“I may be veiled, but I’m in this pain.”
My friend and co-worker, Joanie, knows a lot about navigating grief. Her father died when she was a young teen. Less than 40 years later, she was widowed.
For several years, Joanie has facilitated grief support groups, taught grief workshops and has helped numerous people catch a glimpse of light as they seek to find their way through the dark night of grief.
Like many I’ve met who’ve trudged through deep loss, Joanie lives life fully, loves those around her extravagantly, and walks through her days with great intentionality. My friend embraces what she teaches:
Pain is inevitable.
Misery is optional.
Joanie introduced me to an outstanding book. In A Grace Disguised, Dr. Jerry Sittser shares the story of his family tragedy with authenticity, tenderness and wisdom.
Recently, I walked and talked with a dear woman whose grief is raw and deep. “My husband and I cry every day,” she told me. I cannot comprehend this woman’s pain. I have no great wisdom to give, but I asked her if I could bless her with a copy of Dr. Sittser’s book.
I realize one book is not a magic wand. Dealing with significant loss and grief is a process—one faltering footstep following another through the fog. The journey of others, however, validates the pain of the passage, and may encourage the one grieving that even though the dark fog is real, the light of grace—now veiled—exists and will keep shining through.
If you’re traveling through a season of loss, I’m praying,
God of comfort,
May the light of your grace guide my grief-filled friend to a new place;
A place overflowing with hope and joy and purpose;
A place where memories are filled with more sweetness than bitterness;
A place full of more laughter than tears;
A place where grace shines brightly,
where compassion and mercy are felt fully;
To that place where grace has never left and always will be.
Blessings to you…