Things have become so divided and tense that we no longer offer people any grace or understanding. To move forward, that has to change.

Pray

Dear God,
help us to reclaim our sense of compassion for others,
even when we find it difficult to do so.
May we treat our brothers and sisters
as we would wish to be treated.
You created each of us in your image,
thus making everyone worthy of our love and compassion.
Amen.

Act

When dealing with a situation that is frustrating you or that you don’t understand, stop for a moment and put yourself in the other person’s shoes. Try to see the situation from his or her perspective.

It’s understandable. Thanks to social media and around-the-clock news, we’re hyperaware of every little thing that happens. When facing something tragic, we know we want to say something. But what? Responding to each situation with a well-thought-out and sincere reply would take quite a bit of time. And what would we say anyway that would make the situation less difficult? 

So we go the thoughts-and-prayers route. It’s fast. It’s easy. It’s all-encompassing. Thoughts and prayers provide us with something—anything—to say when we know we want to say something but don’t know exactly what that something is. So we type out the words again: “You’re in my thoughts and prayers,” or “I’m keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.” 

And then, because of this fast-paced world bringing us all these situations, we move on. We mentally check off that we’ve done what we should or could. Our thoughts and prayers are put in reserve until we’re faced with the next tragic situation or social media post. 

The Next Steps 

I am in no way downplaying the importance of expressing our concern for people and troubling situations when we learn about them. Letting people know that we are thinking and praying for them in a time of need is important. 

But it’s the follow-through where I think we drop the ball. Behind these posts are real issues that do not disappear with just thoughts and prayers. For instance, in the aftermath of a death—no matter the manner—there is a void left behind for someone. What do we do with that? 

More than Just Words 

We need to take the next step. For instance, I have a co-worker who has a list of all the people for whom she has promised to pray, and she shares it with the rest of our staff every morning when we gather for prayer. It is an ongoing reminder to all of us to pray for those in need. 

What if we took those prayers one step further? If you know the person/people for whom you have offered thoughts and prayers, follow up with them. Calling or sending a quick text or email to say, “I’m just checking in to see how you’re doing,” can go a long way. 

Or you could take action. Make a donation to an organization that is somehow related to the situations you are praying for. Or work to enact change regarding situations on a larger scale, such as school-related violence or mental health issues. You can do so by making your voice heard. That might be by voting, taking part in rallies, or writing letters to people in leadership roles. 

Whatever it is, do it. We’ve got plenty of thoughts and prayers floating out there. The question is, how do we put them into something more concrete? Because apparently what we’re doing now doesn’t seem to be working.

A sticky note containing this quote by Anne Lamott hangs on the wall just under my computer screen, where it is always in my sight. Yet, even with seeing it every day, it still hasn’t sunk in for me. Well, the first part has. That’s my go-to when my computer, phone, cable box, or any electronic product doesn’t work the way it should—unplug, reboot, refresh. 

It’s the second part—the part after the comma—that I can’t seem to grasp. And, apparently, I’m not alone. According to a recent Pew survey, fewer than half of American workers take all of their vacation days. I am not at all surprised. 

But even if we do, chances are work and other life responsibilities are not far from our minds. I say that from my own personal experience. 

A Failed Attempt 

Recently, my family packed up our van and headed to the beach for a brief getaway. It was a much-needed break. Life had grown hectic and stressful for all of us—work, school, college decisions, etc. 

One morning, I rose early and made my way down to the beach for a walk. Eventually, I sat down on the sand with every intention of just breathing in the salty air of the ocean and listening to the waves. The sun was shining and beginning to warm the sand. I thought I might be able to find a little bit of peace and serenity. 

But after I sat down, I found my mind running through all of the things on my to-do list that awaited me back home. I wondered how much this break would set me back—both at work and at home. I wished I had either my phone or a pen and paper to capture the tasks flooding my brain. The list started to seem insurmountable, and I was right back to the place that had spurred this getaway in the first place. It got to a point where, for a moment, I could no longer even hear the sounds of the waves crashing. 

As I tried to regain my focus on the present moment, this column began to formulate in my head. Now, to be fair, being a writer means you are on call 24/7. You are at the mercy of your creative mind, and inspiration and insight can show up at any time, vacation days or sleep be damned. Usually, that’s not a problem. But it becomes one when it is buried under a mound of other things already calling your name. 

Not Alone 

But I’m not alone in feeling like this. I have had numerous discussions with friends and family about their need/want to unplug and step off the merry-go-round of life, even if just for a moment. And the Pew research I mentioned before supports that with cold, hard facts. 

The question is, though, what are we going to do about it? We all know the way we’re living is not sustainable, right? We should follow the lead of our technological companions and unplug, reboot, and refresh—even just for a few minutes. Everything seems to work better after that. 

I now had years’ worth of stuff, including three full sets of china in the attic, three generations of photos and albums, an abundance of pots and pans and other cooking supplies, holiday decorations, including three Nativity sets, and more. I struggled with making decisions about things that meant something to my parents but didn’t necessarily to me. My sisters helped when they could, but they faced the same conundrum: Do we keep these things just because they were Mom and Dad’s? 

Now, before you start to think that my parents had an overabundance of useless stuff, don’t. Their possessions were the result of a life fully and well lived. Take a moment to stop and think about all the things you have in your house—things that are meaningful to you and that you want to be surrounded by. They bring you joy. 

At times, I found myself holding on to my parents’ things . . . just because. Because I felt guilty. Because I thought maybe I’d find a way to fit them into my family’s life. Because I felt like, “Who am I to decide what stays and what goes?” It was a heavy load to bear. 

The Flip Side 

Suddenly, I found myself looking at my own things very differently. The same critical eye I was developing concerning my parents’ stuff started to creep into my life. And not in a good way. 

For example, the trophy my daughter won in her soccer tournament became one more thing that, at some point, someone will have to get rid of. Sure, there is the chance that she will want to proudly display her sixth-grade soccer trophy in her home one day, but my gut says I doubt it. Everything became, in my mind, just one more thing that at some point would have to be donated, discarded, or stored. 

It became, for me, an extreme form of Swedish death cleaning, where you go through all your stuff and pare it down, so your family or friends don’t have to. I didn’t want my kids to have to go through these things and make tough decisions about them. I knew the weight doing so brought with it. Each time I would do some normal decluttering, I would ask myself, “Is this something one of my kids would want or are they just going to throw it out?” If I thought they wouldn’t want it, it went. 

Both/And 

After I lamented how I should never have had my first half-marathon shirt and medal framed, my husband, Mark, offered a bit of advice. He said that if I got rid of everything, I wouldn’t be surrounded by anything that I loved or cherished. And he was right. 

I will never be able to completely spare my kids from having to go through some of our stuff. In the meantime, though, I’ll attempt to walk the line between keeping too much and keeping too little, helping them along the way when I can.

I remember walking into the cafeteria that morning with money in my hand. I was going to repay a classmate who had loaned me money at lunchtime the day before. I looked around for her and then began asking if anyone had seen her yet. No one had, even though classes were about to start. 

I noticed that it looked as if a game of telephone was making its way through the area where all the freshmen were sitting. One person leaned over to the next, and on it went. Some people began crying while others stood with a look of disbelief on their faces. I wondered what was going on. 

Eventually, the news made its way to me and my group of friends. We learned that our classmate, the one I had been looking for, had died by suicide that very morning. We were all stunned. How could this happen to someone our age? Death was for older people, not us. 

We spent the day in a haze of emotions—sorrow, confusion, disbelief, even anger for some. 

A Haunting Reality 

So why am I telling this story? It’s to show that suicide deeply affects everyone it touches—even peripherally and years later. As a parent, I worry about a lot of things when it comes to my kids. One thing that I’m most aware of is their mental health. Ask any teenager how he or she is doing, and chances are you will receive the standard answer of “I’m fine,” leaving us parents to search for clues and insights. 

Things such as COVID-19 and its isolation, social media, bullying, school—and what lies beyond that—are weighing down our kids. I’m not saying that there haven’t been stressors on previous generations, but the numbers show that right now there is something to be concerned about. 

Behind the Numbers 

According to the National Alliance of Mental Illness (NAMI), suicide is the second leading cause of death among people aged 15–24. Also, nearly 20 percent of high school students report serious thoughts of suicide, and 9 percent have made an attempt to take their lives. While those statistics might vary slightly depending on which research source you’re reading, they all reach the same conclusion: Suicide is a real problem. 

Those numbers are startling. While they are important for providing awareness and information, they are not the true story. The true story is that behind each one of those numbers is someone’s child, someone’s sibling, someone’s friend, someone’s classmate. Those numbers represent someone who is dearly missed. 

If you or someone you know is in crisis, call or text the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988. You can also contact the Crisis Text Line (text HELLO to 741741). Both services provide 24-hour, confidential support to anyone in suicidal crisis or emotional distress.

However, we shouldn’t make healthy choices just so we can take care of other people. God created us in his image, and that gift deserves to be cared for and respected. St. Paul reminds us that our bodies are not our own. Jesus paid for them with his life so that at the end of the world, those bodies will resurrect and join him in heaven.

—from St. Anthony Messenger‘s “Faith and Family: Feeding Your Body, Mind, and Spirit“
by Susan Hines-Brigger