Sunday, October 23, 2016

Expressing Grief




We express grief in different ways. We either cry openly, weep alone, or show little or no emotion. We may collapse, become hysterical, or give others the impression we’re doing ­well even if we’re not.

When my friend Judie had cancer, women from her church drove her seventy miles for radiation treatments. She shared about her grief: “I remember lying on the sofa, crying as I waited for someone to pick me up. When it was time to leave, I’d dry my eyes, wash up, put a smile on my face, and go out that door. I tried not to burden the women with my ­grief.”

Waves of sorrow, guilt, regrets, and remorse wash over us. “A wave of grief occurs when we become aware of the deep emptiness in ourselves resulting from a loss. . . . This mixture of feelings and physical reactions is called waves because, like waves along the seashore, they come with varied frequency and power.”3

Mourning drains our energy, makes us more susceptible to illness, and increases our stress. We overeat or are unable to eat at all. We may be overcome by inner turmoil, emotional and mental conflicts, and irrational fears, especially of death. We feel as if we’re drowning as we struggle to reach the surface and survive our ­grief.

Sorrow can cause such confusion that we don’t know what we need to do or how to make rational decisions. We don’t even realize that we’re not functioning well. I thought I was handling my normal duties fine after Ron had heart surgery. Later when I prepared to have our taxes done, I discovered that during the time of his surgery and several months of recovery, our check register ­didn’t make sense. I’d made all kinds of mistakes and written checks incorrectly, and our financial records were a ­mess.

When Ron passed away many years later, I felt lost, shut down, and barely functioned. Because Ron had dementia, went suddenly blind, and was in extreme pain I was relieved he was now free and home with his Savior. But I longed to have him back in his right mind and to be able to do the things we had enjoyed and hadn’t been able to do for years.

Some people try to escape sorrow by working longer hours or keeping up a frenzied schedule. “It takes a lot of energy to cry or to feel rage, guilt, or frustration—sometimes all at once. Yet it takes even more energy to contain and defend against emotional outbursts when around ­others.”4

We stifle grief to remain strong for others and complete necessary tasks. Otherwise, we fear they will be so paralyzed by sorrow that they won’t be able to function, meet the demands of life, and maintain a normal routine. If we ever let go and cry, we fear we’d lose control and “act ­crazy.”

My friend Judie recounted why she needed to contain her grief when she had Hodgkin’s ­Disease:


“I was facing something so frightening, and I had to hold it together for my husband and daughters. But I was really holding it together for myself because I was so afraid. I ­couldn’t even let myself know how upset I was. I ­couldn’t let myself do what I wanted to do when I went for radiation treatments. I wanted to scream, ‘You’re not going to do this to me ­again!’

“I thought, If I lose control, I’ll never get it back. If I ever start crying, I’ll never be able to stop. The face I had to put on to make it easier on everybody else helped me hold myself together; it kept me from totally coming apart. I felt as if I were made of glass. If I ever broke, I ­wouldn’t be able to put the pieces back together.”


Prayer

Grant me the desire of my heart and do not withhold the request of my lips. “Lord, don’t be far away. You are my strength; hurry to help me.” My bones are dried up and my hope has perished. I am completely cut off. I wait in hope for You, Lord; You are my help and my shield. I’ll be patient and wait on You; I’ll be of good courage. O strengthen my heart, and I will wait patiently on You, Lord. (Ps. 21:2 paraphrased; Ps. 22:19 ncv not paraphrased; Ezek. 37:11b nas95; Ps. 33:20; Ps. 27:14 kjv ­paraphrased)

Wednesday, October 19, 2016



COLUMBUS DAY STORM





Shattered by Loss and Sorrow

On October 12, 1962, Ron and I were living in Portland, Oregon when The Columbus Day Storm struck. Wind gusts reached 116 miles per hour at the Morrison Street Bridge. We stood at our front bay window oblivious of the danger, watching debris flying everywhere. I shudder as I realize that we could have been seriously injured by shattered glass or even killed by our house ­collapsing.
We ­didn’t realize the severity of the storm until it passed, and we drove through the streets. Portland looked as if an angry giant had stomped through the city, crushing one house or business and leaving others untouched or slightly damaged. The wind blew out windows, knocked down fireplace chimneys, and rolled cars and large mobile homes across highways as if they were tin toys. The storm ripped off huge tree branches and felled power poles and lines. Streets and rivers were clogged with debris. Amazingly, our house was not damaged even though it sat on a knoll above the other houses on our ­street.
Sorrow can strike us like a hurricane. We wonder how we survived such a crushing loss. We may suffer immense grief when storms of trials rip our lives apart, leaving behind shattered, broken ­hearts.
We can also lose our sense of personal identity and place, such as after the loss of a job, death or a death. We don’t know who we are without our loved one. We feel as if part of us is missing, and we’re not the person we were ­before.
When Ron passed away, we had been married fifty-six and a half years. I had never lived alone, and I felt lost for the next two years. 
Gerald Sittser suffered the full force of a hurricane of sorrow after three of his family members were killed in a single accident. He wrote, “That initial deluge of loss slowly gave way over the next months to the steady seepage of pain that comes when grief, like floodwaters refusing to subside, finds every crack and crevice of the human spirit to enter and erode. I thought that I was going to lose my ­mind.”1
“The loss of anything of real value which a person cares about can produce grief. There seem to be important factors in understanding grief. Not only have I lost something, but it is something of value, something which has provided me with security or support or satisfaction and fulfillment, something in which I have been invested emotionally, something which I truly care ­about.”2
The more we loved and cared about someone, the more of ourselves that we committed to a relationship or invested in our work or project we were passionate about, the more staggering our grief when we fail or lose one.

Prayer


O my Comforter, “How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?” “My eye has also grown dim because of sorrow, And all my members are like shadows.” O God, “wipe away every tear from my eyes; for in heaven there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things will pass away.” (Ps. 13:2 NIV; Job 17:7 NKJV; Rev. 21:4 NKJV)