The other evening as I was chatting with my friend Stu he asked ‘so what’s next for you? Where do you sense God taking you?’
I usually have a pretty clear answer for questions of that kind as I tend to look to the future and see it well. That evening I also had a clear answer – but not one I anticipated. There were two aspects to it:
a) Before Sam died Danelle was excited about studying Clinical Pastoral Education with a view to becoming a hospital chaplain and he died exactly one week before she was to begin her course. So it has been shelved until such time as she is able to pick it up again.
As Danelle and I had conversations around this I sensed that it was time for me to support her in the things she loves and is gifted at. This is her sweet spot – taking people from ‘pain to peace’ is how she describes her calling. So that is part one – wait for her to get to a place where she feels ready to study and then support her in this and whatever roles may come from it. Most of our life she has come alongside whatever I had felt called to and supported. It’s time for her to shine a little more.
b) Stay – I have read a lot about the grief process over the last 4 months and one of the poems that has stayed with me is titled ‘Stay’ from the book Sparrow by Jan Richardson. It’s message is essentially don’t rush past this time – don’t look to ‘move on quickly’ and thereby miss what you may see and gain by staying in it.
It’s a little bit of an odd idea – who ever wants to sit in pain and loss? But her point is strong – wait – stay – and see what comes from that practice. While technically it’s a ‘blessing for ascension day’, it is also a call to those of us who are oriented towards moving quickly thru life to pause and wait. So that will be the second part of my focus – quite simply to ‘stay’ in the space and to see what comes from being here.
I don’t see that as an inactive / passive posture, but more one of learning and listening to what the Spirit may want to say or do and in that space to continue with ‘life as normal’, running our business, speaking occasionally as needed and living in the local community.
So that’s ‘the plan’ – not sure how well I will do at it, but I am happy to give it a shot.
And the poem is below with a brief comment from Richardson:
I wrote this for Ascension Sunday some years ago—in the spring before Gary died, as it turned out. It reminds me how blessings have a way of moving both within and beyond time, spiralling around to meet us anew in the ways we most need but never expected. In these unexpected days, this blessing is for you.
“Stay,” by Jan Richardson
I know how your mind
rushes ahead
trying to fathom
what could follow this.
What will you do,
where will you go,
how will you live?
You will want
to outrun the grief.
You will want
to keep turning toward
the horizon,
watching for what was lost
to come back,
to return to you
and never leave again.
For now
hear me when I say
all you need to do
is to still yourself
is to turn toward one another
is to stay.
Wait
and see what comes
to fill
the gaping hole
in your chest.
Wait with your hands open
to receive what could never come
except to what is empty
and hollow.
You cannot know it now,
cannot even imagine
what lies ahead,
but I tell you
the day is coming
when breath will
fill your lungs
as it never has before
and with your own ears
you will hear words
coming to you new
and startling.
You will dream dreams
and you will see the world
ablaze with blessing.
Wait for it.
Still yourself.
Stay.
thanks Andrew .
in the words of tom Petty
the waiting IS the hardest part
isn’t it ?
waiting to hear what the Spirit is saying and is wanting to do is definately wise too .
we wait for the Lord’s return , we wait for waves , I wait for the ‘right’ moment to take a photo ,
we wait for plenty in life
Funny how the
wait for the Lord
be strong and take heart
and
wait for the Lord
part often seems the most challenging [? hardest?] part to do in life .
interesting how many times David and others mention that in the Psalms
Also how Jesus commanded His disciples to stay / wait in Jerusalem , for the promise of the Spirit to come and then empower them [ how were the results of that waiting for Peter , in particular eh ? as we surfers would say woohoo , or ‘yewwww ! ‘
The Lord with and within them , made ALL the difference to his life , and thousands of others around him too ….
God bless you as you stay / wait / pray , Andrew and Danelle
cheers
benand Hayley chipper
Andrew, Your commitment to support Danelle in her journey is admirable.
Your wisdom in choosing to stay present and pace yourself during this time of grief shows a lot about your strength and character. The poem “Stay” resonates deeply, and we are here to stay with you, together for whatever comes next 💛
Sitting with the grief and not running away, pushing it aside or numbing it is a complex thing to learn to do. Early on a doctor asked me if I wanted a script for antidepressants, which I’ve taken in the past and know can be helpful with ruminating thoughts. But for this, I knew it wasn’t depression and I knew I shouldn’t medicate the grief away. It was a normal emotional response to immeasurable loss. Another bereaved parent told me “grief is love with nowhere to go”, and I truly feel that’s why it hurts so much, and why it is so exhausting to the mind, body and soul.
It can be hard to stay with it and switch off the flight response. I talked about this with a counsellor recently and the way she put it is that the mind wants to protect itself from further harm, so it’s understandable we would back away from things we perceive will cause us more pain. With grief though I find this reflex is often counterproductive. The more I push it away, the more I just get whiplash the next time it surfaces.
So I too have chosen to try to stay or sit with the grief. Some of those closest haven’t stuck by me through it, as they think it’s not moving on, but I know in my heart there’s no moving on from this; only moving with. I too have stepped back from what I formerly did in life and have gone back to study to retrain and pursue a different path. I’m not who I was, and can’t be who I used to be.
One thing that I would recommend, are planned moments of rest from the grief. A TV show, a book, a meander through nature. Early on, I found I was drawn to – of all things – TV series set in war zones. I think it was something about the narrative being so extreme that it outpaced my own extreme feelings, which somehow helped. Also, building things – doing stuff with my hands – really helped. Carpentry, brickwork, physically laborious stuff where I had to focus on what I was doing and tired myself out physically rather than mentally. Nowadays, periods of study are serving a similar purpose.
I really value what you have written here. I feel like our society is quick to shame those who have lost a loved one for feeling the loss intensely and expressing it to others. People tend to fear it perhaps, or don’t know what to say or do. The biggest help to me is having someone simply sit with me in it, validate my grief and not try to fix anything, but just acknowledge it – and me – as human and worthy of love and time.
I have often asked ‘why’? Is this a lesson of some kind? I guess humans are able to learn from all experiences, so in that sense it is. But I don’t know. I think as you’ve said, once this happens you realise how many others have walked a similar path. One thing I would say is the experience of losing a child strips all facades away, and this is a common thread I’ve seen in the stories of other bereaved parents as well. I’m less tolerant of people who aren’t real with me, I’m less attached to material possessions or job titles or acclaim; it just doesn’t matter to me anymore. I’d trade everything just to have my girl back.
Yeah I hear you Ash – I can’t find any bigger reason – so I live with the mystery