Serving Widows Who Are Also Your Neighbors

Ridgecrest Baptist Church has a long tradition of organizing a luncheon near Valentine's Day for the widows of our church. The deacons help set-up, serve and clean up as a way to minister to the widows of our church on this holiday that often represents the love of couples.

There is a growing program at Ridgecrest called Righteous Oaks that is focused on developing friendships and a network of believers among those in the church that are widows or widowers. The program needs champions who help market it, get people there, and serve in the ministry. More information about Righteous Oaks and the Grief Share ministry can be found on the church website.

Some of the statistics on widows in the United States are startling.

• Widows are the fastest-growing demographic in the United States as baby boomers age. 
• Widows lose 75% of their friendship network when their spouse dies.
• 60% of widows experience serious health issues in that first year. 
• One-third of widows meet the criteria for clinical depression in the first month after their spouse’s death, and half of these remain clinically depressed a year later. 
• Most widows experience a financial decline.

WIDOW AS NEIGHBOR

But what about the widows that live near you? Sometimes widows fall in to that category of "non-neighbor," someone we don't see or notice. But if you have noticed a widow near where they live, this is a great season to reach out to them.

Many widows say that they need help with things from time to time. If they have no family in the area, it might be simple acts, like changing light bulbs or bigger things like mowing or shoveling snow. In many cases, it might just be the kindness of a neighbor checking in with a bit of food and a short conversation.

And while you may think time is your most precious commodity, giving a little of it to a widow that lives near you can be kingdom changing.

A TRUE STORY

Consider this story a friend of mine, who is a widow, wrote in one of her blog posts recently:

Lonely widows. I am one. I am a part of the fastest growing demographic in the United States as baby boomers age. We loose 75% of our friendship network when we become one. 60% of us experience serious health issues in that first year. One third of us meet the criteria for clinical depression in the first month after our spouse’s death, and half of these remain clinically depressed a year later. Most experience financial decline.

If someone had described this scenario to me five years ago, I would have stated emphatically, “It can’t be so! In the community of believers we support each other. We walk together on the journey.” I look back on my own responses to women who became widows and realize how little I understood, how little I empathized, how seldom I walked beside them. Many, in fact, became invisible whether it was in ministry positions, small group participation, or social events. Of the approximately 50% who leave the church they attended with their spouse, some reconnect to a place that matches their needs.

If someone had quoted the friendship statistic, I would have thought, “That won’t be me.” With the network that surrounds Bob and me, I will never experience loss of that magnitude. Yet I did. Connections that are primarily through our husbands, change and departures, while appropriate are still painful to process.

May I help you understand us by describing some of my personal experiences? Becoming a widow means nothing is the same. With Bob’s exit to heaven absolutely every iota of my existence has changed: my calendar, my check book, what’s in my frig, the wake-up alarm time, the thermostat, the traffic pattern in the bedroom, which restaurants I can enter, and yes, the look in my children’s’ eyes when they step in the door on holidays. My living space is more cluttered, make-up is seldom used, and I am familiar with the smell of car oil as I sit in Lube Right next to the overdone coffee wondering what Bob did when he waited here.

There are other changes so private and personal they cannot be shared. Loneliness and solitude are words that are not descriptive enough of the space that becomes the cocoon of the widow. We discover that our journeys are very different and we fit in no mold. However, we have an incredibly strong connecting bond that links us to each other because of our shared experience.