Photo by Ryan Walton on Unsplash
Here
are some thoughts for reflection:
Only
now, years hence since my initial mortal wounding, when through it Christ
breathed Spirit into my soul, do I look back and truly thank God for the times
I invested out of my comfort zone with a few trusted others. I recall being at
family events, especially, where everyone ‘got’ where I was at, but they were
useless (and felt useless) for knowing what to say or how to engage with me, a
normally larger-than-life kind of person, sedated by the loss that wrecked my
confidence.
Fortunately,
there was one cousin-in-law who somehow met me where I was at. That couple of
15-minute interactions I will never forget. She was just there for me.
If you’re
a helper, just be there. You don’t need any special words or skills, just a
heart of compassion that is willing to put yourself off for a short time,
completely focused on the grieving person in front of you.
Those
family events weren’t bad in and of themselves; they were hard because everyone
else’s lives were going along normally, and mine had been re-railed through a
momentary hell.
When
you’re grieving, everywhere you look there are reminders of what you’ve lost.
And people draw these out, because there are couples and children and happy
people everywhere, or so it seems. The heart loses sight for the things we’re
to be thankful for; we know they’re there, but the heart simply cannot feel
thankful, apart from fleeting glimpses that tease us into thinking we’re over
the grief. Of course, the grief recurs, again and again, ad infinitum!
Then
there are the majority of times we’re conscious when we cannot stand being by
ourselves. Yet, when all is said and done, and our meetings with others are over,
that’s where we find ourselves, again and again, ad infinitum; alone! Sure, we
can read our Bibles and encounter God, but in these times of enforced aloneness,
even time with God can truly seem overrated, and the suggestion to do same can
come across as a platitude. And yet, this is precisely the time when many of us
encountered God for the first time by His Presence.
In
grief, and this is sad but true, it’s normal to wish to be alone and, at the same
time, hate being by ourselves. Find and make time to share with empathetic comforters.
These kinds of people love to listen, and won’t find any of what you’ll share
boring, repetitive, unreasonable, silly or unkind. They will simply understand.
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