Like many of you, I wish I was physically distancing on one of my favorite beaches on this Monday morning.  My usual walk includes grabbing a washed up piece of driftwood to carve in the sand.  
Each year, I begin with a beach retreat; I memorialize the new year with a guiding word, etched in the sand and my heart. This year in particular, I’ve added an extra word for this season: spur. 
I love that word, especially in the verb form; to urge, to encourage, to dig in your spur. 
Now, I’m no horsewoman, but I think gentle spurs are best used to reinforce cues for your horse to move forward.
So on this new week of pandemic loneliness, fear, uncertainty, I choose to spur...to dig in and gently encourage. My list of recipients grows; how about yours?

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Hebrews 10:24

June’s almost over and I’ve glanced at this encouragement  in my hallway way too many times this month. And buried my head in the Truth pages, repeatedly  reminding myself I’m not alone; He lifts my head, my wings. 
But LORD, this is hard stuff to navigate. I’ve searched healthcare plans, home improvements, technology, finances. Sometimes, I just want to hand it off, glance over for a reassuring nod, make a decision together. I want another breathing human being to read the instructions alongside me or simply huff in unison when there are no clearcut steps. Learning curves bend easier when traveling in pairs. 
Yet, lessons have been learned: it’s okay for me to say no to more responsibility because solo decision-making takes energy and time, I don’t need to beat myself for not helping others every time I see a need (survival is my full-time mission) and sometimes, I just have to climb out on the shaky, scary limb. I think that’s called, Trust. 

I've stared at this box for months. 

Today I will purge...organize...consolidate!

After managing to part with another bag of Rob's clothes and tackle a box of papers I'd brought home from his office, I'm ready to let go of some more of Rob. 

But, how do you place a lifetime in a couple of drawers?

My plan: With cup of cinnamon coffee and stash of Lorna Doones in hand, I will read each note written during his illness one more time, thank God for the sender and place only a few in the keep pile.

 Seriously, it's proving impossible to discard so much love!

Funny, how I read each card through a new lens. No more paralysis...no more blur. This time your words permeate and supply new and necessary strength.

This journey of grief may morph, but it still wears at my soul. 

The first prayer note I pick up is from dear Eddie Whittenberg. He recalls some fond memories of our friendship and ends with "Keep the faith!" I can hear his voice.

Janine Morrell recalls some words from our Bible study of Esther: "Christ is calling us all to something we will need courage to complete."

Personal words of affirmation... Rob, "You are a good man!" Allen Potter... Rob, "Your calm, confident, wise demeanor is always wrapped in warmth and welcome." Cyndi LeForce...Rob, "I've loved every moment of our friendship." Tom Trigger.

I could fill paragraph after paragraph with the kind words so many of you took the time to share. I'm reminded of a great man's legacy, but more importantly, of a greater, ever-present God. 

Somehow I've managed to whittle down this massive pile of love and corral it into a small, tidy box of powerful encouragement.

I'm sure I will need to visit it from time to time and one day my children will open it to find the rich love of the Church at its best.

There is power in a handwritten note!

Even a couple of personal thoughts bring encouragement on the darkest of days.

I will mostly treasure the memories you thoughtfully shared with us, the men who were not afraid to tell Rob that they loved him, and the written prayers covering the smallest details.

Seeking to learn from even this, I'm reminded that any lengthy wisdom, accounts of my past suffering and the normal chatter that fills most letters may be wasted on exhausted ears. Handmade preschool drawings heal better than articles outlining alternative therapies.

Yes, simple, life-giving notes keep on healing.

Keep them brief, personal, and real!

It's okay to address the elephant in the room when life looks short.

None of us understand the whys.

We are all sad.

We can't fix the mess. 

This may be the last time we have an earthly conversation.

Always err on the side of love!

Illustrator unknown

I packed a lot of lives with me when we left MD Anderson, along with hope for their recovery and remission...When I check their blogs or CaringBridge sites, I am quick to check the comments from others. What kind of support are they receiving? Words tell a lot. 

I cringe when I read about Aunt Susie's horrible side effects or see a link to some alternative treatment.

I hurt for my friends; they need love, not comments that will increase their anxiety, diminish their doctors' treatment plan and drain energy needed for their own beast.

As a result of her own cancer experience, Susan Silk developed a simple way to relate to others in crisis. The Ring Theory has served me well while comforting friends. 

Here are the rules. The person in the center ring can say anything she wants to anyone, anywhere. She can kvetch and complain and whine and moan and curse the heavens and say, "Life is unfair" and "Why me?" That's the one payoff for being in the center ring.

Everyone else can say those things too, but only to people in larger rings.

When you are talking to a person in a ring smaller than yours, someone closer to the center of the crisis, the goal is to help. Listening is often more helpful than talking. But if you're going to open your mouth, ask yourself if what you are about to say is likely to provide comfort and support. If it isn't, don't say it. Don't, for example, give advice. People who are suffering from trauma don't need advice. They need comfort and support. So say, "I'm sorry" or "This must really be hard for you" or "Can I bring you a pot roast?" Don't say, "You should hear what happened to me" or "Here's what I would do if I were you." And don't say, "This is really bringing me down." 

Susan Silk and Barry Goldman    For more info

Now for written comments...

Keep them short! Remember, you aren't the only one leaving a message and it takes great energy to read each one. 

If you are praying, share a few of the specifics.

If you want to help in a tangible way, ask about that one thing you know you can provide. "Let me know what I can do" forces your already exhausted friend to think!  

Never begin any communication with "I need." It becomes about you and heaps unnecessary guilt. "But I need to do something." "I need to hug your neck." Think them, just don't write them. Surely, there is a friend in a larger circle to whom you can share your needs.

Never begin a message with "You should." Again, don't give advice!

Keep your words positive, but don't promise something you can't guarantee, like "You'll beat this!" Statements like"You've got to fight this" sound encouraging, but ask yourself if you are the captain of this ship.   It's usually better to refrain offering comments about after-life. Period!

Yikes,after all that, should I write at all?  YES!  Our friends need to hear our love you's  and that they are present in our hearts and prayers. We just need to pour comfort in and dump far away from them.