Will Today Bring a New Song?

"I waited patiently

 for the Lord

and he heard my cry...

He put a new song in my mouth." 

Psalm 40:1-3

Waiting is hard. My tears are real and they hurt. Sometimes I feel as if no one is listening. I feel all alone in my grief. Like the old spiritual that wails, "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen. Nobody knows my sorrow," I, too, wail as I wait. It does not feel good, but it is all I know to do on many days as I grieve.. and as I wait.

Wait for what? Wait for my situation to be reversed? Wait for explanation to the unexplainable? Wait for resolution? Restoration? Healing?

Maybe the key is in how we wait...

The psalmist waited patiently. Ah, patience.  A word that is more and more foreign to our self-reliant and self-confident nature.

Patience comes from the Latin word for suffering. Waiting is often referred to as long-suffering. Grievers can breathe a sigh of relief because that word explains the empty abandonment a griever can feel.

But maybe the other key is the One on whom we wait...

The psalmist waited "patiently for the Lord."

And what did the Lord do? He heard my cry! Did you hear that? The Lord heard my cry and then he "put a new song in my mouth."

Why does the Lord do that? Because we have placed our will under the will of God.We have turned to God and trusted Him with our grief. We have become less and allowed God to be more. We have learned to say like someone else said, "Not my will, but Thy will be done."

And then one by one, little melodic notes of a new song begin to chime in our hearts.

(adapted from Waiting on God by Andrew Murray, Day 14)

Deciding Who We Will Be This Thanksgiving

I start thinking about Thanksgiving on the first day of November. Who will be at my table and what delicious foods will be served.

But yesterday was All Saints Sunday. We remembered those we love who have left this life in the past year.  Their names were called as a candle was lit and the bell tolled. We remembered all of those people who have gone on in the past, giving thanks for their lives and their impact on our lives of faith. It is a day of remembrance. It is a day of hope. We face the future without them, but look to the day when we will see them again.

Being part of a service like this is reminder of our statement of faith. And a statement of faith is important to someone going through this process of grief. Because grief twists us and turns us in directions that make us writhe in pain, make us wonder, make us uncertain of who we are.

And we falter and become uncertain of what we truly believe.

And somewhere in our twisted, painful grief, we decide down in our soul who we will be.

And the heightened emotions around the holidays make it all more intense.

I think we have four choices:

We will hold fast to our faith and dig deeper to know God better. We experience a peaceful sort of joy in our sorrow. It is through our trust in Jesus Christ that the Holy Spirit can minister to us and help us through the difficulty of grief.

We will walk away from our faith, blaming God for not healing or protecting our loved one. We become cynical,bitter, and angry. But God never gives up trying to get our attention.

We will experience faith in Christ for the very first time. We start to grow in trust and love.Our priorities change and God begins to reveal himself to us more and more. We have found something to cling to that is real and eternal. We have hope.

We will decide to not decide, but stay on the fence, retreat and wonder, living an undecided life. We have heard the Good News of Christ, but just can't quite believe that Jesus died for us and has provided a way where death is not our final destiny.

Right now is a good time to decide who you will be in your grief. In  a few weeks, we will be sharing the Thanksgiving table with those we still have with us. Who will you be at that table? Will love and peace abound along with platters of food? Will gratitude be abundant?

It's your grief. You choose.

At A Loss For Words...

My friend told me she drove down my street, wanting to knock on my door to ask, "What do I do? What do I say to my friend who just lost her child?" She thought I would have some words, some advise to move her to action in a way that expressed her heartfelt grief. Because I had lost a child, she thought I would have lots of suggestions.

I hugged her and thanked her and confessed that I, too, am at a loss. My mind registers the knowledge, but my heart is presently breaking and simply cannot process this loss. Death shocks and we have a tendency to run away - escape our emotions, looking for air to breathe.

We search for the words or deeds that say, "I am sorry for your loss. I love you. If I could take away the pain, I would. I know I can't do that, but I offer this - my time, my casserole, my words of comfort, my willingness to run errands, clean the house, empty the dishwasher, bathe the dog, care for other family members, provide bedrooms for out of town guests, sort the mail, answer the telephone, make phonecalls, pray, refresh the plants, fill the birdfeeders, and all the while, feeling so utterly helpless." Why? Because death strikes a mighty blow and we temporarily lose our confidence.

When we lose our confidence, Jesus steps in to show us his own personal example of going to the bereaved. Jesus shows us how to grieve. Jesus shows us how to look beyond death. In the gospel of John, we are told a moving story about Mary and Martha who sent word to their dear friend, Jesus, that their brother Lazarus was sick. Jesus did not go to them immediately, but simply told those with him that the sickness would not end in death. And then Lazarus died. And after a very long four days, Jesus wept with Mary and Martha at the tomb. Then he had a poignant conversation with them. In John 11, Jesus reminded the sisters,"I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die." Then to prove his point of their conversation, Jesus first prayed, thanking God for the opportunity to show those observing that He truly was sent from God. Then, He did it. Jesus raised Lazarus from death to life. In front of their very eyes. And from his example, He is still teaching us today:

1. Go to the person who is grieving.

2. Weep with them.

3. Be the hands and feet of Jesus through compassionate care.

4. Pray, thanking God for the opportunity to share the Good News with others.

5. Rest in the words of Jesus who said, "I am the resurrection. Believe in me and live forever."
Since I believe all of the Bible is true, I am able to regain my confidence in these passages when I face the reality of death. And somehow, all the words and deeds done, carried out in love, become the hands and feet of Jesus, transformed into a beautiful thing called grace. Can we follow His lead?

Angels Watching Over Me

I was a creature of habit. After my daughter died, I would sit in my bedroom, facing the wall without Megan or her hospital bed. I would gaze at the collection of art still hanging above the place where she rested with us for 16 months. It somehow comforted me - those words: "He is making all things new," "God cares for you," and "For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all ways." I would probably cry some, and work hard to help my heart believe that the journey was now over. My loved one was no longer present. I would now have to look for the "new" God was making in me. I would have to trust in His care and believe that angels were guarding me. Could I trust like that?

It is a choice we must make when we are the one left behind. We cannot help but feel empty and alone. We cannot help but feel lost. That is normal and part of a process we do not want to face. Those first few weeks become a blur of trying to simply put one foot in front of another. We find ourselves spending much of our time alone with our grief. This is healthy for only we can experience this initial pain and shock of death. No one can do it for us. And postponing facing our grief by staying too busy will only prolong the healing.

But Faith is waiting to help us in our grief. I call it "God's Support Group of One." God does care for us. God is making all things new. God does command angels to guard us in our ways. Just sitting in God's presence alone is a great healer. The words of even the most well-meaning loved ones must wait for God himself to begin the healing in our souls.

In time - and you will know when the time is right - support groups offer further healing. It is helpful to find people who have had similar experiences and know how this grief truly feels. You probably won't want to go at first, but after the initial step, you discover the benefits. All wounded from some loss. All vulnerable to revisiting their pain. And yet, all discovering that as they revisit, remember and share their sorrow, healing begins its process.

Maybe one of the excellent online support groups listed below will help you on your journey. Begin with the personal faith and knowledge that God loves you. Then reach out and take someone's hand.

Open to Hope
Bereaved Parents USA
The Compassionate Friends
GriefShare

The Pounce of Grief

I love to watch my neighbor's cat guard the activity along a stone wall in my garden. He lounges in the sunshine, but don't think for a minute he isn't watching and waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting chipmunk or swat at a loitering butterfly. He creeps through the shrubs, making no noise, then in the blink of an eye he vanishes as quietly and quickly as he came.

In grief language, we call this being "ambushed." Grief, the internal experience of great loss, often lounges in our souls, quietly waits to make a move.  We will be going through our day - or moving through the years - thinking we are making progress. Grief pounces on our heart and we are overcome with a profound sense of loss.

Sometimes it happens when we cross an anniversary of our loved one. Sometimes it happens when we hear a certain song or see someone with similar features. Sometimes it happens when we participate in events for others like marriages and new babies and remember that we won't be having that experience. And many times, it just happens. Period.

The good news for grievers is like the prowling cat, profound grief doesn't hang around forever, but weaves itself in and out of our lives, never fully going away. Sometimes it's tangled and messy. Sometimes it lingers around looking for a vulnerable heart. That's okay. A vulnerable heart means it is beating to the tune of love and life. A vulnerable heart has loved greatly. A vulnerable heart can be compassionate to others. And then healing comes. Healing comes when the broken heart can take new steps to live without the one who was loved. Taking those new steps means we are moving.

Moving with hope. Moving with trust that we will find our way. Oh, God, show us the way.

An Offering of Grace

 "The tears...streamed down, 

and I let them flow as freely as they would, 

making of them a pillow for my heart...on them it rested."

Augustine

Confessions 1X,12

 The funeral is over. The relatives are gone.The flowers have been given away in small bunches. The remnants of cakes and casseroles are all that remain. There are piles of cards and letters...some are opened, some are waiting. You open your eyes and everything looks different. The world is a new color of gray and nothing feels right. And then you remember - it all comes flooding over you.

You try to remember what day it is. Everything seems too quiet. There is a hush in your home and in your heart.  You look outside and even the birds are silent on this day. But there is something inside of you that wants to hear the birds sing. There is something inside of you that strains to hear the faintest chirp. Anything that would bring you back to the way it was...before. When life was normal.

A few days after my daughter's service, I stood at the coffeepot next to my husband and waited for the coffee to brew. We stood there, watching the drip of the morning elixer and he whispered, "Would you like to go to the recycling center with me today?" I knew then we would survive. And I laughed that the mere thought of some task so utilitarian could be such an offering of grace.

It is the offering of grace we mourners so desire. It is the offering of grace that reaches down into our soul, soothes us, calms us with the simple tasks of daily life. I suppose they are different for each grief-stricken heart. But when hearts are linked together, the offering and the acceptance are always compatible. You know what I need. You offer. I accept:

                                      a visit on the front steps,
                                                        watching a child learn to ride a bicycle.
   
                                a hand-picked bouquet from your garden,
                                                      delivered hand-to-hand, eye-to-eye

                                             a linen handkerchief

                                                                    a note in the mailbox

Maybe your heart is linked to someone today who needs a simple offering of grace. Look around you. What will your offering be for the one whose heart is resting on a pillow of tears?

                                 



                     

How To Plan A Funeral

 Three days after the death of my daughter, we met at church for a memorial service for the one we loved. Many people came, friends and loved ones spoke and sang at the service. The choir sang and we tried to sing. Afterward, we gathered for a reception and greeted those who wished to stand in a long line. There was a beautiful display of food and flowers and pictures. It was a hard day, but a special day. A day of remembrance and worship and love.

Three days is not a very long time in which to put together a service for someone you love. You might have gotten sudden news and had to plan a service in total shock. You might not even remember it. That is normal but not at all fair. Death is never fair. I had to wait for the funeral to come to me. You see, I knew my daughter was dying. In fact, I planned her service at Christmas. Then it lingered toward Easter. And as summer blended into fall, it really happened.

I was still in shock. Death brings shock whenever it comes. We are never fully prepared. And we cannot think clearly. To this day, I cannot remember calling my family and best friends. But I can vividly remember stacks of paper plates and plastic cups appearing in my kitchen.I remember the bird feeder always being full. I remember everyone talking softly when all I wanted to do was scream.

My church was instrumental in leading us through those days. The church is a place where the needs of the heart are met. When my family could barely breathe, the church stepped in to plan, finalize, prepare, and serve us with love and compassion.

My friend in Colorado found herself planning a funeral unexpectedly. Afterward, she published a little book that everyone should have on the shelf, ready for that unexpected moment.

How to Plan a Funeral &Other Things You Need to Know When a Loved One Dies by Liz Cowen Furman

Beacon Hill Press
Buy the Book