I spent a lot of yesterday on the phone with people who are experiencing crises. Most are facing surgeries, many of which are decidedly serious. Some have lost loved ones recently. Some are dealing with chronic illnesses. Others are facing difficult transitions or life choices. I cannot erase or undo that which is occurring in their lives. All that I have to offer are prayers and presence. That’s it. Just a reminder that someone cares and is, to some extent at least, present with them and for them as they make their journey.
That often feels inadequate, doesn’t it? Our words don’t seem like enough. “Just checking in to see how you’re doing …,” “Just wanted to touch base and see if you’re okay …,” “Don’t forget that I’m praying for you …,” “Let me know if I can do anything” (when down deep we feel sure there is nothing we really can do that will move the pieces on their chess board). How nice it would be to have the power to say, “I will cure your illness,” “I will eradicate your grief,” “I will resolve your financial adversity,” “I will reverse your age-related limitations,” “I will make it all better.” But, the best most of us can do is the least that we wish we could do: “You’re in my prayers …,” “I’m here if you need me.” Prayers and presence.
And yet, time after time, people thank us for that. No matter how inadequate our words may feel to us when we speak them, apparently they are important to those on the receiving end. It matters to know that our faith supports them when their own faith has grown weak. That our love is at least one ray of light that prevents everything around them from being swallowed up by darkness. That there is someone in their corner, someone they can trust not to abandon them, someone to lean on in order to keep from falling.
This weekend I thanked a couple for a personal favor, and the wife answered, “It’s the least we could do.” It didn’t seem “least” to me. What they had done was timely and helpful, genuinely important in my life. And just because they underestimated the significance of their act of kindness did not mean that the act was small or irrelevant. It certainly was not to me. Maybe sometimes to somebody else “the least we can do” is, in fact, the best that could have been done at that moment. What seems small to me may feel monumental to another.
So, just keep being there for people. Remind them, when their own prayers are bouncing off the ceiling, that you are praying on their behalf. Don’t let them forget that you are near if needed. And sometimes the need will simply be for a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. We are neither expected nor equipped to solve everyone’s problems. But, we can keep them from facing those problems alone. Prayer and presence. It’s “the least we can do” and sometimes “the best we can do” all rolled into one.