- Contact List
Last week, I decided I was ready. It was time.
I took out my cell phone. I went to the contact list. I started scrolling through the alphabetical list of contacts.
A. B. C. D.
The first listing under the letter D said Dad. I tapped it, and Dad's photo appeared, and his contact info - phone numbers that once connected me directly to him.
I tapped where it said history, and it was blank. It caught me a little off guard, my phone telling me that there was no history here, when there so obviously was… but old texts only stay around for so long...
Then I looked down at the bottom of the screen, and saw the little "delete" icon. I stared at that for a moment, my finger hovering over it.
And then I touched it.
A message appeared. It said: Are you sure you want to delete?
No! I'm not!
And...yes. I am.
I touched it, and Dad's contact info - the info that became obsolete the moment Dad died nearly 2 years ago - was gone.
I went back to the list of contacts, and started scrolling some more.
E. F. G. H. I. J. K. L. M…
I found Mom's contact info. I looked at it for a moment. I looked at the delete icon. I tapped it. The "Are you sure?" message appeared, and I tapped "yes."
- Messy Stages
I’ve learned a lot about grief over the years, and especially over the past 22 months. I’ve learned from my own experience, and I’ve also learned from books I’ve read and workshops I’ve attended.
One of my Disciples clergy colleagues, Galen Goben, is the director of bereavement for Forest Lawn. He’s a pastor, and so’s his wife Louise. In fact, it was Louise who officiated at Dad’s funeral.
As director of bereavement, Galen knows a lot about grief. I’ve heard him give presentations on grief to groups of clergy, most recently at a gathering of clergy the day before the Regional Gathering just a few weeks ago.
And on that occasion, Galen pointed out that grief doesn’t happen in neat, clearly-defined stages.
In seminary, I and nearly every minister I know read Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’s book The Five Stages of Grief. And the five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. And, supposedly, people move from one to the next to the next, in orderly sequence.
But grief isn’t quite so neat and orderly, is it? Grief is unpredictable. It hits you at the strangest times… and those times aren’t always the most convenient…
And we suck it up, hold it in, and try to compose ourselves…
Because the world, it seems, doesn’t want us to grieve. The world wants us to move on, and put grieving behind us.
3. Lamentation
The Bible doesn’t do that. As I’ve mentioned before, a great many of the psalms are psalms of lament.
...And we read of King David’s grief over his son Absalom - one of the most emotional, heart-wrenching passages of scripture.
...And we read in Ecclesiastes that there is a time for everything, including a time to weep, and a time to mourn.
...And we read of Israel’s grief following the destruction of the temple, the iconic symbol of their faith. It wasn’t just a building; it was the representation of their identity, of who they were as a people. That grief was messy, and it persisted.
...And we know that even Jesus - who certainly knew all about the resurrection and victory over death that was to come - wept at the death of his dear friend Lazarus. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead; but first, he wept.
The Bible gives space to our grieving.
4. It’s Complicated
And then there are types of grief that just don’t seem to fit neatly into the categories the world has for grief. If a close family member dies, that is acknowledged by society. You might even get some time off work, and an airline might help you find a bereavement fare…
But not all types of grief fit into these recognizable categories.
I realized this 18 years ago when the exchange student who had lived with our family for a year went back home to Brazil. He left, and we didn’t know if we’d ever see him again. We said goodbye, and a few hours later I was doing my best to lead worship and preach a sermon and go on with life as if nothing had happened.
It was a few weeks before I realized: I was grieving. And it was hard.
It was also 18 years ago that Ethan was diagnosed with diabetes at age 4. And in the weeks following that diagnosis I had a strange sadness about me that didn’t make sense, until I realized: I was grieving. I was grieving the loss of the healthy, diabetes-free childhood I had imagined for my son.
More recently, in the past few years, we’ve been grieving as a result of the situation concerning my father-in-law - Ginger’s dad. He’s not the man he was. Mental illness has taken over. And grief becomes a lot more complicated due to the fact that the man he was is no more, and yet he is still very much alive.
And I know many of you carry similar types of grief with you. Not exactly the same, because everyone is different and every experience is different. But similar enough that you know that grief is not always neat and clean, and that society doesn’t always make space for all the types of grief we feel.
At the gathering of clergy a few weeks ago, Galen talked about the grief our regional church is feeling in the transition to a new regional minister. Don Dewey and Susan Gonzales Dewey have been our regional ministers for the past twelve years. Galen acknowledged the weird feelings that will arise when any of us calls the regional office and asks to speak to “Don- uh, I mean, Richie.”
And yes, we can be excited about having a new regional minister and hopeful about the new ideas he brings, and at the same time, mourn the passing of what was.
5 Weeping, Laughing, Mourning, Dancing
Here at Bixby Knolls Christian Church, many of us are grieving and have been grieving the church that once was, the church that is no more. Don’t get me wrong - we have plans for the future, exciting ideas, and lots of hope about what is to come - but that doesn’t mean we aren’t also grieving over the passing of what was.
The present and future ministry of this church look very different from the past ministry of this church. That’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s good.
But we can still grieve over the passing of the ministry that was.
And a lot of people talk about the good ol’ days, about how things were, how good things were, in the past. I don’t really think that things were any better in the past than they are today. Some things are better now, some things were better then… But we remember the past, and we miss those days, and we mourn, and we grieve, because the past is no more. The future may be good and hopeful and full of promise, but it’s not the past we knew. And we can be excited about the future… but still miss the past.
The thing is, as I said, society doesn’t always make space for all these different kinds of grief. But perhaps we in the church can.
Maybe we can be better at providing space for people to grieve, however they grieve, whatever they grieve.
Perhaps we can provide space for the messiness of grief, and not insist that grief follow five clearly defined stages that happen in a certain order, or that grief is processed and completed in a certain amount of time - which is ridiculous, really, because grief lasts a lifetime.
It becomes a part of us, and if we’re lucky/fortunate/blessed, we learn to live with it and even appreciate it. We learn to give thanks for the relationships in our past even while celebrating what is yet to come.
Over time, if we are given the space, we can learn to remember with love and gratitude, rather than so much pain.
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
Weeping and laughing are not as opposite as we think. And mourning can lead to dancing.
But if we don’t allow space for our grief, then we will find that we can’t move on, and the laughter will never come.
We need to allow ourselves the time and space to gently hold our grief, to gently embrace it, and care for it.
Grief is there for a reason.
Some try to find a way around grief, but grief itself is the way forward. It is a gift to us.
Listen….
What is grief telling you?...
What lesson is it teaching?...
What comfort does it offer?...
Is it possible for you to be thankful for your grief?...
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