Don’t believe your local FB gripe group, blathering endlessly about how awful people are. Tune out those horrible headlines, screeching on and on about how the world is going to hell in a hand basket.
Yes, there are vile people on this planet, terrible tragedies in our midst.
However, God made a world that can also be a beautiful, tender, caring ecosystem, where goodness and love pulse through networks of families and communities. A place where simple kindnesses and gentle gestures combine with loving acts and sacrificial gifts to create an interwoven system, delivering the very essence of life itself.
How do I know? We experienced it firsthand this week.
Chris and I teamed up the past 6 days to stand with two families as they were forced to face death. One family is a part of the inaugural community in our married life: what we call our “first church”, which involved 10 years in ministry and life meshed together. Those years in DFW included our first home, deep friendships, and where all three of the Hoover kids were born. Our pastor during that time suddenly on January 10th. Their family, including their 3 adult children and spouses, are so dear to us. They were compasses who pointed true north for us, setting the direction of our family. Her death leaves a huge hole in the lives of so many.
The other grieving family was our very own. Our beloved sister-in-law passed away only two days after our friend. My sister-in-law, Lori, lost a ruthless, cruel battle with ovarian cancer. She is the wife of Chris’ youngest brother. We loved Lori deeply. All of Lori’s precious family lives in a tight-knit farming community in rural Ohio.
One grieving family was shocked to the core by the sudden, untimely loss of their matriarch. The other family watched the cruel deterioration of a young life through an aggressive, ruthless cancer.
One family felt robbed of the opportunity to offer their utmost gratitude while she was alive, but were spared the terrible suffering of a terminal illness. The other family had the sacred space to speak their final goodbyes, but had to watch life being ripped away, one excruciating breath at a time.
There is no comparison in grief: both families are in deep pain, longing for one more glimpse or giggle, one more moment or meal. Or even just one more day. Now they (we) are walking away from the funerals to spend the days grieving the losses instead.
Because suffering and care go hand in hand, God built the grief process to exist in the context of community, in an ecosystem of care.
Hurting people being helped, sad people being seen.
This week Chris and I had front row seats to witness the Curry family and our own family being held and carried by ecosystems of care. We witnessed it and we contributed to it. Tiny acts, added up, creating an abundance of love in the same way small, isolated raindrops fill an empty stock pond.
You get to choose the kind of ecosystem surrounding you: one vibrantly pulsing with love and life or one of withering negativity and isolation.
When you begin to feel grumbly about the awfulness of people, serve someone. Lift those angry eyebrows and build your kindness muscles instead. Bake and deliver some cookies. Text a friend to check in. Mute that Facebook group and be kind to the fast food employee instead. If you have extra money, help someone pay for counseling. Buy a grieving family a Door Dash card. Invite a friend to lunch.
Big or small, human connection is how we heal. Let’s keep building ecosystems of care, okay?
