 “Memories stick to things. Out of nowhere, something finds your nose, ears, or eyes and you’re on the other side of the country or world or in a whole other decade, being kissed by a doe-eyed beauty or punched by a drunken pal. You’ve got no control over it, none at all.”
--Lynda Rutledge, West with Giraffes What a perfect quote to express the power of the senses in grief. It shimmered off the page of Lynda’s gorgeous, heartfelt novel. As she aptly observes, sense memories can come “out of nowhere”—as startling as they are comforting and as overwhelming as they are grounding. Having served for years as a pastor and a co-founder of FaithandGrief.org, I have worked with countless aching hearts grappling with the many flavors of loss. And I have witnessed the complex role all our senses can play in our grief journeys. They can function as guideposts, rabbit holes, or occasionally, sparkling gems—triggering tidal waves of sorrow, surprise, delight—and even all three in the same moment.
3 Comments
 A few days ago, I was startled by a Grief Goblin who stopped me in my tracks, transported me across miles and years, and zapped me of all energy. Mind you, I’ve been engaged in grief work for years, and yet this goblin’s sneakiness startled me with its stubbornness. Goblin would not go away even though I’m certain it was aware of the mountain of work I had to do in such a short amount of time.
Given this go-to encounter with Goblin, I was grateful for the sacred space and time offered through the Spiritual Practice Zoom session’s that are compendium of my book, The Spirituality of Grief. This one-hour gathering on alternating Tuesday evenings from 7–8 p.m. CST provides a haven for those in raw or lingering grief.  What is grief? This is a daunting question, even for a pastor, and spiritual director — because a person’s grief experience is as unique as their fingerprint. Relationships, circumstances, and contexts are myriad in their complexity, and they intertwine in an unlimited range of scenarios and emotions. But the one thread that typically binds them is love — and as some say, love unexpressed. Grief’s magnitude is so often proportional to the love we feel and will always carry.
Within this boundless container of love, the permutations can be infinite — grief that’s complicated, anticipatory or even disenfranchised.  Parched.
Languishing. Afraid this was who I would be…forevermore…after the death of my Mom. I know that spell check thinks it should be a lower case “m”; but, hey, it’s my Mom with a capital M. Then late one night at the office (because I hadn’t been able to complete any task during the day), I pulled from my mailroom cubby an unprofessional looking beige flyer. I remember thinking, “If I was a flyer, I’d look just like this.” So, because of the personal connection established, I began to read. The flyer was advertising an opportunity to participate in a spiritual formation group. Words like authentic, compassion, and community were on the page. These words, plus the bold typed contemplative soul care moved me to tears. Thank you for joining our book club, here are some discussion tips & questions for your book club or for reading on your own to ponder.
Tips for Your Book Club Discussion Approach the time together as a way to get to know one another on a deeper and more intimate level by being vulnerable and sharing your experiences, reflections, and hopes.
If we grieve the way we live, describe how you process grief and life. Are you a:
|
RSS Feed