Loose Ends * The Lamenting Edition

Four times a year, author / podcaster Emily {The Next Right Thing} Freeman invites her readers to share what they've learned the previous quarter.  I've long been an eager participant.  It's been all kinds of fun!

This time, not so much. 

For those of you new around here, this month's been all about grieving, about remembering Jessica, gone far too young at 33.  Sitting numb on the porch with my sister.  And talking together with you about how sorrow is a nebulous and elusive companion.


I thought about not writing this post. 

But then it hit me that this month has been filled with re-learning.  Re-calling.  Re-membering.  And re-claiming.  So much is out of our control.  BUT ...

1.  I can choose how to respond.  Just like the flight attendants say, when crisis hits, grab and securely fasten your own oxygen mask first so you can care for those around you.
-  Decide to take a bereavement sabbatical and immediately refer my counseling clients to a superb counselor.  Her name is Tracy and she's here and I'm so grateful.

-  Clear my calendar of obligations, invitations, opportunities.

-  The first week, reserve conversation for family alone.

-  Not surprisingly, everyone I connect with completely understands.  I'm blanketed with kindness, love, and a generous grace.  I'm freed up to be exactly where I am.  Numb.  Heart-sick.  Speechless.  Tearful.  Spent.

2.  I purposely surround myself with people who are warm and safe and loving.
-  I send texts and emails out to anyone and everyone I can think of to get them praying.

-  I choose to keep on blogging.

-  I soak in the lavish support and tender understanding that comes my way, whether in person, online, or via the mailbox.  As dear blogger Barbara so eloquently put it, 'Loss, while individually experienced, is commonly shared and understood. You have a circle of love all around you.'

-  After a week or so, I get in touch with my closest friends nearby and say, 'I really want to see you.  Please come visit me.'  And they do.  They come bearing food and hugs, brimming eyes and listening ears.

-  My arms are open to my family members ... my sister, her family, my mom, my girls, their families.  My husband.  Any hour.  Any day.

3.  I choose my therapy.
-  Lamenting and laughter are kissing cousins.  Odd, yet quite freeing to go there ... yet again and again.

-  Blogging my heart out.

-  Sitting with the Psalms, one verse at a time.

-  Praying without ceasing.  Yes, it is possible ... and necessary.

-  Doing a bit of journaling.

-  Endlessly processing with my husband.

-  Losing myself in books with hundreds and hundreds of pages.

-  Walking the beaches.

-  Napping under the quilt on the porch.

-  Signing up to go to a GriefShare group.

4.  I claim my manna each and every day.  Great is His faithfulness.  His love.  His mercy.  For when all is said and done, we're all in the same boat.  We're all grieving something or someone, aren't we ...


What are you re-learning these days?

And what loss are you lamenting?


 staying connected with these communities
Mary & Sue