Friday, August 30, 2013

Embracing Grief



I have been reading Anne Lamott recently. In her reflections on grieving she states "...the lifelong fear of grief keeps us in a barren, isolated place...only grieving can heal grief; the passage of time will lessen the acuteness, but time alone, without the direct experience of grief, will not heal it." (Traveling Mercies)

Change is a constant in life--good, bad, and neutral. With each change, even good change, comes loss. That is why exciting events such as an engagement, a move to a new home, or the birth of a child end up high on the list of key stressors. Positive events, and certainly negative ones, all introduce stress and change, and grief because what once was, is no longer. After a recent move to a new home, a child told me that she preferred her old, small apartment. In the face of a big new house, she missed what was small and familiar. Even at a young age, she needs to grieve her losses while, at the same time, delighting in all that the new home has to offer.

Often we "...fall for the great palace lie that grief should be gotten over as quickly as possible and as privately." (Lamott). Or we ignore that we have indeed experienced loss and we distract ourselves with busyness, becoming preoccupied. Grief feels so out of control, so helpless, so interminable, so useless--and we seek to deny it, avoid it, and skip to the end.

Sometimes the weight of grief descends upon us, but often our tendency is to herd it into a compartment as quickly as possible and lock it away so that we can get on with life. But as Lamott so eloquently expresses it, we can end up in a "barren, isolated place," cut off from vital parts of ourselves and from the very comfort for which we so deeply long.

In addition to Ann Lamott, I have also been reading the Psalms. In the Lament Psalms, the Old Testament sages embrace their grief honestly and genuinely. They "cry and writhe and yell and then keep on crying….”   Sometimes their mourning gives way to hope, but sometimes, as in Psalm 88, they have to wait with darkness as their only companion.

Some of us know the grieving we have to walk through, others are still in denial. I know that, for myself, grieving means becoming vulnerable and acknowledging that I lost something or someone I cared for. Most importantly, it means trusting more in God and his love, and relying less on my ability to deny, minimize, repress, rationalize, and pretend.

A good way to begin healthy grieving is to make a list of losses you have experienced. Be detailed and specific. Ask a trusted confidant to add to your list--sometimes, in our denial, we can miss the obvious. Then pick a Lament Psalm--say Psalm 6 (or perhaps 22, 38, 88 or 102)--and rewrite it, inserting your own feelings and experiences. Then read it aloud. Cry, writhe, yell, and pray.
Grieving work is paradoxical. As another writer well acquainted with grief has put it, "The soul is elastic, like a balloon. It can grow larger through suffering. Loss can enlarge its capacity for anger, depression, despair, and anguish, all natural and legitimate emotions whenever we experience loss. Once enlarged, the soul is also capable of experiencing greater joy, strength, peace and love." (Jerry Sittser,A Grace Disguised).

As we allow ourselves to experience grief, not only do we grow emotionally and spiritually, but we can more easily walk with others who find themselves in similar places.  Our capacity for empathy, faithfulness, and love grows. And that is a very good thing.

Blessings,
Gene

1 comment:

  1. I don't know what or who you have grieved but I can tell you have grieved because you "get it." Thank you for the encouragement.

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