What to Do With WHY?
Once, when I had been struggling for quite a while in the swamp, and I finally believed I was on the cusp of crossing to the other side, arriving home, I heard the anguished cries of a tormented soul, screaming, "WHY? WHY ME?"
My annoyance and frustration were immediate. These swamp monsters, WHY and his cousin, WHY ME, were legendary, but for some reason, they had left me alone. I was always occupied with other grotesque beasts. I had, however, run into many others, like this man who were screaming their names, strangely trying to conjure the beasts, like they were asking for a battle. This fool was actually beckoning them when I was on the brink of reaching safety. The fog was dense, but I pushed my way through and found him. I didn’t need to deal with this, I was tired and wanted to get home.
"Stop!" I demanded. "We are almost there! Don't waste your energy. Don't you see you must be drawing them closer to you the more you scream out for them?"
He looked at me, blinked twice, then resumed his cries, "WHY? WHY ME?"
I was so frustrated. How often had I come upon these fools actually daring these hideous creatures to show their face. Neither WHY nor WHY me ever seemed to appear when I was around and I never seemed to be able to help these poor travelers keep moving, no matter how much I coaxed, no matter what I tried to explain. I could try to pull and tug them, to no avail. While my instincts were usually to stop and aid those I encountered on my journeys, I actively avoided these folks whenever possible.
When not in the swamp, however, In seminary and throughout my life I had actually enjoyed thinking about and studying the malevolent presence that lurks in the bogs darkest recesses. Contemplating the puzzle of “Why do bad things happen to good people, in a classroom vs. confronting WHY in the swamp, was more like playing Call of Duty on your couch as opposed to actually serving on the front lines of war where real life or death choices are made. I was able to ponder centuries of reflections as they have
plagued clerics and philosophers for generations. Libraries are filled with a plethora of perspectives from every corner of the earth, and bookstores full of self-help guides that endeavored to banish them with the magic of words. Those who claim to possess answers of great power often write eloquently, constructing ivory towers of wisdom. Yet, their treatises and tomes prove futile when needed most. When a weary swamp traveler reaches into their pocket for the weapon of words, it emerges wet and sodden, encrusted with mud, the pages rendered limp and fragmented, a far cry from the potent grenades they had hoped would forever vanquish these enemies.
Grappling with ultimate questions of purpose, power, and just what it means to be human is important work for us all, so I am not implying that there is never a time to wrestle, but it’s just best to do it on dry land.
Beware, however, of being a well-meaning individual who attempts to console a grieving mother with platitudes about God needing another angel in heaven or divine doors closing and windows opening. Such shallow explanations may leave her even more disheartened by a seemingly indifferent and even greedy deity that "needed" to take her precious child. Doesn’t God already have an abundance of angels, including Rafael, Gabriel, Moroney, and countless others, depending on one's faith tradition? And did the door need to be slammed so hard in her face? Perhaps this mother treasured the view from her front door and couldn't fathom settling for a new view from a window overlooking a garbage-filled alley.
I also must take a moment to mention my all-time favorite useless comment offered in love. When I am told, "God only gives us as much as we can bear,” the only response I can muster is, "Then pray for God to make me a bit weaker, so I can catch a break."
Have you ever put your foot in your mouth wen trying too hard to comfort someone?
The truth is, most people in the swamp, don't genuinely seek answers to these questions. The real reason they invoke the names of those slimy swamp cousins, is because, in the throes of raw grief, horrendous pain, and total terror, words fail to convey the torment consuming them. The words "Why" and "Why me" escape their lips not as genuine queries but as subconscious challenges to all that is holy, daring it to provide an answer capable of extinguishing the fires of their living hell. My advice: never, and I mean never, assume that anyone in pain truly desires an answer to this question, even in situations where the answer may seem clear.
Occasionally, while I was working as a palliative care chaplain, a patient or family member in the hospital would turn to me, searching for an explanation for their harsh reality. However, every attempt to share my understanding and help them navigate their faith and beliefs led to confusion and despair, leaving us more bereft than before. What should a well-meaning chaplain or friend do in such moments?
One day while visiting a patient in the hospital, I began to discern that part of the answer was to first acknowledge that I had no answer. My complete inability to justify their suffering might make me an ineffective theologian, but I wasn’t there to dazzle anyone with my brilliant philosophizing. I was a chaplain, who was there to address their spiritual distress, which meant truly listening to the lament. That day, for the first time, I heard the true question hidden under their question.
She was an older oncology patient who was told that there was no more treatment for her cancer. She shared her severe pain at that moment, waiting for pain medication. Her son had just left the room to prepare for her return home with hospice services. Tears streamed down her face as she cried, "Why? Why is this happening to me? I have so much living left to do. Why did God do this to me? It hurts so bad, not just my body, but my heart. It's wrong, it's not fair. Why? Why?"
As she sobbed, I felt helpless, inadequate. I had nothing to offer, and I felt so alone. I had tried so hard to find some expert, some mentor who could help me with these situations and they always let me down. I looked about her room, miserable for both of us, while I wondered, if I would ever be able to offer even the tiniest bit of comfort for those in this desperate place. Where would this answer come from?
Then I heard myself say, "I don't know why. Why is beyond my capacity, so I change the question. I don't ask Why God? Instead, I change the question to 'Where, where are you, God? Where are you right now when I need you?'"
She stared at me intently as I continued, "When I ask 'where,' I see God in the blanket
at the bottom of your bed, the prayer shawl your friend knitted for you. I see God in the petals of those flowers brought to your bedside by someone who loves you. I see God in your son, who isn't here because he's preparing his home to be by your side, no matter what comes next."
I swear to you, at that exact moment the nurse rushed in with the long-awaited pain relief. The patient looked at me with a rueful smile and laughed, "Here’s an angel! Definitely God!"
I recognized that when I heard the question as a lament rather than a battle cry, what I needed was always at hand. My job was to step into the swamp with them, listen and watch. When I did, the answer to “Where?” was always “HERE.”
I feel I can only truly explain this in swamp talk. So let’s return to where I met the fool who I believed was conjuring the malevolent monsters, holding me back from arriving home:
"Shut up!" I shouted. With each word, the air grew thicker around us. I took a deep breath, calmed my voice, and softly said, pointing toward the almost invisible shore, "Look, over here." He didn't hear me, so I kept shouting, waving my arms for his attention. "Here, here, HERE!"
I halted abruptly as I saw two green eyes gleaming through the fog. What had I conjured? Was this finally an encounter with the ultimate shadow I could not escape? Afraid to face the truth, I turned away from the glowing eyes, looking
down to see small puffs of smoke circling my legs above the water. The other traveler seemed to have these puffs around him as well. I reached down cautiously to touch the foggy smoke and realized it was solid. Warm and silky, not slimy, I picked one up and held it in front of me.
I was left speechless, for I was holding a... kitten? I brought it closer, feeling its soft purr against my cheek, this was certainly no monster, but also no weapon. I
picked up another kitten with my other hand, and they touched noses. It smelled like my grandmother's house after she had made a Georgia peach cobbler. What were kittens doing in the heart of the swamp? The fog lifted slightly, enough for me to dimly make out the outline of the bank where I was headed. The sweet kittens hopped out of my arms and playfully ran in the direction of the glowing green eyes, which now I could see belonged to their mother. She was a beautiful black cat with long, immaculately groomed fur. Her kittens had varied colors and gray, black, white, and a few with spots of an orangey sunrise hue. She watched over them attentively but not overly concerned as they frolicked. Our eyes met, and she directed her gaze toward my sobbing companion.
I was closer to him than I realized and said, "Look here." I gently took his hand and placed one of the puffs around him. He stopped crying, hugging the precious comfort balls. As he looked up with tear-streaked eyes, he said, "Wait, I'm not sure, but let's try going in this direction." He started walking, and the creatures around him turned toward the green eyes, which disappeared as the magnificent matriarch led her brood away from us.
It was then that I understood the glowing eyes were not part of any monster’s persona. No, they belonged to this spectacular swamp companion and her tiny babes that were so small, they could softly wiggle their way into even the most anguished heart. This mother cat’s name was HERE.
I began carrying the memory of HERE with me, hoping I would recognize an unexpected fluff ball for those I encountered in the hospital. Whenever the words "Why?" arose, I could feel the soft purr pointing me to something in the room or something they had said, shedding a glimmer of light in their dark despair.
Sometimes, even when the question went unasked, I felt the piercing green eyes on my back, and I would raise the subject. I remember being with a young couple who had traversed the entire country, with barely enough cash to cover gas and food. They found shelter on the way with virtual strangers they had met online through their gaming community to be by his father's bedside as life support was removed. They sat before me, fingers entwined in a sweet, silent gesture. When I asked if they were religious, they said no. Unable to contain myself, I explained my method of changing the “Why” to “Where”
for others. I told them that even though they did not ask, I wanted to share that I saw God in that moment, not only in the strangers who nourished and sustained them but more prominently, I said "right here," as I pointed to their joined hands.for others. I told them that even though they did not ask, I wanted to share that I saw God
As the son squeezed his girlfriend's hand and gazed into her eyes, he said, "Yeah, I think you are right. It's weird, even in the middle of this mess, for the
first time, I feel like there really is something or someone watching over me.” While I have a million stories like this, I must convey that it’s not always easy. I once encountered a devout evangelical Christian whose wife was on a ventilator and dying, despite all of the aggressive medical care the doctors had to offer. Always at her bedside, her husband prayed incessantly and thumbed through a Bible, whose pages were crinkled and stained from constant use over many years. "Why?" he would ask in broken English. "Why no miracle? I am praying and praying to God."
My standard explanation of "where" had no effect; he simply shook his head. "No, I am praying. I read the Bible over and over. Why no miracle?"
I sat with him, looking out the window on a gloomy day, the glass was covered in rain drops. In many places, they came together to form rivers streaking down the pane. As we sat together, listening to the ventilator's rhythm, I touched his Bible. My fingers tingled ever so slightly as they brushed the smooth, soft, worn leather of its cover. I quietly began, “There's a verse in here that says, 'Jesus wept.'” He nodded and I continued, “When I look out the window, all I can see are tears. I can't
answer your question, but when I look over there," I pointed to the window, "it makes me feel that Jesus weeps with you."
He hugged me and whispered, "Yes, yes, yes."
Over his shoulder, I saw the reflection of the green eyes, through the glass. It was then that I completely let go of my need to address WHY, while that may be someone else’s call, it was pretty irrelevant to mime. Watching for even the smallest, faintest evidence of HERE, was what I found most effective in illuminating a healing path home for myself or others. HERE could go anywhere and everywhere. I only needed to actively watch for her kittens disguised in our world as the tiniest cracks of light. I had to follow the breadcrumbs revealing their path, or listen for the soft purr of love, a faint, low rumble beneath the words of those I met.
I've often encountered skeptics questioning the veracity of my writing. "Did these events truly unfold, or are you just indulging in poetic storytelling?" To this, I unequivocally declare, "Yes!" While I've altered names and minor details to safeguard the privacy of those involved, and my hazy memory might occasionally blend in irrelevant facts, I have purposefully given you HERE’s name to help provide you with your own access. I will even share a few of the names of her kittens to help you recognize them. This list is far from complete because the ones who appear for you, are tailored to your needs at a certain time or place. Some of the ones I have personally encountered are CASSEROLE,
CHOCOLATE, and LAUGHTER (three of my favorites.) SONG is probably one of the sweetest when she shows up in the grocery store, shopping mall, or randomly on your phone when you didn’t choose her. Perhaps because they have a special connection due to their infancy, any kind of baby is often full of HERE’s magic. Human babies often channel the kitten named GIGGLES and the one called FINALLY SLEEPING SOUNDLY.
I do not presume to claim that HERE belongs to any particular deity, or even any higher power. I just know that she is. HERE doesn't provide clear-cut answers or premonitions of the future; her presence is often fleeting. To prove her existence, I suggest you stop reading, close your eyes, and whisper a single word: "Where?" Do so with open anticipation, and I guarantee that she will make herself known to you. For some, she might immediately manifest as a fleeting image, as a scene or memory flashes before they open their eyes. For others, the experience may appear in a random birdsong or a surprise email. The key is to ask and remain present, patient, and watchful, for she will, without a doubt, make her presence known.
How have your experienced HERE?
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