Those Who Mourn

 

I’ve been thinking about grief—deep sorrow. We can grieve so many things: people we miss, beloved pets, lost opportunities. Recently I was with a friend as she said goodbye to her canine companion of twelve years. I saw how hard it was for her to physically let go of her sweet little Maggie even after the dog grew still and unresponsive. Some of you understand the deep sorrow surrounding that loss.

Just a little over a year ago, during the first week of June, my family met on a mountaintop in West Virginia to say a formal goodbye to my dear brother. We lost him—or he went on before us to glory—in late 2020 during the height of the Covid epidemic. This June as I picked sweet peas from my backyard plants, I thought, The last time I picked these peas, we were on our way to Steven’s memorial. Last time these lilies bloomed, I was planning what to say at my brother’s service.

So many things remind us of our losses, and that is normal—even healthy, I think. The commonly acknowledged list of the stages of grief ends with acceptance.  Even though I feel I may never be able to accept some loss, I do learn to live with it, and perhaps that is a kind of acceptance.  We don’t “get over” our losses, but we do begin to see them as part of the formation of our lives.

In his book titled A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis notes that “the death of a beloved is an amputation.” He goes on to say that one learns to get on without the missing limb—a leg, say. One learns to get about with crutches or with an artificial leg. Of his own grief, Lewis says, “Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again.” He recognizes that life will never be the same.

Jesus said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” I have heard this entire passage completely spiritualized and applied only to grieving over sin, and I’m sure that is a valid application. But I am convinced that Jesus was also talking about other kinds of grief. When we mourn, we experience the sweetness of a hug in a different way. We treasure the friend who sits by or who carries us a cup of tea, who brings a plate of sandwiches or feeds the cat. In the midst of grief, details of life feel overwhelming, and what a blessing to find that there are those who love us enough to take care of those details.

God’s presence can be sweeter during sorrow than at any other time. I know why people send flowers to funerals or to cheer one another during hard times. The beauty of a flower or the simplicity of birdsong can be a balm, a reminder that God has built hope into our world and a preview of a world to come.

I was privileged to speak to the graduates of GBA at the 2020 graduation ceremony, and I said to them what we all know: We will eventually have new buildings to enjoy on our campus, but it will never be the same. This is what we accept. And then we look forward to what is to come. We have a gratefulness for the sweet memories we shared, an appreciation for the life and time we have left, and a determination to live for as long as God gives us in a way that is pleasing to him.

--Sherry Poff