A reminder on how to be a better comforter

In 1980, at the age of 32, Linda Mae Richardson was diagnosed with malignant melanoma which had already metastasized into her lymph system. Her doctors indicated that her prognosis was very poor.

During the next year, her husband, two sons (ages 9 and 11), family, and friends rallied to support her as she had two surgeries removing 50 malignant lymph nodes, followed by chemotherapy and cobalt radiation treatments.

Linda had begun writing poems at the age of eleven when her close friend, also eleven, died after a long illness with leukemia. And now, 21 years later, after completing her own cancer treatment program, Linda continued to write, only this time it was about her personal experience with the dreaded disease.

When I spoke at the Victory in the Valley Cancer Survivor's Conference last month, I met Linda. Seated at the same table before one of our meals, several of us began discussing mistakes made when relatives and friends, all well-meaning, do more damage than good in their attempt to offer comfort. It was then that Linda showed me a poem she had written. With her permission, I would like to share it with you now.

COMFORTERS

When I Was Diagnosed With Cancer:

My first friend came and expressed his shock by saying,

"I can't believe that you have cancer.

I always thought you were so active and healthy."

He left and I felt alienated and somehow very different.

My second friend came and brought me information

About different treatments being used for cancer. He said,

"Whatever you do, don't take chemotherapy. It's a poison!"

He left and I felt scared and confused.

My third friend came and tried to answer my "Whys?"

With the statement,

"Perhaps God is disciplining you for some sin in your life."

He left and I felt guilty.

My fourth friend came and told me,

"If your faith is just great enough God will heal you."

He left and I felt my faith must be inadequate.

My fifth friend came and told me to remember that,

"All things work together for good."

He left and I felt angry.

My sixth friend never came at all.

I felt sad and alone.

My seventh friend came and held my hand and said,

"I care. I'm here. I want to help you through this."

He left and I felt loved.

If you, like I, feel inadequate when called to offer comfort to someone who is hurting, this poem should be a poignant reminder of what is truly important. It's not having all the answers. And it's certainly not doing or saying Nothing because we are uncertain of what we should do or say. Most of the time it's about a listening ear or a tender hug or just a gentle reminder that we are there. That is, perhaps, the greatest gift of comfort we can share.