This is the time of year that I start getting interested in Major League Baseball. The pennant races get exciting and the anticipation of the playoffs and the World Series still get me. But there’s one world series I’ll never forget, though I can’t remember the heroes or the scores. Here’s the story:
It was devastating. He’d been taken in his prime, leaving a wife and four children. I was asked to sing at the funeral.
She didn’t look like a widow. She wasn’t old enough, but she was. And as everyone lined up to express their deep sympathy before the casket was closed, I watched her comfort the mourners. She was comforting those who had come to comfort but didn’t know how.
I barely got through my song. As much as I loved my missing friend I looked at the faces of his wife and children and tried to imagine what their lives were going to be like after they were done being strong for everyone else.
I wondered when that moment would come. It was during the World Series.
“Michael…what ya’ doin’? Her voice sounded good, almost playful.
“Tryin’ to get out of work. Got any really great excuses you think my wife’ll buy?”
“Sure do. Tell her you have to rescue a widow and her fatherless child.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s sort of an emergency”
“Emergency?”
“Get here as soon as you can…..and bring chocolate”
The smell of fresh popcorn was filling the front porch when I arrived. I could hear the National anthem coming from the TV in the den. The door opened before I knocked.
“Get in here. The game’s about to begin. “
On the coffee table in the den was the finest smorgasbord of baseball food I had ever seen. Hot dogs, with kraut, onions, relish and mustard in easy scoop dishes. Nachos with shredded beef, extra cheese, killer salsa and jalapenos arranged in the shape of a baseball diamond. Bean dip, cheddar dip, spinach artichoke dip, pretzels, Cheetos, cornnuts, peanuts (in shells and out, candy coated and dry packed) and in every empty space on the table were dishes filled with cracker jacks and sunflower seeds, and some empty bowls I assumed were for the chocolate.
She took my chocolate offering from my hand. In the sack were some M&M’s and a couple of Hershey Bars with almonds.
“This it?” she said looking at the paltry offering. “What are we gonna do if it goes extra innings?”
“If the game’s close, I’ll run to the market during the 7th inning stretch.”
Sitting on the couch, absorbed in an electronic hand held game was her son.
“Hey Will…ready for the big game?” I asked.
He didn’t look up…”I guess”…
“Who we cheering for?”
He didn’t answer. Partly because he was battling Aliens from another galaxy, and that can distract just about anyone, but I think the real reason he didn’t answer is because he didn’t care.
His mom pulled me into the kitchen.
“So what’s the big emergency I’m here for?”
“Could you just be a guy in the house for a couple of hours? Watch the game, yell at the umpires, eat too much and belch too loud and make a mess and act like it belongs there.” Her eyes got a little moist. “There’s too much estrogen in this house. I’m afraid he’s gonna forget what guys are supposed to do when the series is on.”
We’d been friends for a long time and I guess she knew she didn’t have to be strong for me, so she broke down. It lasted about as long as a commercial break between innings. My friend then performed a little ritual I suppose she’d done more than once. She pounded her fist against her thigh, shook her head, took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Why do people think it’s comforting to tell a widow why they believe her husband had to die?
“What do you mean?”
“Do you have any idea how many people have taken it upon themselves to tell me why my husband’s gone? Somehow, they’ve been able to see beyond the veil and feel comforted in knowing that Bill was called home; that he had some special mission to perform on the other side; that God needed him. What’s that? The Almighty can’t get along without him but the kids and I can. Do people even know what they’re saying?”
“Probably not”
“Well then why don’t they just keep their mouths shut. Most of them don’t have a clue what it’s like and yet somehow, through some spiritual gift only they possess, they understand all, see all, and know the mind and will of God and can tell me why our family has to suffer.”
She wasn’t looking for a response, so I didn’t offer one.
“I’m sure everyone means well. They don’t know what to say but feel like they have to say something, and maybe the things they say are comforting to them, but it makes me feel that much more alone. It seems that if anyone ought to be receiving an understanding about such a thing it should be the one who’s suffering. All I know for sure is that my husband is dead, and it doesn’t seem right and it doesn’t seem fair and it doesn’t make any sense at all.”
I wanted so much to make things better. My mind checked the index on human suffering and noted a lot of stuff: articles by C.S. Lewis, Psalms from David and messages from prophets through the ages were all good stuff, powerful stuff, spiritually comforting stuff, but I got the feeling this wasn’t the time or the place. It was time for dogs and suds, nachos and cheese, and handfuls of chocolate with cracker jack chasers.
I can’t remember who won. In fact, I can’t remember who was playing that year. But I do remember the mess I’d made and the delight in my friend’s eyes when I didn’t even pretend to want to clean it up. Her son even put down his gameboy long enough to join me in throwing popcorn at an ump who’d made a bad call.
When I got home my heart was unsettled. Maybe I should have said something. I thought maybe I could sing things I couldn’t say. Or, perhaps, the things she wasn’t ready to hear in words she could feel in melody. I wanted to write a song that could express some of those profound spiritual truths that have been given as gifts from gospel scholars, spiritual giants or ancient holy men, but that song didn’t get written that day. Instead, one that said this did:
It would be crazy for me to even try and pretend
That I know what you’re going through
And I haven’t found answers that make sense to me
So I don’t have an answer for you….
I just want to say something that shows that I care
And I wish it could do some good
But I can’t comprehend all that you’re feeling how
But I love you and wish I could
I don’t understand
Why this ever had to happen to you
I don’t understand
So I’m not sure how to help you get through
It’s such a mystery
Why this happened to you and not to me
I know there is a plan
And that we’re tested but this doesn’t seem fair
I don’t understand
So I don’t know how to say, “Don’t despair”
I’m just hoping that you will see
That I’m saying that I care
That I always will be here
And that I understand one thing eternally
And that’s how much you’ll always mean to me
.
