The Ministry of Showing Up

October Blog Series — Week 3: When Life Changes the Plan

Sometimes the greatest expression of love is simply being there.

There are moments in life when words seem inadequate. When the diagnosis is frightening.

When the future becomes uncertain and when the phone call brings news we never wanted to hear. When someone we love takes their final breath. In those moments, even the most thoughtful words cannot change what has happened. But I am discovering something about the power of presence. Sometimes, when there is nothing anyone can say to make things better, simply showing up becomes its own ministry.

Love That Takes Action

During my husband's illness and following his death, my family and I experienced an outpouring of love that continues to touch my heart. Prayers, phone calls, text messages, cards, flowers, meals, gifts, visits, and countless expressions of kindness reminded us that we were not walking this journey alone. Some people knew exactly what to say. Others struggled to find words. Some offered practical assistance. Others simply made their presence known. And I came to appreciate something important. Love does not always arrive in the same form. Sometimes it looks like a meal delivered when no one feels like cooking. Sometimes it is a phone call that begins with, "I just wanted to check on you." Sometimes it is someone quietly taking care of a task before you even realize it needs to be done. And sometimes it is a person who sits beside you without trying to fill the silence. None of those gestures can remove the pain of loss. But they can remind us that we do not have to carry that pain alone.

When We Don't Know What to Say

I think one of the reasons people hesitate to reach out during difficult times is that they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. We want our words to bring comfort. We want to offer something meaningful and to make the person feel better. But grief is not a problem that can be solved with the perfect sentence. Sometimes there are no words that can adequately express what we feel. And that is okay. You do not have to explain someone's loss or find a reason for their suffering. You do not have to remind them to be strong and you do not have to rush them toward acceptance. Sometimes, the most meaningful thing you can say is simply: "I am here" or "I love you." "I am thinking about you." or "You don't have to respond. I just wanted you to know I care." Those words may seem small, but when they are accompanied by genuine compassion, they can carry tremendous meaning. Presence does not require perfection. It requires compassion.

The Difference Between Offering Help and Being Helpful

There is another lesson I believe we can learn about showing up. Many of us have said, "Let me know if you need anything." I have said those words myself. And I believe most people genuinely mean them. But during times of illness, caregiving, or grief, the person receiving that offer may not know what they need. They may be overwhelmed. They may be exhausted. They may not have the energy to identify a task, explain it, or ask someone to complete it. Sometimes, even asking for help becomes another responsibility.

So perhaps we can become more intentional about the way we offer support. Instead of simply saying, "Call me if you need anything," we might say:

• "May I bring dinner on Thursday?"

• "Would it help if I picked up a few groceries?"

• "Can I make those phone calls for you?"

• "Would you like some company, or would you prefer some quiet time?"

• "May I check on you again next week?"

These are simple gestures, but they communicate something powerful. I see that you are carrying a great deal, and I am willing to help carry a little of it. Of course, we must also respect the person's wishes. Sometimes the most caring thing we can do is give someone the space they need. Showing up is not about inserting ourselves into someone else's experience. It is about making ourselves available with love, sensitivity, and respect.

The Ministry Doesn't End After the Funeral

One of the realities of grief is that life continues moving for everyone. The services conclude. Family members return home. People go back to work. Schedules fill up again.

And the person who is grieving begins adjusting to a life that has changed in ways others may not fully understand. I have become increasingly aware of how meaningful continued expressions of care can be. Just yesterday, a longtime friend invited me to spend a girls' day out with her and a mutual friend. We spent a wonderful afternoon at National Harbor. We enjoyed lunch together, walked along the harbor, and eventually found ourselves sitting outdoors by the water, simply enjoying the beautiful surroundings and one another's company.

There was no elaborate plan or grand gesture. Just three friends spending time together. And it was wonderful. What made that afternoon special wasn't necessarily what we did. It was the opportunity to enjoy friendship, conversation, laughter, and the ordinary pleasures of life. My grief didn't have to be the center of the afternoon. I didn't have to explain how I was feeling or talk about my loss unless I wanted to. I could simply be present in the moment. And I was reminded that making room for joy does not mean we have stopped grieving.

Sometimes, showing up means creating opportunities for someone to experience life beyond their loss. It might be an invitation to lunch. A walk in the park. A visit to a favorite place. Or simply sitting together and enjoying the outdoors. These moments do not erase grief, nor are they intended to. They remind us that even as we learn to live with loss, there are still beautiful moments to experience and meaningful relationships to nurture. The ministry of showing up is not limited to the moment of crisis. It continues in the ordinary days that follow. And sometimes, it looks like three girlfriends sitting by the water, enjoying a beautiful afternoon together.

We Are All in This Together

I have often said that I believe in interdependence. We were never created to navigate life entirely on our own. There are seasons when we are called to give. There are seasons when we need to receive. And sometimes those seasons overlap. During Randolph's illness, I was caring for him while others were caring for me. Following his death, those expressions of care continued. What a beautiful reminder that love is not a one-way relationship. We strengthen one another. We encourage one another and we pray for one another. We also carry one another's burdens. Galatians 6:2 reminds us: "Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ."

That scripture has taken on even greater meaning for me. It reminds me that ministry is not limited to what happens inside a church building. Ministry happens in hospital waiting rooms, and it happens around kitchen tables. It happens through a phone call, a handwritten note, a thoughtful visit, or a quiet act of service. And it happens whenever we choose compassion over convenience.

A Thought to Carry With You

As I reflect on the love my family and I have received, I am deeply grateful. Not simply for the things people have done, but for what their actions communicated. You matter. Your family matters. Your sorrow matters. You are not alone. And perhaps that is the message I most want to leave with you this week. You do not have to be a counselor, minister, or expert in grief to make a difference in someone's life. You simply have to care enough to show up. Reach out to someone you haven't heard from in a while. Remember the person whose loss is no longer recent news. Offer help in a way that is thoughtful and practical. And when you cannot find the right words, remember that love often speaks most clearly through our actions. Sometimes the greatest ministry we can offer is not a sermon, a solution, or an explanation. It is our presence.

Peace. Power. Purpose.

Bernice Tyler-Graddy

BTG Coaching & Consulting LLC