What to Do When You’re Cut from Your Moorings
The phone rang at 6:30 a.m. on a wintry March day six years ago, and the words my brother yelled over the line forever changed my life:
“Mom’s dead!”
We had no warning—none. She was a laughing, loving, vibrant part of our lives, and then she wasn’t. She was ripped from us like a piece of fabric torn in two, and the tearing was violent and painful.
I wasn’t completely inexperienced with death and dying. I had buried my father after a lengthy battle with cancer just eighteen months earlier, and I’ve known death in other forms. But never had someone so close to me been taken so quickly.
I had the best mother. She was a legendary elementary schoolteacher, having won awards both in our state and nationally. She was a good and faithful servant, sharing her time and talents in music and pulpit supply in her church. She also helped my dad with the farm. She was a marvelous mother. As adults, all three of us children loved her wit and slightly goofy sense of humor. She was a beloved friend, a trusted adviser, and the most wonderful grandmother to her eight grandkids.
When she died, we were in shock. We asked, How can this be? How can we go on? Why did this happen?
People ask those kinds of questions after every traumatic loss. We ask them after the loss of a job, a marriage, a dear friendship, a dream. And when those losses are sudden and violent, they leave us feeling especially raw, exposed, and vulnerable. We feel like a boat ripped from its moorings and set adrift on rough seas.
So what do you do when you’re ripped from your moorings?
Do the Next Thing
After the phone call from my brother, I walked around in a haze. But I knew what I needed to do. When our dad died, we had to ship his body home for burial, and I helped my mother plan his funeral. As executor of her estate, I also had legal obligations to attend to—meetings with lawyers and financial institutions. As much as I wanted to die right along with my mother at the time, I had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Her best friend, who was grieving greatly herself, gave me this advice: just do the next thing. If I looked too far down the road and saw the remainder of my life without my mom, it was too much. Being an orphan at age thirty-six was too painful. But if I just looked at the next thing and did that, I would be moving forward.
Look for the Helpers
Fred Rogers of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood fame is often quoted as saying, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’” In my experience of hard times, this has been true; I’ve always found helpers. Look for them: the prayer warriors praying for you, the neighbor who reaches out, the friend who brings a meal.
Go to the One Who Comforts
Matthew 6:8 says, “Our Father knows exactly what you need even before you ask him” (NLT). No matter what unexpected, life-ripping events occur for us, no matter if we walk in a haze and don’t even know what we need, the most comforting words in that verse are “our Father knows.” Our heavenly Father does know. He knows our pain, our fear, and our sorrow, and he’s there with us in the midst of it all, giving us comfort before we even ask.
God never promises us an easy life. But again and again in Scripture, he promises that we never have to go through life’s trials alone. When my mom died, I felt as though I were that boat ripped from its moorings and set adrift on rough seas. But I wasn’t on those rough seas alone. God was there and walking with me, one next thing at a time.
Be a Helper
Going through a tough time can also make you more sensitive to the struggles of others. You’ll be more likely to recognize the signs of crisis and know how best to help them. You were helped. Now be one of the helpers.
is rooted like a turnip to the plains of North Dakota where she raises great food, large numbers of farm animals, and three free-range kids with her husband. You can find her with either a book or knitting needles in her hands as she dreams up her next adventure.
Photograph © Tomoko Uji, used with permission