying, pg, 139,

“Christianity does not shrink from death. It does not force a smile on the grieving. Christianity does not ignore death or say that it means nothing. Death is the last enemy, says Paul. It is evil, the greatest and most complete of evils. And if Christians are to know the greatness of Jesus Christ’s victory over death, they most know that death is evil.”

See people around you.

Consider the people in your part of the world. You may not be friends with the bereaved in Texas, but I guarantee you have grieving people in your circles. Let your heartbreak shape you so you may begin to see them, to know more of their story. Ask how their grief is doing. It doesn’t matter if it’s been three months or 30 years. It is always part of them and so rarely acknowledged well in our culture. Seeing their grief as part of them brings healing.

Learn to weep with those who weep.

I am fourteen months into my own traumatic season of cancer, deep grief and loss over the death of my mom. Through this time, I’ve begun building a library of books that have been a desperately needed resource in a culture that doesn’t know what to do with grief. If you were like me before Mom got sick, and don’t know how to help someone who is grieving, you’re not alone. The best way to start is to acknowledge that you don’t know, and begin to learn. Nancy Guthrie’s book, “What Grieving People Wish You Knew about What Really Helps (and What Really Hurts): about what really helps (and what really hurts)”, is a great place to start. Ed Welch’s book, “Someone I Know is Grieving” is also good. I’d also recommend Jennie Allen’s podcast “Made For This”, season 9, episode 8 with Bethany Barnard, titled “Grief & Unanswered Questions”. Tim Keller’s sermons, “Praying our Tears”, “Praying our Fears”, “Praying our Anger”, “Praying our Doubts” are great resources. Below are a few of the other books that have been a lifeline to me while grieving.

• A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis
• A Sacred Sorrow and The Hidden Face of God by Michael Card
• Beyond the Darkness by Clarissa Moll
• Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy by Mark Vroegop
• God’s Grace in your Suffering by David Powlison
• The Art of Dying by Rob Moll

Talk about death with your loved ones.

This is also an unpopular option, but a necessary and helpful one. As counterintuitive as it sounds, talking about and planning for death helps us live better. Ecclesiastes 7:1-2 says,

A good name is better than fine perfume,
    and the day of death better than the day of birth.
² It is better to go to a house of mourning
    than to go to a house of feasting,
for death is the destiny of everyone;
    the living should take this to heart.

We all have an expiration date, and we all don’t know when it is. It could be in utero, 110, or somewhere between. I’ve learned it is foolish to assume our death will be when we’re old and gray. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it is all too early. Make plans for your own death, and as far as you are able, know the plans of your loved ones. If you have kids, talk about it with them as appropriate. My mom’s death prompted our family to begin preparing for death in ways we had never seen the value of before. Now I know my 9-year-old wants to be buried in the same cemetery as my mom, my husband and me. My husband and I began work on our end-of-life wishes, wrote them down, and had conversations about them. We’re working to get both our names on all the bills. Fight the temptation to have a once-off conversation due to feeling uncomfortable, then never bringing it up again. If so, you’ve missed the value of planning for death. This is an ongoing process, and may change as people and circumstances change. If you don’t know where to start, cemeteries often have helpful literature to get you started (e.g. funeral service preferences, grave markers, etc.). And while a health directive is a great idea, when you’re in the moment at the hospital, in the ambulance or at home, no one is pulling out papers to check what the dying person wanted. This is one reason why it is crucial to have these conversations when your loved ones are healthy and lucid. In that moment when a decision is needed, the loved ones being prepared is a great gift. It is loving, honoring and helpful to all to prepare for death.

Hug loved ones.

I’ve heard this often on social media when the news about the Texas flood victims became public news. “Hug your loved ones tighter tonight.” Parents in particular could relate to sending a child to camp and never having them come home again. Yes and amen. Don’t take them for granted. And don’t stop there. Hug others who are hurting. They are someone’s loved one, too. Grieving people who receive comfort from the presence of another will then turn and comfort another later on. Perhaps, over time, our culture will shift from the avoidance and minimization of pain to being able to enter another’s pain as a sacred place. Perhaps the presence of God will be better known because brokenhearted people are experiencing his comfort through his people drawing close to them in grief. Perhaps, some day, there will be less bows, less toxic positivity, and more of the real comfort that only comes through feeling deep pain. Perhaps, one day, more of us will learn through our greatest pain of the greatest gift. Michael Card says about Job in A Sacred Sorrow, pg. 43, a man who knows what it is like to have everything and everyone dear swept away suddenly,

“The man of Torah obedience is forced to a painful place wherein he realizes that, though he might not have seen it by any other means, indeed he does love God for Himself and not simply as the source of all His blessings……..Without the pain, Job might never have realized either the depth nor the dimension of this kind of relationship with God, and perhaps never would we.”