Unsolicited Advice for the Young & Broken-Hearted

An accident in my hometown has my heart weeping this week. A 16-year-old boy fell from the bed of a pick-up truck -- no crazy driving, no drinking, no shenanigans -- and suffered such head trauma as to never wake up again. His family had to disconnect him from life support two days later.

In the truck bed with him was the son of my dear, darlin' friend from childhood. (We girls probably rode in the back of more than one truck together, as kids, and in plenty of backseats later.) In the cab were three more teenagers, all good kids from solid families... the kind who teach their babies responsibility and good manners and how to stand faithful in a broken world.

But Friday night the world won out. It stole a great kid -- a talented classical pianist, an ace baseball player, a truly kind boy with a bright future -- right from the arms of the many who love him. And it forever damaged the driver and the witnesses -- also shining stars in our town, the kind of kids everyone celebrates as they succeed -- who had to bear witness to a trauma, one of them working feverishly to keep his buddy alive.

I'm not close to any of these teens. I just "know" them in the way everyone in a small town is known. I know their family names. I know about where they live, or where their parents work. I love one of their mamas. And so my heart gets to break, too, just a little bit.

This is the beauty and agony of being known -- what hurts one of us has to hurt us all.

I sincerely grieve for the lost life. I don't think I have the words for that mother. She has my prayers, because I fear no greater human pain exists.

I do know her boy is not hurting today. In the same measure his family is bereft, he is free from all worldly weight. He has broken the chains and is -- I am confident -- in the company of Jesus.

His friends, though, are still here below. And what they must feel holds my heart in a grip like a long-held breath. I almost can't exhale when I think about those suffering kids.

Because I'm not part of their inner circle, I will probably never get to speak to these teenagers about this horrible, horrible accident. Other people closer will tell them, time and again, that it was an accident -- that no one is to blame. As we should all say! I believe their guilt is thick, and we should do everything we can to help cut through it.

If I did have the chance to tell them something, I would add this:

Don't be any stronger than you need to be.

If you look ahead and can't see how you'll ever make it out of these feelings, stop trying for a minute. Just stop -- really, literally, if you need to -- and tell God the truth: That you're giving up for the moment. That it hurts too much to keep moving ahead. No more steps. You stop. And right then God will become your pillar of smoke by day and your pillar of fire by night.

"Neither the pillar of cloud by day nor the pillar of fire by night left its place in front of the people." Exodus 13:22.

Imagine that pillar moving in the hallways at HHS and through the parking lot and down West Main... because it's really there.

Just like God guided the steps of his people when they wandered in the desert, so EVERY STEP you have to take in these painful days will be following a single step of God's, one pace ahead of you.

Just like God provided food for the wanderers, so you'll be fed along your way. But remember the story of the manna? When the people tried to hoard extra, it went bad. These kind of "survival rations" cannot be saved from day to day.

In the same way, go ahead and use up every bit of coping skills you have for today. Use it all until you are so weary you have to lay down and go to sleep. When you wake up, God will have sprinkled your soul with enough grace for tomorrow. Just enough. For one day at a time.

Please believe us grown-ups when we say the manna will come to you. Even when you don't feel it, or the roof of your mouth sticks with the dry taste of it. God DOES gives us what we need -- but we often can't see the relief coming.

Not many of us have lived through anything this bad, honestly. But most of us have felt our own deep hurts. Damage is damage, in some ways, and from someone who has survived soul-numbing sadness, here is one of pain's deepest truths: You only need to get through this day. Don't be stronger than this day. There is grace enough for this day AND NOT MORE.

Keep moving until you can't. Rest often. Look up for the pillar of smoke and the pillar of fire. And one day you will have crossed a great desert, my sweet young friends, and you will wander no more.