OUR HOPE IS IN THE LORD

“Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.’  The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”  (Lamentations 3:21-26 NIV)

At a time when I thought my world had all but ended, when the realization was hammering at my heart that my daughter's death was not some nightmare from which I would recover but was for all time, a friend came into the room, put her arms around my neck, and said, "Everything's going to be all right."

I thought she was crazy.  And yet.... and yet.... was it possible that she was right?

I had occasion, some years later, to be the consoler of a young woman whose son had lapsed into a coma from which he would not recover, and my words to her were the same.  "Everything's going to be all right." And I felt my friend from that earlier time standing beside me, nodding - See, that's what I told you.

Improbably though it seems when grief first assaults us we do come to learn, though the surface of our life will often be in turmoil, that on a deep and unshakable level there is indeed a confidence that all is well. 

Until that happens, we cling to the testimony of others and take hope: if for them, why not for us, too? 

-- Martha Whitmore Hickman in “Healing After Loss”

#6412

VICTORY IN JESUS

“When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”  (1 Corinthians 15:54-57 NIV)

The natives of the Fiji Islands have a hopeless custom known as "calling to the dead."  The one who has suffered the death of a loved one climbs to a high tree or cliff.  He mentions the name of the deceased, then cries out desperately, "Come back!  Come back!"  The eerie echo of grief fills the air.  Those who have suffered the loss of their soul mate, companion, or beloved child can sympathize deeply.

The Christian does not need to climb to the top of a cliff, because Jesus climbed the hill of Calvary.  You don't have to cry out, "Come back!" from a high tree, because Jesus cried out, "Father, forgive them," from a wooden cross.  The resurrection power of Christ over death and hell brings a Christian hope in this life and the life to come.

-- Lenya Heitzig and Penny Pierce Rose in “Pathway to God's Treasure: Ephesians”

#6348

COMFORT AND COMPASSION

Editor’s Note: Today, January 21, is the anniversary of the birth of our son, Dustin (1982-1998). Today’s author, Nancy Guthrie, offered many of the lessons she learned from the loss of two of her children in her first book, “Holding On to Hope: A Pathway of Suffering to the Heart of God” which was published in 2002. Since then, Nancy has continued to write books that reflect her compassion for hurting people and her passion for applying God's Word to real life.

COMFORT AND COMPASSION

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”  (2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV)

Ours is not a culture that is comfortable with sadness.  Sadness is awkward.  It is unsettling.  It ebbs and flows and takes its own shape.  It beckons to be shared.  It comes out in tears, and we don't quite know what to do with those.

So many people are afraid to bring up my loss.  They don't want to upset me.  But my tears are the only way I have to release the deep sorrow I feel.  I tell people, "Don't worry about crying in front of me, and don't be afraid that you will make me cry!  Your tears tell me you care, and my tears tell you that you've touched me in a place that is meaningful to me -- and I will never forget your willingness to share my grief." 

-- Nancy Guthrie in “Holding On to Hope”

#6289

HOLDING ON TO HOPE

“Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.’  The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”  (Lamentations 3:21-26 NIV)

Holding on to hope is the challenge of all grief and loss experiences. Finding courage or energy to go on day after day requires hope of healing, hope for future. Holding on to hope is not always easy. Some days it requires all of our energy just to maintain our own lives. On other days, we at least want to believe that "for everything there is a purpose," as we try to find the purpose in our own experience. That requires finding ways to make meaning even out of situations that may seem so meaningless. Those are the days we really struggle to find belief in the unseen.

Many people say those days of struggle are when they lean most heavily on their faith, in order to find the inspiration and comfort they need to be able to go on. After all, Scriptures says, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." (Hebrews 11:1 NIV)

There are many days, walking through that maze of healing, that require belief in God, hope, and future without seeing any proof of them. Time in prayer, reading His Word, and fellowship with believers can all help in the struggle of holding on.

Holding on to hope requires active participation. It is not a passive process. It requires holding on to faith in the future, at a time when we can barely survive the present. It means clinging to the belief that God is good and will help us when all we can see seems to say that is not true. 

-- From “A Time to Mourn, A Time to Dance: Help for the Losses in Life”   

LIGHT JUXTAPOSED WITH DARKNESS

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."  (John 1:5)

Katherine E. Willis Perchey, in her book “A Feast Juxtaposed,” writes, “We know full well that the work begun in the manger is not yet complete. Christmas is, for the time being, a feast of light juxtaposed with darkness. We brighten our sanctuary with candles, but the night persists beyond these walls. Though we wipe our tears away to join in the yuletide celebration, we are still a people who mourn.”

Christmas is often painted as a season of pure joy -- bright lights, cheerful songs, and warm gatherings. Yet Katherine Willis Perchey reminds us that the manger was not the end of the story, but the beginning. The Christ-child entered a world still marked by sorrow, injustice, and longing. The candles we light in our sanctuaries are symbols of hope, but they do not erase the night outside our doors.

This tension -- light juxtaposed with darkness -- is the very heart of Advent and Christmas. We celebrate the incarnation, God’s presence among us, while acknowledging that creation still groans. We rejoice, but we also mourn. We sing “Joy to the World,” even as tears linger on our cheeks.

The beauty of the gospel is that God does not demand we hide our grief to enter His joy. Instead, He meets us in the mourning. The manger is a promise that the darkness will not have the final word. The work begun in Bethlehem continues in us, through Christ’s Spirit, until the day when every tear is wiped away and night is no more.

When you light a candle this season, let it remind you that Christ’s light shines not in the absence of darkness, but in the midst of it. Allow space for both joy and sorrow in your celebrations. To mourn while rejoicing is not a contradiction -- it is faithful living in the “already but not yet” of God’s kingdom. Pray for those who feel the weight of grief during Christmas. Your presence and compassion can be a reflection of Christ’s light. 

-- SOUND BITES Ministry™

#6268

MOVING ON

“If the clouds are full of rain, they empty themselves upon the earth; and if the tree falls toward the south or toward the north, in the place where the tree falls, there it shall lie.” (Ecclesiastes 11:3 AMP)

King Solomon said that where the tree falls, there it lies.  It is done, and we will not raise it up again.  But it is what we do from this point forward that makes the difference.

Something that seemed so sure turns questionable and something for which we had little hope suddenly works out.  Regardless of how things appear, they can be totally different -- and it is what we do from now on that will make or break us.  Moving on does not mean we do not care; it means we will not let it keep us from living fully. 

-- Toni Engstrom 

#6187

GOD’S AMAZING GRACE

“He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all – how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:32 NIV)

Take all your anxieties to Calvary, Paul urged. Stand in the shadow of God’s crucified Son. Now pose your questions. Is Jesus on my side? Look at the wound in His. Will He stay with me? Having given the supreme and costliest gift, “how can He fail to lavish upon us all He has to give?” (Romans 8:32 NEB)

“’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.” When John Newton penned this promise, he did so out of personal experience. His greatest test came the day he buried his wife, Mary. He had loved her dearly and prayed his death would precede hers. But his prayer was not answered.

Yet God’s grace proved sufficient. On the day she died Newton found strength to preach a Sunday sermon. The next day he visited church members, and later he officiated at his wife’s funeral. He grieved but in his grief found God’s provision. He later wrote, “The Bank of England is too poor to compensate for such a loss as mine. But the Lord, the all-sufficient God, speaks, and it is done. Let those who know Him, and trust Him, be of good courage. He can give them strength as their trials increase… and what He can do He had promised that He will do.” (From “But Now I See: The Life of John Newton” by Josiah Bull.)

Let God’s grace dethrone your fears. Anxiety still comes, for certain. The globe still heats up; wars still flare up; the economy acts up. Disease, calamity, and trouble populate your world. But they don’t control it! Grace does. 

-- Max Lucado in “Grace: More Than We Deserve, Greater Than We Imagine”

#6184

 

THE MYSTERY OF LIFE AND DEATH

EDITOR’S NOTE: This prayerful reflection was first shared at a service that was held for people gathered to mourn the loss of five music students from Indiana University who died in a plane crash on April 20, 2006.

"Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me." (Psalm 23:4 NIV)

Oh Dear God, we come to You because we do not know where else to go. We come to You with more questions than affirmations. We want to ask, "Why?", "Why now?" "Why them?"

We can not accept the glib answer that You need them for some angelic choir more than we need them here. It is not so. We can not - we will not believe that it is some direct act of will on Your part that these young persons should die so soon. You would not tease us with promising futures, only to snuff out these lives before any fulfillment of their dreams. We want to quarrel, but must confess that the mystery of life and death is beyond our mortal minds.

But we still come, in spite of questions, in spite of anger, because our pain is such that we need Your love and need Your comfort and need to feel Your presence more than we need answers that will not satisfy. Hold us close to You, close to each other and close to those we have lost.

Even as our own grief seems too much to bear, we remember those for whom these deaths are far more personal. We pray for their families, for those for whom life will be forever changed, where empty chairs and empty rooms and silent instruments will be constant reminders of their loss.

But, we also come to be reminded that we live in the light of Easter. We have proclaimed that Christ is risen, that death has been conquered, that life continues beyond the event we call death and we claim the promises made that in life and in death we belong to You, brothers and sisters of our Lord Jesus Christ and therefore Your children always.  Amen 

-- Joe G. Emerson, Teaching Pastor, First United Methodist Church, Bloomington, IN

#6042

JOY AND SORROW

“An angel of the Lord appeared to [Joseph] in a dream, saying, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take to you Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. And she will bring forth a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.’ So all this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the Lord through the prophet, saying: “Behold, the virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel,’ which is translated, ‘God with us.’”  (Matthew 1:20-23 NKJV)

Grief is particularly difficult at Christmas, as the best memories can be the hardest ones. But the hope of Christmas is broad enough for joy and sorrow.

The strangeness and scandal of the season get easily lost in its familiar rituals. In Christian belief, the boundless, timeless God became, in J.B. Phillips’s phrase, one of those “crawling creatures of that floating ball.” …it is the central tenet of an enduring faith. Instead of setting out a philosophy to interpret the human drama, God joined it. He became “God with us” -- a God with a face. In the process, He both shared and dignified ordinary human life, with all its delight, boredom and suffering. The Christmas story revels in this blasphemous elevation of the ordinary -- a birth in second-rate accommodations under a cloud of illegitimacy.

The story is also shadowed by sorrow. In one of the odder moments of the narrative, a random stranger at the Jerusalem Temple predicts a mother’s grief. “A sword,” Simeon tells Mary, “shall pierce through your own soul also” (Luke 2:35). As it did. As it has for many mothers and fathers who have followed.

The point of Christmas is not a sentimental optimism about the human condition or even a teaching about the will of God. It is an assertion that God in Christ came to our rescue, and holds our hand, and becomes, at the worst moments, our brokenhearted brother. It is preposterous, unless it is true. And then it would be everything. 

-- Michael Gerson in “The Washington Post,” December 24, 2012

#6012

EMBRACING HOPE IN THE MIDST OF TRAGEDY

I cannot imagine what it would be like to endure a tragedy without the hope that God offers.  Without Jesus Christ, there is no hope.  There is simply an eternal, black, cold and unrelenting void.  Just last week I came face to face with a man who didn't believe in anything.  What a miserable way to end life.

Of course, we Christians grieve when those we love are taken from us, but we do not grieve as those who have no hope.  We do not believe that people cease to exist when they die; the Bible tell us that we will again see all those loved ones who put their faith in Christ.  As Paul writes, "Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who die, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope.  We believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have died in Him" (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14).

Hope is available to us, even in the midst of tragedy.  And not only hope for eternal life, but hope of being reunited with those we love.  Hope is available now, even in tragedy, because God has promised to walk with us through any disaster that might over take us.

-- Luis Palau in “Where Is God When Bad Things Happen?”

#5942

GOD’S HEALING WORD FOR TODAY

“Cause me to understand the way of Your precepts, that I may meditate on Your wonderful deeds. My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to Your Word.”  (Psalm 119:27,28 NIV)

The Word of God is not a word to apply in our daily lives at some later date; it is a word to heal us through, and in, our listening here and now.

The questions therefore are: How does God come to me as I listen to the Word? Where do I discern the healing hand of God touching me through the Word? How are my sadness, my grief, and my mourning being transformed at this very moment? Do I sense the fire of God’s love purifying my heart and giving me new life? These questions lead me to the sacrament of the Word, the sacred place of God’s real presence. 

-- Henri J. M. Nouwen in “With Burning Hearts”

#5813

BESIDE US IN GRIEF

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me." (Psalm 29:2 NKJV)

God does not cheapen Himself or us by offering us easy answers to the anguished, "Why?" that we who are human cannot help but ask.  The mystery of life and death and suffering remains a mystery in all human generations, and it is no less a mystery for us.  We don't get a quick fix from our faith.

But we do encounter a God who sits patiently beside us in grief, usually silently, like an orthodox Jew sitting shivah with his bereaved friend, offering no words to explain away a mystery that is beyond words.  God sits with us in our sorrow. In the days and weeks after a loss, as we sit together in the silence, something new begins to creep into our consciousness. The faith that has sustained our whole lives will begin to knot our sorrow over this death together with what we believe about the life to come [through faith in Christ].  Faith and experience will knit together like a broken bone knits together as time passes.  We begin to be able to see for ourselves what is already a reality for those who have gone on ahead of us, something the tears of early bereavement make it hard for us to see at first.  They begin to appear in our vision of heaven, taking their place in the communion of the saints. We begin to feel their presence, not just their absence.  Once again, the resurrection faith to which we cling gently bathes our hearts, and our hearts are healed. 

-- Bishop Edmund Lee Browning from "A Year of Days with the Book of Common Prayer" 

#5734

LIMITED UNDERSTANDING

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.”  (1 Corinthians 13:12 ESV)

C. S. Lewis once said, "[Sometimes] when I lay [my] questions before God I get no answer.  But a rather special sort of No answer.  It is not the locked door, it is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze.  As though He shook His head not in refusal but in waiving the question, like, 'Peace, child you don't understand'."

Sometimes it seems our greatest hope is that we don't understand. Because from the vantage we have when we are feeling low, the sense of the futility of life, and the apparent finality of death, can all but overwhelm us.

Far better to acknowledge that our understanding is limited, to relish the stories of faith and intuition that come to us -- and wait and see!  We stand so close.  What if someone trying to view Michelangelo's magnificent painting of "The Creation of Adam" in the Sistine chapel got so close that all he could see was two fingertips touching?  A good view, but a very small piece of the whole picture.

The questions are unanswerable.  The real question is one of trust. 

-- Martha Whitmore Hickman in “Healing After Loss”

#5716

LIFE IS FRAGILE

“Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age."  (Matthew 28:20b)

The thread of life is fragile.   A few cells within a healthy body grow erratically and we receive the diagnosis of cancer; a second's misjudgment at an intersection, and a life is lost; a heart that keeps its cadence for decades skips a few beats and we find ourselves in intensive care; a friend loses her baby during pregnancy; an aging parent shows signs of Alzheimer's; violence strikes someone we know.  None of us is immune to such devastating experiences for ourselves, our families, or among our friends.  Inexpressible suffering barges in at unexpected moments.  And everyone balances the more common (yet anguishing) anxieties, setbacks, and losses that challenge our ability to cope – conflict at home, financial loss, trouble with teenagers, struggles with alcohol, feelings of loneliness.  No one lives without facing a threatening darkness.

We overestimate our capacity to handle these things all by ourselves, and we underestimate the power of community to help.  Belonging to a caring community, we discover a sustenance that does not answer all our questions or end all our challenges, but which keeps us connected, rooted, grounded.  When the worst happens, God doesn't promise us an answer; God provides us a relationship.  Through sustaining relationships, we discover that God is not aloof from life and disinterested in us.  Instead, God gets in the trenches and suffers with us.  We are not alone.  God is with us.  God's presence reaches us through the people who love us.  The thread of life is fragile, but the fabric of life is eternal. 

-- Robert Schnase in “Five Practices of Fruitful Living”

#5708

IN TIMES OF SORROW

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”  (Colossians 3:12-13 NIV)

Many people have told me they “don’t know what to say” to the family of someone who has died and, sadly, for fear of saying the “wrong thing,” end up saying nothing at all. People in mourning need our support. In times of sorrow, one word, one gesture, can mean everything.

Each one of us must take the initiative. Hold someone’s hand. Send a poem [or Scripture verse], a photograph, a letter of remembrance. If you buy a card, add a personal message. If you feel awkward, simply say, “I’ve been thinking of you.” This will create an opening. Don’t ask what you can do. Anticipate and act. Listen. Be compassionate. Don’t give advice, philosophize, or tell the person you know how they’re feeling. You don’t. Statements such as “it was God’s will” or “Your loved one is better off now” are insensitive sentiments, akin to a poke with a sharp stick. It’s best to be true to yourself and to the person who has died. If you knew them well, create a picture, a memory of a time you spent together, for his or her family -- a night at the movies, an afternoon over a cup of tea, an ongoing joke only known to the two of you -- the most common recollection has uncommon meaning to people in mourning, particularly if it’s a story they’ve never heard. You have different memories than they do. Think of your reminiscence as a tiny eulogy, an addition to their family archives, and know that if it comes with compassion the contribution will be welcome. 

-- Nancy Cobb in “In Lieu of Flowers: A Conversation for the Living”

#5695

TIME TO HEAL

If you are like most SOUND BITES subscribers you are reading this early in the morning. I usually schedule the day’s quote a day or two ahead, so that whether or not I am up and about yet, it is sent at 7:00 a.m. central time. So, today, possibly while you are reading this, I am having knee replacement surgery. (Yes, your prayers for the surgery and my recovery and rehab would be appreciated.)

As I began thinking about what to share today, a quote about the similarity of grief and surgery came to mind. In his book “Don’t Take My Grief Away,” Doug Manning wrote, “Grieving is as natural as crying when you are hurt, sleeping when you are tired, eating when you are hungry, or sneezing when your nose itches. It’s nature’s way of healing a broken heart. Don’t let anyone take your grief away from you. You deserve it, and you must have it. If you had broken a leg, no one would criticize you for using crutches until it was healed. If you had major surgery, no one would pressure you to run in a marathon the next week. Grief is a major wound. It does not heal overnight. You must have the time and the crutches until you heal.”

One of the comforts of both grief and surgery is knowing that God is with us. "Have I not commanded you?  Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." (Joshua 1:9) The life of the Christian is always uncertain. There are no guarantees.  Paul tells the elders at the church in Ephesus at a time of change in his life, "And now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem, not knowing what will happen to me there" (Acts 20:22).  “Going and not knowing” seems to be the pattern of the life of faith -- whether in the loss of a loved one, the ending of a relationship, the need for surgery, the termination of a job, etc.  But in the unknown places, God is there before you. Lean on Him, and take the time to heal. 

-- Rev. David T. Wilkinson, SOUND BITES Ministry

#5677

SACRED TEARS

"You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your record?" (Psalm 56:8)

In her book, “Strange Scriptures That Perplex the Western Mind” (Erdmans, 1940), Barbara M. Bowen provides some background on the image the psalmist may have been referring to. She describes the old custom of collecting the tears of a family and preserving the tears in bottles. When death or serious trouble has occurred, each member of the family brought his or her tear bottle and collected tears from all the persons present. These bottles were sacred to the family members because they represented all the sorrows of the family. Each person was buried with his or her tear bottle. Many of these have been found in ancient tombs

I had an experience recently that enriched this image of the psalmist for me. I was counseling with a young woman, Leigh Hobbson, who had recently lost one of the most important persons in her life -- a great-aunt who was almost like a mother to her. It was painful -- and she had done a lot of crying, which is cleansing and healing.

One morning, Leigh's six-year-old daughter, Katy, witnessing her mother's grief, painted her a picture and gave it, with some other love tokens, to her mom and said, "I want you to feel better."

That night when Leigh was tucking Katy into bed she thanked her and told her that her love gifts did make her feel better. Then she added, "But Katy, I want you to know that Mommy may cry a lot more, because I love Ola so much." "But Mommy," Katy said, "I'm afraid you'll turn into a tear." "Well," said Leigh, "If I turned into a tear, would you wipe me up?" "No," said Katy, "I would put you into my eye."

Wow! What perception and wisdom -- what a picture of love! The psalmist was praying that somehow God would take his tears, use them, make them God's own -- and, yes, even redeem them. 

-- Maxie Dunnam in “Living the Psalms”

#5602

UNDERSTANDING OUR PAIN

“We despised Him and rejected Him -- a man of sorrows, acquainted with bitterest grief.”  (Isaiah 53:3a TLB)

One evening the members of my small group were discussing that verse, and someone asked an intriguing question: what, exactly, is the “bitterest” grief? Is there one pain that outweighs all others? One hurt that has no equal? We threw out all sorts of possibilities: divorce, the death of a mate, the death of a child, Alzheimer’s, cancer… But in the end we decided that the “bitterest” grief is the one you happen to be going through at the moment.

That’s the perfect answer. And the perfect message for hurting believers everywhere.

Whatever agony you happen to be going through right now, Jesus is acquainted with it. Don’t be fooled by the fact that He lived a couple of thousand years ago. Satan would love for you to think that because Jesus didn’t live during our hectic, complicated times, He couldn’t possibly understand what you’re going through. Not true. Pain is pain, whether you’re wearing a tunic and sandals or Dockers and a Polo. And Jesus had plenty of pain. More than enough to understand how you feel. 

-- Mark Atteberry in “Free Refills: Coming Back for More of Jesus”

#5450

THE SEASONS OF GRIEF

"For everything, there is a season," a familiar verse [in Ecclesiastes] tells us.

Life and death come quickly in nature -- buds swell into green leaves, turn golden, then brown, and drop to the earth. Nature shows us [rebirth] as plants are reborn and flowers, once fresh with life, return to the earth to become nourishment for other plants.
 
Nature shows us seasons of life and death everywhere we look.  But nature seams not to mourn these deaths -- not the flowers, not even the animals. Within the lifecycle is a built-in process of survival as one part of nature nourishes another.
 
But people do mourn and grieve -- and so we alone need a season of grief. In this season, the seeds of rebirth are planted. What varies from person to person is the length of this season, the right time for harvest, and the time when rebirth comes.
 
When the seed of life is implanted in a woman we speak of her pregnancy going "full term." By this we mean that she will carry her unborn child the full term of nine months, without intervention. The season of grief must also be allowed, without intervention, to go to full term.
 
It makes me angry when people say, "Get on with your life, it's time to stop grieving." Nobody can tell you what the season of your grief is. It may be a summer, a winter, a spring, a fall, perhaps another winter -- or another -- or another.
 
Just as the gestation period varies from creature to creature, the natural process of grieving varies from person to person. The harvest of renewed life will come in its own season.
 
-- Ted Menten in “After Goodbye” 

#5438

WHAT GRIEF NEEDS

Editor’s note: Joe Bayly wrote a book many years ago about how he and his wife coped with the deaths of three of their sons. He gave the following advice:

Sensitivity in the presence of grief should usually make us silent, more listening. “I’m sorry” is honest; “I know how you feel” is usually not -- even though you may have experienced the death of a person who had the same familial relationship to you as the deceased person had to the grieving one. If the person feels that you can understand, he’ll tell you. Then you may want to share your own honest, not prettied-up feelings in your personal aftermath with death. Don’t try to “prove” anything to a survivor. An arm around the shoulder, a firm grip on the hand, a hug: these are the proofs grief needs, not logical reasoning.

I was sitting, torn by grief. Someone came and talked to me of God’s dealings, of why it happened, of hope beyond the grave. He talked constantly, he said things I knew were true. I was unmoved, except to wish he’d go away. He finally did.

Another came and sat beside me. He didn’t ask leading questions. He just sat beside me for an hour and more, listened when I said something, answered briefly, prayed simply, left. I was moved. I was comforted. I hated to see him go. 

-- Joe Bayly in “Last Thing We Talk About”

#5360