Empty Seat at the Table
Murder. I told you in the first blog that it played into my story. I couldn’t have ever imagined it in my circle. That happens in big cities. It happens in any good drama on television. It doesn’t hit close to home, until it does.
My uncle was murdered 6 years ago. The man who shot him left him in an open field. And my uncle died alone. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. I could give you all the details, but I honestly don’t even have the capacity. It’s an open wound that needs to be tended to, but I just leave it to fester.
Is that healthy? I know it’s not, but it’s so tender that I can’t stand for anyone to touch it. His murder started one of the longest weeks of my life. For the first time, I was at the funeral home looking at caskets, arrangements, song selections. I told my mom that I couldn’t ever do this again. How do people do this???
Thanksgiving came a couple of weeks after his death. My cousin was sitting on the couch. I glanced over at his face. Were those tears? “Are you crying?”, I asked. “Yes, because we have an empty seat at the table this year.”
My family is not big on crying. Especially not the men. We’re not unemotional, but we don’t just sit around crying and holding each other. So, this shook me. My mom would just randomly burst into tears. Not just silent crying but literally bursting. Loud and uncontrollable. I felt helpless. I feel helpless.
What do you do when there is an empty seat at your table? I don’t know. I’m still trying to grasp the empty seat at mine. I could tell you to lean and depend on God. That’s true but sometimes it feels like a shallow answer. Because I know that intellectually, but I’m still walking around here broken and bent.
They say that not forgiving someone is like swallowing poison expecting the other person to die. God is growing me in this area. I don’t want to walk around with this festering wound forever. So, keep me and my family in your prayers as we deal with the empty seat at our table. #wepreach
