Porch #168 💔 Grieving Well

Lament matters. And there's never a convenient time to mourn what's been taken or lost or stolen right from under you.

hang with me, guys … this voiceover might be hard to get through

flowers on my lap after Mom’s burial

We’re back together again. And I’m so grateful you’re here, faithful readers and treasured friends.

I'd never really stopped and added it all up before. But as I began to switch gears to plan for a Sunday afternoon grief group a year or so ago, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I lost eight loved ones in eight years.

My Dad, my Mom; my grandson, Tyler. My niece, Jessica; my cousin, Carol. Lifelong friend, Heather. And my partners in ministry for many years, Bob and Brent.

It hit me that saying goodbye to any one of these loved ones would have been cause enough for deep grief. But looking back, I now realize that having their traumatic deaths cascade one after the other allowed me to experience grace toward myself in the immensity of it all.

'No wonder you were so filled with anxiety. You couldn't even catch your breath before the next loss rolled around.'

It all made sense. In reflecting, I understand that God's unchanging, steadying presence has truly been my salvation against totally going under. Refusing to stuff the shock and pain was a lifeline. I found the Psalms to be my prayer book. Simply whispering Jesus brought calmness to my undone mind and body.

*

Grief is not a task to be pushed to the side or tucked away for a more convenient occasion. For there's never the ‘right’ time to mourn what's been taken or lost or stolen right from under you.

Healthy grief can't be boxed up and shoved to the back of the closet like last year's cast-off sweaters. Left untended, all kinds of unpleasant physical maladies, serious relational and professional problems, unexpected over-reactions to daily events, and a stunting of our spiritual lives becomes more likely.

What we grieve over might be fairly inconsequential in the grand scheme of things ... or it could be monumental. Shaking loose the mantle of any kind of weird denial, acknowledging the truth of what's happening right in front of us, naming our emotions, doing the next right thing. That's what we're talking about.

If it's significant to you, it's important enough to pay attention to.

To go there does not mean that we are perpetually maudlin about life or endlessly melancholy or morose. Because grieving-as-you-go has the potential to release you just a bit from all that swirls in your heart, freeing you up so you can make your way through your days with a clearer acceptance and a deeper wisdom concerning those challenges and losses, that left untended, would threaten to undo you.

This is most certainly a layer after layer, wave upon wave process that may go on for quite a while. This, the saying of a long good-bye to whatever has seismically shifted is necessary so you can, in time, embrace a new reality.

We do this not only for our own sanity's sake, but for the sake of those precious ones who look to us, depend on us, count on us to support and love them well. If we're stuck mid-stream and can't move ahead, we're of little use to those who need our active presence.

If we find ourselves unable or unwilling to move ahead as the years flow on, our lives are tragically cut short. We miss out on the beauty of God's daily good gifts and our inner absorption keeps us from seeing opportunities to reach out to those who find themselves in even more dire straits than we've experienced. Apathy, cynicism, and bitterness far too easily seep in to fill the aching void.

Grieving well nudges us to slowly take baby steps forward, one hour at a time. To our surprise, we find ourselves looking in the rearview mirror a bit less. Our hearts become tenderized and we discover gratitude again ... or maybe it finds us.

Oddly enough, joy and sorrow are able to mingle well. Peace and pain can surprisingly co-exist. The Spirit holds us and supports us and comforts us in the brave messiness of tending to our broken hearts and shattered lives.

Our world view slowly enlarges. We begin to re-emerge, re-made by what we have experienced. What we value will most likely change and what we deem important dramatically shift. New priorities may catch us by surprise, the opportunities given to us may be unexpected yet welcome.

Accepting that we'll never be totally whole until we reach heaven invites us to take the pressure off ourselves to try to accomplish that goal while here on earth. In the process of mending and being renewed, we honor the legacy of those we've mourned so deeply. And wonder of wonders, He 'restores the years the locusts have eaten' (Joel 2:25-26).

We become wounded healers.

*

‘Nobody escapes being wounded. We are all wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not, 'How can we hide our wounds?' so we don't have to be embarrassed, but 'How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?' When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.’
- Henri Nouwen

GriefShare Grief & Loss Support Groups

Kate Bowler Grief Care Package

Spiritual First Aid for Serving Those Impacted By Grief

Grace & Space Wellness Resources

Let’s quietly make our way over to the comment section. This is where we hold space for each other to share a bit of our stories. This is where we find out we’re in very good company. You can share … or simply sit and soak it all in.
Linda

We kicked off the year by talking about how unfinished business tends keep us from healthy transitioning. Today’s essay on grieving well is the final installment of this little series.

Porch #164 🕊️ Cultivating a healthy, soul level transition

Porch #166 🗝️ A big brave adios to fear, people-pleasing, & overthinking

Porch #167 🍯 The sweet honey of forgiveness (+ when not to reconcile + 3 reasons you shouldn't forget)

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I share my work with friends Paula . Joanne . Andrew . Joanne