Fair, Not Equal

    I recently met someone I hadn't seen for years. Of course, we had to catch up with each other's lives. I asked her how many grandchildren she had and she happily said, "Fifty with four more on the way." I was stunned. She is younger than me and I found it hard to believe she had that many grandchildren. She went on to say they married young, had nine children, and some of them have twelve or thirteen children. I still found it hard to believe but I'm sure she was not mistaken. 

    I told her our oldest son has no children, the second one adopted his, our daughter has three, and the two youngest sons each have one. She said, "Then you don't have very many grandchildren." I suppose her next statement was intended to be sympathetic or comforting but she flippantly said, "Life is fair; it's just not equal."

   My first reaction was to think that's one way to put it. But the more I thought about it, I decided she was actually telling me she does not understand the grief of infertility. Grandmas who collect grandchildren by the dozen with no difficulty cannot understand how grandmothers grieve with their children when they are unable to have babies. We grieve for a child who never was as much as for one who died after birth.  

    It's so easy to give pat answers when we have not experienced what others are going through. That is true whether it's infertility, death, financial problems, wayward children, or you name it. We can spout off verses to trust in the Lord, or whatever, but that does not necessarily bring the comfort we think it will.

   When we had a stillborn son, someone said now I would be able to comfort others who have the same experience in the future. I knew that was true and nodded but my heart screamed, I don't want to comfort other people. I want my baby. "You have a family started in heaven." I don't want a family in heaven; I want my baby here with me. "I guess if you never had him in your home you don't miss him." What? I had him in my heart and I do miss him.

    Those who offered the most comfort were the ones who had walked the same road before us. I could tell by their faces and tone of voice that they understood. They could empathize, which goes much deeper than sympathy. 

     I'm sure I am guilty of saying things that hurt instead of helped when someone was going through something I never experienced. Or perhaps more often NOT saying something when I should have. It stings to hear someone say, "Life is fair; it's just not equal" when it doesn't feel fair. 

   I am not bitter about the way things have gone for us because I believe God knows what He is doing and someday we will understand. I have accepted the way things are and am thankful for what we do have. This comment was a reminder to me to think before I speak and try to be more understanding.