BY JACK HARRIS

HE WAS A WIDOW OF JUST A FEW weeks, and suddenly she was thrust into the stresses and pressures of a busy holiday season. Caring family and friends invited her to share the holidays with them. Not wishing to be alone, and needing to be surrounded by familiar voices, faces, and touches, she accepted in high anticipation of the support and lift she needed. After all, that's what holidays were for, wasn't it?

Writing after she returned home from being with family and friends, she said, "Christmas is over . . . and am I ever glad, because it was so much more difficult than I had ever dreamed it would be. So many thoughts. So many feelings. So many emotions swirled around me."

Revealing how she felt deep down inside, she went on to say, "Here I was surrounded by family and friends--people that I love and people that I know love me--but at times I felt like I was on the outside looking in. Everyone was celebrating, laughing, and enjoying the setting. And me? I was alone with my memories of him who no longer laughed or celebrated; and it seemed as though no one thought or cared that he was not in our circle this year for the first time. It was as if they felt they would be offending me even to mention his name."

The Healing Balm of Remembering
Early in my ministry a couple down the street who were not members of our church lost their teenage son in a farm accident. Periodically I stopped by to visit, but in my bungling way I avoided mentioning his name for fear of offending them or opening a painful wound. One day the mother said, "It is all right for you to talk about Paul. In fact, I wish you would. It would help me a lot."

So I learned to ask about his growing-up days, his hobbies, and his girlfriends; anything to get them talking about him. I found myself wishing they had taught me some practical things like that in college. It would have been better than all the hours I wasted on algebra that I never needed or used, or even Greek. Come to think of it, though, I have used Greek during my 40-plus years in ministry--and it was somewhat helpful both times.

Writing further about her feelings, this new widow said, "There seemed to be a wall of glass that separated me from them. No mention was made of my mate, no comments about how they missed him this Christmas, how they wished they could hear his laugh again or another of his jokes he loved to tell. I wondered who erected that wall of glass. Did I? Did they? A wall of glass . . . preventing dialog, preventing openness, and preventing heart-to-heart conversation--the needed salve for hurting hearts."

Then she said, "I wanted to find a hammer and swing that heavy thing right smack-dab into the contrived silence that was created by this emptiness and polite talk that so ably skirted our inner feelings and avoided precious memories. A huge part of me wanted to shout, 'Please, someone, anyone, let me hear you say his name. Please, someone, anyone, let me hear you share something you remember about him. Please, someone, anyone, tell me that you miss him too. Please, someone, anyone, won't you listen to my tears? Your laughter in my loneliness hurts my ears a little, but it hurts my heart a lot."

She went on to say, "We need to remember the hurting ones, the lonely ones, the ones whose smiles and laughter are safely hidden behind that glass wall. That way you won't know they are crying on the inside while they laugh on the outside. They retreat into the familiarity of their pain, their aloneness . . . their tears."

President Ronald Reagan, in his famous speech in Berlin, said for the ears of Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this Wall!" He was referring to the wall separating free Germany from Communist Germany. May I suggest that you find a hammer and break the glass wall that separates you from those who really need your support and your help? It is especially needed at this time of year.

Blessed Are Those Who Comfort
Let me suggest five things we can do to make life a little better in the days ahead for those who are hurting:

One. Drugstore greeting cards are helpful, at least to the companies who produce them. But a card with at least a little note, no matter how clear the handwriting, is more helpful than all the nice flowery poems printed inside. The cheer and the love is in what you personally contribute. Do you know where I put those other cards? You know, the ones that come in an envelope but with no personal message, just a hasty scrawled signature? You've got that right!

Two. A phone call carrying your familiar voice, your warmth, your laughter, is a jump start for them like no other. I remember calling a woman one evening during the holiday season as she sat in her home on the banks of the Columbia River in eastern Oregon. When I identified myself she said rather wistfully, "I have sat close to this phone all day, and yours is the first call I have had; and tomorrow is Christmas." Wrap up a Christmas present to some lonely person during the holiday season in the form of a phone call. Their Thanksgiving "Choplet" will gobble like it never has before, and their Christmas tree will break into song that will reach even those who are hard-of-hearing.

Three. Invite them into your home. Let them feel the warmth of friendship. No one wins while they play solitaire on a holiday at home. One of our happiest holidays was when we secured permission from the managers of an orphanage to take a carload of children into our home for the day. They beamed as they helped set the table. They giggled as they helped with the dishes. They hugged the little presents we wrapped for them. Then we took them for a ride to see the Christmas lights all around the city, and they stared in awe at the silent beauty of it all. But I will always remember with tears the loneliness their eyes expressed as we took them back. The message I got as their little arms wrapped around my neck seemed to say, "I wish you would keep me; I like it here."

Four. Buy a little notebook. Write in it the date of the death of someone special to you. A year later, two years later, three years later--as we do for birthdays and anniversaries--drop that person's loved one a note or make a phone call. Do something special to let them know that you too remember and that you still care. You will have a friend for life. Because, you see, they can tell you at the drop of a hat the day, the hour, and even many years later the exact time their loved one was called away. What does the notebook cost? Very little. How much time does it take? Minutes at most. What does it mean to them? You may never know until it happens to you.

Five. Somehow make room in your social circle for those who have had a significant loss in their lives. Invite them to come and enjoy your love and your joy. Let them get acquainted with your family and friends. They not only feel left out, they are left out, and it is cold out there.

In 1992 the Chinese government requested Adventist Health System/West to send a team of hospital administrators and medical personnel to do a series of talks in a weeklong seminar to medical personnel from hospitals across China. I was asked to present a paper entitled "Healing Through Kindness."

Prior to the weeklong seminar in the city of Suzhou, we visited hospitals in cities across the nation to observe their methods and procedures. We witnessed many procedures, from acupuncture to surgeries to various medical experiences and examinations. Two examples stuck out in my mind as we silently observed medical personnel going through their routine.

In one hospital we witnessed people who were being examined for various ailments. I remember seeing the patients lined up on crude benches waiting for their turn. One by one their name was called out over the loud public address system. They entered a very large room where many medical personnel were standing beside beds waiting for the next patient.

I watched a man treat three different people, two women and a man. When the examiner was finished with a patient, he just thumped them on the head. That was his signal that he was through with them. They got up and walked away. No comment from doctor or patient. It seemed as though it was a medical assembly line. So cold and indifferent.

On another occasion my wife and I visited a nursery. By our count there were two nurses and 47 babies. All the babies were crying. We smiled at the nurses, and they nodded their heads as if to say, "Come in and see the babies," which we gladly did.

I approached the closest one, a little girl. She lay there screaming and kicking like babies everywhere. Her little black-haired head rolled back and forth in the crib. Her little feet stroked the air with fervor. The grandfather in me made me reach down and touch her little face. Instantly, as if on cue, the precious little girl quit kicking and crying and looked up into my face. In just moments her face broke into a smile. I spoke to her in perfect English, and she smiled and kicked, also in English. Or is a touch and a smile the same in any language?

Holiday Magic
The holiday season is upon us. There are many among us for whom the holiday season is not a season of joy, but one of loneliness and emptiness. They are worth more than a thump on the head. Your touch and your smile have an element of magic. They may not be kicking and screaming, but they are waiting.

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Jack Harris is currently serving as president of the Retirees Association of the North American Division of Seventh-day Adventists.