How to give and receive

Intense, traumatic experiences pull stories and advice out of people. It's a mysterious force. While the advice and stories are still fresh, I thought I'd share the best of the advice we received with you.   (Names changed to protect the innocent.)

• Make a double batch. Marcy, our neighbor, shared that she will make a double batch of a meal - one for her family, another for the family who needs it.
• One word: therapy. Katherine, a friend who had an experience similar to ours. While she had sworn she would never go to therapy (she works as a social worker), the trauma she experienced caused her to reconsider her strict stance on therapy. Her husband also saw a therapist. The therapy gave each of them an opportunity to talk through and process the trauma that each had experienced.
• Be a yes man... Clayton, a friend who also had an experience like ours, recommended a month of live in help. At the very least, let people come and help and give them specific tasks. Keep it simple.
• ...but just say no to casserole. Jim, a former colleague, shared that his family continues to have a no casserole policy because his family received so many casseroles as meals following a death in the family. 

I would add this to the list: give your community an opportunity to help you through your trauma. The day that they transferred Sara out of ICU, I had a conversation with Alma, the mother of one of the Amish girls injured in an accident on the day of Graeme's birth. Eventually, it turned to the power of community to transcend the self and the tragedies we sometimes experience. Her community had helped her through many trials - births, injuries, and now through her daughter's accident. We agreed that community is a place where we both serve and are served, where we give and receive. Our experiences in ICU had taught each of us that it is much easier to give than to receive.

I chose to share our experience of Graeme's birth and Sara's challenges and recovery on Facebook, Twitter, and this blog because I could not keep all of the fear, anxiety, and uncertainty inside of me. I had to channel that energy into something useful. The response I received gave me comfort and strength, letting me know I was not alone. Every time I posted something new on Facebook, my phone chimed and buzzed dozens of times, like prayer candles flickering in church.

What have I learned from the past three weeks? Whenever someone is hurting, let that person know you care. No act is too small: whether it's cooking a meal, running a load of laundry, sending flowers, sending a text, or liking a Facebook post. We are not alone.