Come and Sit

Dave and I recently watched Lars and the Real Girl. I realize we are a little late to the game on this one but let me be one more person to say that this is a great movie and well worth your time. There is a scene in the movie that I’ve been continuing to think about. Tragedy strikes and a few older women come to be with Lars. “We came to sit,” one of the ladies explains. “That’s what people do when tragedy strikes -- they come and sit.” It’s hard for me to think about that line without getting a bit emotional. It seems very passive but it’s such a powerful act. In essence, we’ve come to sit with you, to be with you, to share in your suffering and not allow you to be alone in your pain.

I am reminded that this isn’t anything new, this “sitting”. In the book of Job, Job’s friends sat with him and it led to a very different result as his friends expanded their role from sitting to offering explanations to the cause of Job’s suffering, a surefire recipe for disaster. But it’s the last chapter of Job that intrigues me. Job is blessed double after his ordeal, which is usually where we end the story in a kind of “Job lived happily ever after” fashion. And yet, the writer makes mention immediately after this blessing that Job’s sisters and brothers and all who had known him came and ate with him, showed sympathy to him and comforted him. In spite of this tremendous blessing, Job still was in need of comfort and healing. Blessing does not erase the pain and suffering of loss, even if we are overjoyed at its arrival. The sitting is still necessary.

If I had watched Lars and the Real Girl five years ago I doubt this scene would have made much of an impression. In fact, I may have thought older church ladies bringing casseroles and knitting as pretty insignificant. But having been on the receiving end of such a grace as this, I think much differently. Now I’m struck by the power of an active and healing work that comes when people have the courage to sit in silence with the pain of those who suffer. It takes courage to be with those who grieve and to share with people in their darkest moments of anger and despair. To “come and sit” may be one of the most powerful modes of healing during those times when words inevitably fall short. This type of being with is anything but insignificant. If anything it is a gift of grace that transforms and renews over time.

So I sit here with feelings of gratitude for that shared space that becomes sacred when people are willing to come and sit; and thankful for those in our lives who have sat with us and allowed us to share the same story over and over again simply because “that’s what people do.”