A Time to Grieve
The burst of sadness came the other day, and I felt the weight of it. I recognized the pain, for I, like many others are not unfamiliar with grief.
We know a collective grief these days, living on our earth which has been ravaged by fire, and this has been a reality we have seen and felt and breathed. And we are distinctly aware that others around the world are also facing fire, flood, hurricanes, earthquake and war. So much sadness. So much to pray for.
We’ve borne witness to those who are evacuated, those who have lost everything to fire, those who are suffering with Covid, and the deep exhaustion of our helpers in healthcare, firefighters, and those in leadership making difficult decisions.
I think what has grieved me even more is the great divide that is affecting relationships, friendships and families.
I wrote this earlier this week as I sat with my tears. I’ve come to know that grief cannot be ignored. It is a way of acknowledging loss, the deep loss of a loved one, but also the loss of our hopes and dreams, the things we hold dear.
Sadness
permeates the soul;
Weariness colours
the inner landscape
like the smouldering ruins
of fire.
Grief over what has been lost,
over seemingly broken relationships
a chasm of differences.
Grief over the
exhaustion of healthcare friends
giving their all when there seems no end.
Grief over the
unrelenting pandemic.
Grief for those whom have died,
for those so very sick
and for the families who care for them.
Grief over lost memories,
times to gather
and rifts that seem too large to heal.
Lord, have mercy.
What heals the pain of grief, alleviates the sadness?
Shakespeare wrote, a grief shared is a grief halved. How true that is, I really don’t know, but what I do know is that isolation is not helpful, although that is often how we respond.
Others respond with anger, or intense busyness, or drugs of choice to numb the pain.
When we find safe places to unburden our sorrow, it can diminish the pain. Grief doesn’t have an instant fix, as I’ve learned over the years.
As we live with sadness, we also choose to live. I can make soup and share it, I can go for a walk and absorb the beauty of creation, I can listen to the healing gift of music. And I’ve discovered, there will be a moment to laugh, a spurt of joy, and always, yes, always, there is the gift of hope, even in the midst of despair.
“Praise be to the Father of compassion, and the God of comfort; who comforts us in all our troubles, so we can comfort those in any trouble, with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
eye of compassion
