My almost-83-year-old mother keeps me stocked with Netflix recommendations. She spends her time either reading, playing tennis (yes, she still plays), or watching TV. Add the fact that she has insomnia (as do I—thanks for sharing that gene with me, Mama), and she churns through a lot of television. The good thing for me is I get pre-reviewed entertainment suggestions, which I find helpful. When I look at ALL the options available on Netflix alone, the decision-making section of my brain goes on overload, and I end up watching reruns of the Great British Baking Show or Queer Eye.
So, thanks to Mama’s sacrifice of spending her time to vet shows for me, I recently watched Adolescence. (Short review at the end of this post – worth watching!) The show was emotional, and it affected me.
During the last scene of the final episode, I didn’t say anything, or even make a noise, but tears spilled down my cheeks as I watched. Then my dog, Buddy, stood from where he lay on his rug, walked over, and shoved his nose under my hand. Did he come over to comfort me? How did he know?
Comfort. Easy enough to provide. Can we offer comfort in the same way?
Thinking of this reminded me of an incident at the school where I taught. Every year, one hour would be my conference period. Most teachers took care of paperwork business during that time, including making copies of lessons in the copy room. Every year, we’d have different “copy room partners,” depending on how schedules were set up. One year, my copy buddy was Coach Peters (name changed). His son had graduated with a teaching degree the previous May, and Alex had been hired at our school to teach and coach baseball, to be Coach Peters’ assistant. The prospect of working alongside his son thrilled Coach. Then one day, they found the young man dead in his bed. I don’t remember now what the exact medical diagnosis was, but Coach Peters and his wife were blindsided.
Alex died over the summer, so a few months had gone by when I ran into Coach in the copy room. I asked him how he was doing. I didn’t specifically mention his son, but that’s what I meant. He poured his heart out to me, tears sliding down his face. Tears slid down mine as well. We were work colleagues, not friends. I hardly knew the man. But the thought of living through the death of my child made my heart hurt for him.
What floored me was when he said this: “I wanted to talk about Alex one day during our planning period. My department chair listened for a minute, then told me she thought I should get over it. Life goes on sort of thing.”
Her response shocked him. It shocked me. All he wanted was to remember his child, to share memories of him. The woman shut him down.
I don’t think she meant to be cruel. When people are faced with emotions, and we don’t know what to do to fix the problem, we avoid. And seeing tears from a grown person, particularly a man, puts others into an uncomfortable situation. But all Coach wanted was to talk, to be heard. My job was simple—listen. And cry a little with him. To care enough to ask how he was. We hugged afterward and went about our day. I don’t think I spoke to him one-on-one again that year. But in that moment, my attention gave him something that helped. By acknowledging his pain, I allowed him to grieve. Maybe that’s all he needed.
We’ll all probably find ourselves in a similar situation at least once in our lives. When that moment comes, do your best not to run away. Instead, be the sympathetic ear, offer a shoulder to cry on. In today’s emotionally fraught world, we need to take care of each other.
Galatians 6:2 teaches this: Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.
Sometimes, we don’t have to solve anything. Just listen.
In my writing world, I have an update. My completed contemporary romance about an aging rock star, Made for More, is currently with an acquisitions editor at one of the large five Christian publishing houses. Receiving an offer from one of the Top Five without agent representation is a big leap, so I’m keeping my expectations realistic. She told me she’d have an update by July. If the answer is no, I’ll move forward with self-publishing the novel. If that is the case, my goal is to have the book out into the world by September. So stay tuned!
I’m currently writing my first attempt at romantic suspense. I’m on chapter seven as we speak and having a lot of fun figuring this genre out. My working title is Fighting for Justice, but that will probably change. Titles come hard for me.
You can find all of my books on Amazon in print, eBook, or audiobook formats.
Here’s a link to the audiobook of Protected. https://paulapeckham.com/never-trust-anyone-who-has-not-brought-a-book-with-them-lemony-snicket/
I taught a class on formatting to the San Gabriel Writers League last week. My next step is to break down each small segment into individual videos and post them on YouTube. If you’re contemplating self-publishing and want to save some money by doing the formatting yourself, give the videos a try. Here is a link to the first one I’ve uploaded, which shows you how to change your margins to the size you want your book to be.
Subscribe to be notified when I upload the next videos. And, as always, if you run into problems doing your formatting, I’m an email away and would love to help.
Series review
Adolescence.
Described as a four-part crime drama, it shows the fallout after thirteen-year-old Jamie is arrested for murdering his classmate. The show probes mental health, masculinity, and the ease of online radicalization, particularly within the incel (involuntary celibate) culture. A string of violent acts committed by teenage boys against teenage girls in Great Britain inspired the series. Stephen Graham, who plays Jamie’s father, has the final scene of the show. His performance absolutely gutted me.
* Cautionary note: I doubt if everyone in Great Britain speaks this way, but many of the British shows I watch have some pretty serious language. They (at least in the movies) drop the F-bomb as casually as I say, “please pass the salt.” Be forewarned.
