How to Help Those that are Grieving at the Holidays by Karen Ehman

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     The Lord has been so gracious to bring to me helpful thoughts and suggestions from others who have or are walking the path of grief.  Today, a good devotion was shared with me and below is an excerpt from it that I pray will be helpful to you, too.  

             Shared in love,

                              Cris

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How to Help Those that are Grieving at the Holidays

by Karen Ehman


       Here are some points about grief to keep in mind as you interact with those who are sick at heart:

       G—Give them space. Don't expect them to bounce right back after a few weeks and act like their old selves. The grief process takes a long time, and people will continue to miss a loved one until the day they die. Be consistent in reaching out to them, including them, and showing them love. Do not be offended if they don't consistently act like their old selves. They need a little space and a lot of time.

       R—Remember their loved one out loud. Don't be afraid to speak of the one who has passed away or their loved one who is suffering from a disease. It usually makes it worse when no one will mention the name of the deceased. When you feel it is appropriate, talk about their loved one, mentioning a happy memory or funny story or one of their character qualities. Keep their memory alive in your conversations. A friend who lost his son in the Iraq war once told me, "Don't be afraid to speak his name. Speaking his name doesn't remind me that my son died. I know he died. Speaking his name reminds me that you remember that he lived."

       I—Invite them along. Even though the grieving need space, they still need to know that you want to include them in your activities. Make it a point to invite them out to lunch or to take in a movie or show. Ask them to take in a sporting event or a concert. Don't be offended if they aren't up to going. Just keep inviting them, so they know you care.

       E—Etch important dates on your calendar. Holidays and other special dates are especially hard the first few years—Christmas, birthdays, Mother's or Father's Day. Make plans to reach out to the grieving on these difficult occasions. Did your friends lose their son in his senior year of high school? Make sure to send a thoughtful card during graduation time in the spring, letting them know you are praying for them. Did your neighbor lose her husband to a heart attack? Find out their wedding anniversary and offer to take your neighbor out for coffee or lunch. One of my favorite ideas was when my young boys took flowers to a sweet older widow we called Grandma Alma on what would have been her wedding anniversary. We told her that since Grandpa Don was busy in heaven, he had us deliver the love that day.

       F—Frame a favorite picture. Print a photo of the person and their loved one who is now gone. It is a simple gift but one that will be appreciated. When my sister-in-law passed away, my friend Mandy purchased a small Christmas ornament that framed a picture of my sister-in-law. Each Christmas when we hang it on the tree, I fondly remember not only my relative but my thoughtful friend.

       This year, use the holidays as an excuse to better the life of someone who is grieving and shine the light of Christ as you do.

Merry Christmas
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For more information or resources, here is Karen's blog link:
http://www.karenehman.com/blog/

But You Still Have Me

        Years before Momma became sick with her fatal illness, she and I were talking about her childhood.  Momma was the oldest of five children and her parents buried three of those children as infants; only Momma and her youngest sister lived to adulthood.

       Momma told me that she could remember when the first one, her baby brother, died and how devastated her parents were, how her mother screamed and cried over the death of that baby.  Momma, who was only four at the time of her brother's death, told me that she herself was so scared and how it hurt her to see her mother cry.  She told me that she went to her mother and told her, "You still have me." 

       Momma then told me that she didn't understand at the time that her mother knew she still had her, but that didn't ease the hurt of burying the baby.

       I didn't think much more about that story until my own brother died suddenly of a blood clot to the lungs when he was only 53.  His death affected Momma differently than the deaths of any of the other loved ones that she had had to bury.  And seeing her grieve and cry tore me apart and made me feel so helpless.  In my own clumsy attempt to get her focus off of her dead son, I said to her as lovingly as I could, "I know you are hurting, Momma, but you still have me, Chuck, and Doug." 

       The empty look she gave me at that moment told me that it didn't make any difference if she still a dozen children: she was burying her child, she was burying a part of her own heart and being.  

       I have experience the death of many people that I love: my Daddy, whom I adored, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, my brother.  But I still had Momma and somehow that always gave me a connection to those deceased loved ones.  And having the privilege of caring for Momma in our home matured the relationship she and I had.  So it wasn't until I was standing beside Momma's lifeless body, then - only then - did I understand the depths of the hurt and grief Grandma and Momma had experienced.  It was then that my own dear husband and my family kept trying to remind me that I still had them, I still had people that loved me.  But it didn't help, it didn't matter: my Mother - the one person who had always been in my life, the one person that I always knew loved me unconditionally and would never, never turn me away - that person was dead and I was sitting in the ashes of the life I had always known and there was nothing that I could see but ruin.  

       And those kind words: "But you still have me" meant nothing to me at that moment, just as they meant nothing to Grandma when Momma said them, and nothing to Momma when I said them.  

       Having now experienced this from both sides, I think the Lord Jesus has taught me two things:

              First, if you are the one sitting in the ashes and someone who loves you tells you that you still have them, please know that it is not meant to diminish the relationship you had with the deceased loved one.  Nor is it meant to tell you to not grieve.  Understand that the person saying it is concerned about your well-being and needing you to know that you still have something to live for.

              Second, if you are the person sitting next to the one grieving, know that when you say that, they are too emotionally raw to grasp the full import of your words.  They are hurting and may not understand that you love them and your concern for them is real.  If they say nothing or get angry and lash out, don't take it as an attack on you.  Just accept that they are hurting beyond anything they know how to handle.  They need to hear you say it, but it may not penetrate the screaming of the pain until later.  So go ahead and tell them as lovingly and gently as you can, "I know you're hurting, but you still have me."  And then just as lovingly remind them, "... And I still need you."

       Shared in love, 

                                   Cris

 Free clipart from Doverclipart

"OPTION B" Helpful thoughts gleaned from Sandberg and Grant's book

       After my Mother's funeral, I sank into a deep depression and encountered tremendous stress as a result of being the executrix of Mom's estate.  My niece, Stephanie Hanks, attended a seminar at her church in which Sheryl Sandberg's story was shared.  Sheryl had experienced the sudden and unexpected death of her husband and she shared her own journey through grief and starting life over.  

       Stephanie sent me a copy of Sandberg's book, Option B, with the hope it would help me.  It has taken me a while to get through the book because my own grief was overwhelming.  However, I did finish it and wanted to share my review.

       Sheryl Sandberg is a gifted and experienced speaker and at the time of her writing this book was the chief operating officer at Facebook.  Though the book is not written from a Christian perspective, it is not totally secular either.  

       The author is open and honest about her own experience with grief, how she handled and didn't handle it, and how it affected her and her two children, both of which were pre-teen when their father died.  The title of the book comes from a comment made to her by a close friend shortly after the death of her husband.  The friend told her, "Option A is not available.  So let's just kick ... Option B."

       The book is real truths told mostly through personal experiences of the author, her family, and her friend.  Perhaps the author's goal was to show by example that others have survived and become stronger so you can, too.  For me, all the stories became emotionally weighty and hard to go through.  I found myself skimming through them.

       However, there were several things that the author shared that were noteworthy for me:

                     "No one ever told me," C.S.Lewis wrote, "that grief feels so like fear." ...  The fear is constant and it felt like the grief would never subside.  [Sheryl Sandberg,]

                     "We plant the seeds of resilience in the ways we process negative events.    ...psychologist Martin Seligman found that three P's can stunt recovery:  (1) pervasiveness - the belief that we are at fault; (2) pervasiveness - the belief that an event will affect all areas of our life; and (3) permanence - the belief that the aftershocks of the event will last forever." 

                     "Aging, sickness, and loss are inevitable.  And while life includes some joyful moments, despite our attempts to make them last, they too will dissolve."

                     "Avoiding feelings isn't the same as protecting feelings."

                     "... [the person] dies a second time when no one speaks their name."

                     "Anna Quindlen puts it more poetically.  ‘Grief,' she writes, is ‘a whisper in the world and a clamor within.' " 

                     "There is an elephant in the room. ...  Instead of making assumptions about whether or not someone wants to talk, it's best to offer an opening and see if they take it.   ... Death is not the only kind of adversity that summons the elephant.  Anything that reminds us of the possibility of loss can leave us at a loss for words. ...    Speaking with empathy and honesty is a good place to start.  You can't wish the elephant away, but you can say, ‘I see it.  I see you're suffering.  And I care about you.'  " 

                     "There are two different emotional responses to the pain of others: empathy, which motivates us to help, and distress, which motivates us to avoid." 

                     "For friends who turn away in times of difficulty, putting distance between themselves and emotional pain feels like self-preservation." 

"... caring means that when someone is hurting, you cannot imagine being anywhere else." 

                     "It's hard to understand - or even imagine - another person's pain."  

                     "Specific acts help because instead of trying to fix the problem, they address the damage caused by the problem." 

"... friendship isn't only what you can give, it's what you're able to receive."

                     "... five stages of grief ... denial, ... anger, ... bargaining ... depression, ... acceptance. ... They are five stages that don't progress in a linear fashion but rise and fall.  Grief and anger aren't extinguished like flames doused with water.  They can flicker away one moment and burn hot the next." 

                     "Everyone makes mistakes. ... Self-compassion comes from recognizing that our imperfections are part of being human. ... those who were kind to themselves showed significant declines in symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). ... self-compassion often coexists with remorse. ,,, Self-confidence is critical to happiness and success.  When we lack it, we dwell on our flaws. ..."

                     "... trauma can also lead to self-doubt in all aspects of our lives.  This loss of confidence is another symptom of pervasiveness: we are struggling in one area and suddenly we stop believing in our capabilities in other areas.  Primary loss triggers secondary losses." 

                     "... gratitude is passive: it makes us feel thankful or what we received.  Contributions are active: they build our confidence by reminding us that we can make a difference." 

                     "Empathy was nice but encouragement was better."

                     "A traumatic experience is a seismic event that shakes our belief in a just world, robbing us of the sense that life is controllable, predictable, and meaningful." 

                     "Tragedy does more than rip away our present; it also tears apart our hopes for our future."

                     "Building resilience depends on the opportunities children have and the relationships they form with parents, caregivers, teachers, and friends.  We can start by helping children develop four core beliefs: (1) they have some control over their lives; (2) they can learn from failure; (3) they matter as human beings; and (4) they have real strengths to rely on and share. ... For children, it often takes adults to show them that they matter. ..."

       Perhaps where you are in your journey with broken-ness, loss, or grief, you will glean even more from Option B.  

       Shared in love,

                 Cris 

Time Doesn't Heal .....

Photo courtesy of Doc Watson

          After Momma's funeral, I sank into a horribly low valley of grief, fear, and heartache. On several different occasions, a friend or a family member would try to comfort me by saying, "You'll be alright. It just takes time." When I heard that, I would force a smile but inside I screamed, "You don't understand how broken my heart is! There isn't enough time in all eternity to take away this hurt!!" 

          Grief is to the spirit and heart what a broken bone is to the physical body. It's real and the pain of it is real, too. The day after the funeral, someone asked how I was doing and I immediately replied, "Grief is like walking barefoot on broken glass: you have to keep moving, but it cuts deep, it hurts, and you bleed." That was truly how I felt; the raw ache in my chest was that real. 

          I heard a Christian evangelist says that time doesn't heal, but time does reveal how Jesus heals. That I understand. Time itself can do nothing, just as a doctor setting a broken bone cannot make the bone heal. It takes the Good Physician, Jesus, to heal both. 

          I walked away from Momma's grave side a different person; I limped with the pain of losing the sweetest, most caring person I have ever known. The days then became weeks, and the weeks months as I set about settling Momma's estate and establishing a new "normal" way of life without her in it. The work on Momma's house was good therapy for me as it kept me busy and doing something needful and constructive. Gradually, the uncontrollable sobbing became less and less, I began sleeping at night without the use of medication, and I started functioning better.

          And like a broken bone that was given proper support and care, my heart and spirit have begun to heal. I understand that I have no choice but to survive this. And I accept that life is different and will never be like it was before Momma's homegoing. I realize that now my heart and life are scarred from the brokenness just as that bone forever bears a scar where the break was. But I have seen that with the grace of the Lord, the healing does happen. 

          It truly does just takes time: time for the healing work of Jesus to be revealed.

          Shared in love, 


                          Cris 

Courtesy of Dover Free Clipart

Jesus' Tears Give You Permission to Shed Your Own,by Max Lucado, from his book "Hope"

This excerpt from Max Lucado's book Hope deals with grief and tears.  It spoke directly to my heart and I hope it helps you, too.

                            Cris 

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Though we don’t understand His actions, 

we can trust His heart. — Max Lucado

Martha sat in a damp world, cloudy, tearful. And Jesus sat in it with her.

I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in Me, even though they die like everyone else, will live again. — John 11:25 NLT

Hear those words in a Superman tone, if you like. Clark Kent descending from nowhere, ripping shirt and popping buttons to reveal the S beneath. “I AM the Resurrection and the Life!!!” Do you see a Savior with Terminator tenderness bypassing the tears of Martha and Mary and, in doing so, telling them and all grievers to buck up and trust?

I don’t. I don’t because of what Jesus does next.

He weeps.

He sits on the pew between Mary and Martha, puts an arm around each, and sobs. Among the three, a tsunami of sorrow is stirred; a monsoon of tears is released. Tears that reduce to streaks the watercolor conceptions of a cavalier Christ. Jesus weeps.

He weeps with them. He weeps for them. He weeps with you. He weeps for you.

He weeps so we will know: Mourning is not disbelieving [emphasis added]. Flooded eyes don’t represent a faithless heart. A person can enter a cemetery Jesus-certain of life after death and still have a Twin Tower crater in the heart. Christ did. He wept, and He knew He was ten minutes from seeing a living Lazarus!

And His tears give you permission to shed your own. Grief does not mean you don’t trust; it simply means you can’t stand the thought of another day without the Jacob or Lazarus of your life. If Jesus gave the love, He understands the tears. So grieve, but don’t grieve like those who don’t know the rest of this story.

— Next Door Savior
    .......
Are you passing through the same shadow? Is this book being held by the same hands that touched the cold face of a friend? And the eyes that fall upon this page, have they also fallen upon the breathless figure of a husband, wife, or child? Are you passing through the valley? If not, [these thoughts] may seem unnecessary. Feel free to move on — [they] will be here when you need [them].

If so, however, you know that the black bag of sorrow is hard to bear.

It’s hard to bear because not everyone understands your grief. They did at first. They did at the funeral. They did at the graveside. But they don’t now; they don’t understand. Grief lingers.

As silently as a cloud slides between you and the afternoon sun, memories drift between you and joy, leaving you in a chilly shadow. No warning. No notice. Just a whiff of the cologne he wore or a verse of the song she loved, and you are saying good-bye all over again.

Why won’t the sorrow leave you alone?

Because you buried more than a person. You buried some of yourself. Wasn’t it John Donne who said, “Any man’s death diminishes me”? It’s as if the human race resides on a huge trampoline. The movements of one can be felt by all. And the closer the relationship, the more profound the exit. When someone you love dies, it affects you…

Why does grief linger? Because you are dealing with more than memories — you are dealing with unlived tomorrows. You’re not just battling sorrow — you’re battling disappointment. You’re also battling anger.

It may be on the surface. It may be subterranean. It may be a flame. It may be a blowtorch. But anger lives in sorrow’s house. Anger at self. Anger at life. Anger at the military or the hospital or the highway system. But most of all, anger at God. Anger that takes the form of the three-letter question — why? Why him? Why her? Why now? Why us?

You and I both know I can’t answer that question. Only God knows the reasons behind His actions. But here is a key truth on which we can stand.

Our God is a good God.

You are good, Lord. The Lord is good and right. — Psalm 25:7-8 NCV

Taste and see that the Lord is good. — Psalm 34:8 NIV

God is a good God.   We must begin here. [Emphasis added]  Though we don’t understand His actions, we can trust His heart.

— 

Excerpted ..... from Hope (selections from Max Lucado’s writings) 

by Max Lucado, copyright Max Lucado, as shared on the daily e-devotional FaithGateway Today

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An Offer of Help

Free Clipart from Dover Publishing

     The mother of my sister-in-law, Tina, passed away last month.  She had been diagnosed with Alzheimers about 9 years ago and had been hospitalized most of that time.  Alzhemers is a hard illness and is stressful and emotional on the family.  Overall, Tina and her siblings handled it well.  Still, the passing of Mother is hard.  

     Tina was the "hands on" one who took care of the day-to-day needs of both her father and mother until each of them passed.  So handling her mother's funeral arrangements was naturally left to her to do, which she did with the same love, respect, and devotion that she gave her mother while she was alive.

     Having handled everything for my own mother and her funeral, I knew what Tina was having to deal with and offered to help.  But with her usual smile, she just said, "Thanks, but I've got this."  At first I felt a bit hurt but I also knew that I needed to respect her wishes in the situation.  So my husband and I took her and my brother a meal for after the family visitation, but backed away from anything else.  

     At times of grief and mourning, people come to you and want to help ease your pain.  They offer kindnesses and try to give you words of comfort.  I have realized in going through Momma's funeral and now being on the other side with Tina's mother's funeral, the offers to help not only helps you but also help the person making the offer.  By doing something – no matter how seemingly insignificant it may seem to you – it allows the person to be a part of what is going on and also gives them comfort, too.

     The day my own Momma died, I had been at the hospital with her around the clock for 4 days and had little sleep.  In the days that followed, I still couldn't sleep and truthfully was running on emotion and adrenalin.  The funeral had to be arranged, decisions had to be made, and I was the one that had to handle it all.  My brothers were there but the decisions were left to me.  Looking back on it, truthfully I wasn't in any condition to handle that level of responsibility and some of the decisions I made weren't the best ones.  I made mistakes and caused hurt feelings even though I tried so hard to do things right.

     Something the Lord has shown me through my grief is when someone cares enough to offer to help, let them.  If they offer to bring food, accept it with a smile and a hug.  If they offer to run an errand for you, if at all possible, let them do it.  A burden shared is half the load, and it lets others work through their grief, too.

     Grief is natural and is supposed to be there.  We need to realize that it isn't a lack of faith to cry and grieve and need help sometimes.  We don't have to put on a brave face and be stoic.  We just need to be real.

     Grief is also a path that we walk and that path can be rough.  But we don't have to walk it alone.  The Lord puts good people at special places along the way to give us a hand, get under the load with us, and to give us a smile and a hug that helps get us through.  He knows what we need and when we need it.  

     Most of important of all, Jesus promises to never leave us and never forsake us.  And He keeps His promises.

     Shared in love,

                     Cris 


A Couple of Personal Notes: 

          When Momma died, a friend from church offered to bring us a meal.  My husband thanked her but graciously declined the offer.  I found out later that she was hurt by not being able to bring the meal.  It was true that we had plenty of food, but I wish we had accepted the offer and allowed her to bring the meal anyway.  We could have shared it with someone else if we didn't have room in the fridge for it but more importantly, it would have allowed her to do for us.

     Also, I had several people offer to do anything I needed them to do.  Looking back on it, I wish I had handed one of them Momma's address book and asked them to call everyone in it and give them the funeral arrangements.  I didn't think to do that and a couple of dear ladies that had known Momma a long time didn't know about her passing until months later.  When they did find out, they were both hurt.  I regretted it.  

     Let others help.  You need it and they do, too.

The Sun Will Come Up Tomorrow, and Life Will Go On

            My older brother, Bill, died suddenly of a blood clot to the lung.  It devastated Momma, not only having to bury her child but it grieved her that she wasn't there and she didn't get to kiss him and tell him good-by.  

           A couple of months after Bill's funeral, I went with Momma to see her cancer doctor for a routine check-up.  This particular doctor was one of those genuinely kind and caring physicians and when he asked Momma how she was doing, she began to cry.  Then she told him about Bill dying and how she missed her son.  

The doctor gently took her face in his hands and looked directly at her.  Then he said, "You love him.  You will always love him.  So you get up every morning, you think about him and you have yourself a good, hard cry.  Then you get up, you wash your face, and you go on with your day."

        It was tremendous advice and was undoubtedly shared from the doctor's own personal experience and broken heart.  In the years that followed, I saw Momma do that and it helped her continue on.

        When you bury someone that you love with all your heart and you're in the blackness of grief, you know that life will never be the same ever again.  You feel like you are in the darkest midnight possible and that you will never again see the light of day.  And even though you don't want to even think about it, the reality is that the sun does come up tomorrow and life does go on.  

       And, yes, we go on without that loved one.  Truthfully, most days we go on only because the Lord is holding us, carrying us through each moment.  We don't have the strength to go on ourselves and He doesn't expect us to.  The Bible says in Psalm 46:1 " God is our refuge and strength, ..."

      Jesus wants us to press in hard to Him, let Him hold us and heal us.  He knows our pain, He knows our grief, and He loves us with an everlasting love.  He wants us to cry out to Him in the midst of our sorrow and He is always near to comfort us.

      Grief is the other side of love.  It also reminds us of how precious that person was to us and keeps their memory tender.  Grief was never meant to destroy us, but it will if we let it.  Like any other hardship in life, it can make us better or bitter depending on how we choose to respond to it.  

The sun will come up tomorrow and life will go on.  

So we remember our loved one and we have a good cry.  Then we get up and hold God's hand as we go on into our day.

      Shared in love,

                             Cris 

A Prayer for The One Who Is Left

     My Grandmother said once that the one who lives the longest will bury the most, and carry the heaviest burden of grief.  I understand that more and more as the Lord removes people that I love from my life.  

     A short prayer written by an unknown author was shared with me after Momma's homegoing.  It is poignant and right to the heart of how I have felt so often while dealing with Momma's absence.  I find myself praying to the Lord to help me see the meaning of my faith and the reason I am still here on this earth.  

     God's ways are not our ways.  And there are things we will not understand this side of Heaven.  And until we are there with Him, we can only trust His heart.

     Shared in love,

                    Cris 

* * *

A Prayer For The One Who Is Left

     Lord, the trouble about life just now is that I seem to have all things which don't matter, and to have lost all the things which do matter.

     I have life;
     I have enough money to live on; 
     I have plenty to occupy me;
     but I feel so alone, and sometimes it seems that nothing can make up for that.

     Lord, compel me to see the meaning of my faith.  

     Make me to realize ...

that I have a hope as well as a memory, and

the unseen cloud of witnesses is around me:

that You meant it when You said that

You would always be with me;

and make me to realize that as long as You leave

me here there is something that I am meant

to do; and in doing it, help me to find the

comfort and the courage that I need to go on.

     In Jesus' name, 
                   Amen.

Our letter to Michael ....

    Our nephew, Michael, died February 8, 2019.  We didn't know his depression was so deep and that he had gone back to drinking.  Grief is grief - regardless of what causes it.  And we grieve Michael.

     In working through his own grief, my husband wrote this letter to Michael.  I share it here to honor our nephew's memory and our love for him ... and to work through the grief.

Dear Michael,

     You took your life from us much too soon – for these brief twenty-five years went by much too fast.

     We will miss your smile, the laughter, and even your silliness.  But know this: your presence will be gravely missed because we loved you with unconditional and never-ending love.

     Your life brought us much joy and pride, along with some disappointments – but that's life.

     Our world is made a lesser place without you in it.  We will not see you meet the love of your life or have a family to call your own.  And for us that is perhaps the greatest tragedy of all.

     Know this, Son: when we visit the fond memories of you ... and that will be often ... as we shed a tear we will call out your name "MICHAEL WAYNE WATSON" to let you know you will never ever be forgotten.  You have earned a special place in our hearts for all eternity.

     Now you must sleep the eternal sleep and until we meet again (and we will) know that you were and always will be deeply loved and you will be forever missed.

                      With our unconditional love,

                      Uncle Wayne and Auntie

It's OK to not be OK

"...they saw that his grief was very great."

                                                                      Job 2:13

     When you bury someone that you love with all of your heart, grief dominates you.  It is such a strong emotion that it darkens every aspect of your life and your emotions.  When you have responsibilities and others that depend on you, a part of you tries to respond to their needs and get up and function.  But the other part of you screams "I don't care!" and you just pull the covers over your head and lay there and cry.  You then feel like the worse person, the weakest Christian, that ever was.

     During one of my worse screaming and crying times, my husband came into the bedroom, laid down beside me and held me.  After a while I stopped sobbing and he gently said, "You're not OK right now.  But that's OK."

     That simple statement helped me realize that what I was experiencing was natural, normal, and actually to be expected.  Being told that it was OK to not be OK right then reminded me that I was human, and I was hurting – but most important, that it was OK to not be OK because of what I was going through.

     We are only human, mere flesh and bone.  Grief over loss isn't a lack of faith in God, it is the human response to the other side of the strongest emotion we have: love.  When we love someone, their absence evokes grief.  The stronger the love relationship, the deeper the grief.

     The Bible says in Isaiah 53:3 that Jesus is a man of sorrows and is acquainted with our grief.  And the shortest verse in the Bible (John 11:35) simply says, "Jesus wept" and that weeping was at a funeral.

     The Lord knows the depths of our hurt because He has been there.  And He isn't afraid to go there with us!  Sometimes He speaks through someone close as my husband did to me saying that it's OK and sometimes He speaks into our spirit, "Peace, be still".  Jesus loves us and wants us to know that we are not alone.  He wants us to know that He knows!  

     And that it's OK to not be OK while we heal.

     Shared in love,

                              Cris

Grief and Reality

      Before my Mom died, I had experienced grief: the death of my grandparents and great-grand-parents, aunts and uncles, cousins, my older brother, and my Dad who I totally adored.

       And though I grieved for each of them, it wasn't at all the intensity that I have felt since Mom's homegoing to Heaven.  This grief has been so totally overwhelming that the pain has been actually physical and there were times when I could not even breath.  

     In trying to understand grief, I have come to realize that with Mom still living I had a link through her to the other people that I love that have gone on.  She knew all of them and talking with her kept me attached to them, especially Daddy.  So my grief for Daddy was always softened by having Momma who loved him and talked with me about him.  Somehow that kept the pain of loss from being so acute.   

     But when Momma died, I lost all of that and for the first time in my life, I felt totally alone - even though my good husband was always at my side, I still felt, ... well, ... abandoned.  

     And the entire family dynamic changed and in a way it came apart.  Momma was not only my link to those other family members who had gone on before us but she was also the anchor to our family.  She was the one that all of us came back to, that we wanted to be with.  With her no longer here, my brothers have both gone on back to their lives and are OK with going forward without her.  But I don't seem to be able to do that.  

     Not only was I closer to Momma being the only daughter, but she stayed in our home 24/7 for the last 7 and ½ years of her life.  She allowed me to care for her and she spent her last days with me.  It was the best part of my life.  So when she was no longer here, I was the one that was left with a gaping hole in my heart, my home, and my routine.  And as good as my husband was to her and still is to me, it's not the same without her.

      And the grief overwhelmed me like a Tsumani: it hit me hard and sucked the very life out of my being.  Those first few weeks I only functioned on adrenaline, and all I could do was function.  The family basically left the final funeral decision making to me since I had been the one taking care of everything for Momma.  I had to make decisions while I wasn't even able to think straight.  And I realize later that all of the decisions I made weren't the right ones – I dropped the ball on some things and I made mistakes.  Oh, my family was kind and understanding, but it still hurts me to look back and see how badly I handled those decisions.  That has been a burden almost too hard to carry some days, too.

     I know now that there was nothing that prepared me for any of this even though I had excellent examples lived out before me.  Reality is always so much more harsh than what is imagined the experience would be like.  Reality can be cruel.

     And grief gives you a different view of life and relationships, of what is important and what is just superficial.  

     Grief makes you grow up.

     Shared in love, 
                    Cris