Seven years of lament!

Today it is 7 years since my husband died. I came across to Millport, where as a family we had a lot of marvellous and poignant memories. I am looking at the hills which form the silhouette of ‘the sleeping warrior’. In his better days, Colin used to climb the hills in Arran, and he loved the outdoors, and the Scottish landscape especially.

In recent weeks, I have been privileged to have the opportunity to tell my husband’s story to different groups of people. It has been great to do this, but also profoundly moving. Every time I share, I am reminded of different details, some of which I have tried to forget.

Colin was a veteran, who sustained a head injury in active service, and consequently developed epilepsy, which became progressively degenerative. He was a thoughtful, kind man with a wild sense of humour, but his years of service left him with ptsd symptoms and a sense of injustice at some of the things that had happened to him. He became a Christian, and found solace in God’s presence with him, but at times he was restless and had deep wounds to his soul.

I am so thankful for his life- his love of singing, his writings, his intelligence, his love. But I lament over the depth and length of his suffering, and memories of his frustration and irritation at the things he could no longer do. He served his country, but the consequent cost was all consuming, and impacted all around him.

When I was pondering over this, I was also noticing it was 7 years- years with different emphases- with jumbled patterns of grieving- numbness, despair, hope, grace, frustration, healing. In the Bible the number 7 is often associated with completion and rest, with The 7th day being a day of rest after the creation of all things, and the last book in the Bible Revelation speaking of 7 churches, 7 seals and 7 trumpets. I don’t think my grief is ever going to lessen, but maybe this cycle of grief might be complete, for something else to take its place.

In this new stage, I appreciate honouring Colin’s memory by continuing to tell his story, and to see if there are trajectories for enabling others in similar situations to tell their stories too. I have discovered that it can be challenging but healing to tell your truth. The story of Colin’s life is still available by contacting me directly, or from Amazon or Handsel press- the book about his life is called ‘Love song for a wounded warrior.’

In Mark 5, after the healing of the man disturbed with demons, in verse 19 Jesus says ‘ go and tell your people how much the Lord has done for you, and how he had mercy on you.’ The man went and shared about the difference that Jesus had made in his life.

We often live messy lives, where there have been mistakes, suffering, questions and heartbreak. Yet God is with us in the midst of it, offering forgiveness and abundant healing balm, restoring and strengthening and guiding us. We want to tell the world of such a gracious and caring God. There is still much mystery- many things we will not understand this side of eternity. Yet in the midst of both thanksgiving and lament, we trust- and take opportunities to tell our story. If we encourage just one other person, it is worth it.

Gracious and Eternal God, You are the creator of all things, and the heavens tell forth Your glory. We are grateful for the lives of those who are now in Your nearer presence, who inspire us every day. You have made us in your image- we are letters from Christ, written by the holy spirit, to convey your all encompassing love to others. We are unworthy- our stories are of struggle, of both joy and sorrow. Yet by your grace may our stories touch the soul of others. And may we create more safe places where personal stories might be shared and heard and appreciated. May we bear witness to the precious history of each individual, and pray and hold the space for them, so all can find deeper healing. Give us that desire to listen attentively to both rejoicing and lament, and to love in Your name, Amen.

Post funeral blues!

In the weeks after a funeral, it all feels a bit surreal. You have done the paperwork, and made the arrangements. You have said goodbye, and given thanks for the person’s life. You have shared stories and memories.

But then comes the next bit, when people say you are ‘getting back to normal’. You go through some of the familiar routines- outwardly it seems the same. But there are gapping holes and jagged edges- you go to phone the person, but they are not there. You see something you know they would have been interested in, and make a mental note to share it, but there is no opportunity.

My mum passed away over a month ago, and I didn’t want her to suffer, and so her passing was the better option. I give thanks for her, as she was a wonderful mum to me, and an amazing gran to my son. But life will never be the same again.

So many people walk around with invisible wounds. Grief is so raw, but there is no outward mark. You walk around, and people look normal, but everything feels upside down. You have to relearn how to live, how to spend that now empty part of your day.

We all know that in time, new rhythms of life will emerge. Memories now tinged with sadness will be retrieved with less pain. More positive reminiscences re- emerge. A balance will come back.

God holds is in our grief and tears, as we mourn and process our losses. At times we start the day strong, but an unexpected phonecall or letter brings a fresh wave of anguish. It can feel as if we experience the loss anew.

‘ Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted’ Matthew 5:4

God so often shows us evidences of grace even we are at our lowest ebb- a prayer spoken, a message of support, fresh flowers, an unexpected kindness, a rainbow in the sky. Grief cannot be rushed, we have to take each heavy step, but there are flowers in the verges, and we are given the strength we need.

I think we also need to learn to be kind to ourselves, to forgive, to say no when we need to, and to know that just sitting staring into space, can be just fine. Being patient with ourselves, gives us space to lament, and then to heal.

Gracious God, grieving can be so exhausting. We can be sad about many things. But we are not alone. Lord Jesus, You walk with us, and when we are downcast, You lift our heads, when we are burdened, You carry what is heavy for us. Thankyou that even in surreal days of uncertainty and pain, You send your holy spirit, and You bring us solace and remind us that hope is not gone. Teach us to show unreserved kindness to all who are silently nursing painful wounds, and to extend that kindness even to ourselves. In Jesus’ name, Amen

Grief creeping in round the edges.

Christmas Day is now passed. It is a time of thanksgiving, for people that we have spent time with, gifts exchanged, worship in church – atmospheric and inspiring! So much to appreciate.

Despite my strenuous and best efforts, I still find it hard not to grieve as well. I think that I have lost three close relatives in three years, and there is something about the intensity of that, exacerbated by the restrictions of the pandemic, that just seem hard to overcome. I suspect I need to try less hard, and just let things be. It is exhausting trying to be content.

My parents in law, loved showing hospitality at Christmas. They would have the flat decorated, their table would look amazing, they loved to cook food, and for people to chat together. There were elegant candles and tiny shiny angels. They were truly convivial people, and they enjoyed creating a welcoming and lovely space.

There is a cliche about loss, that when some one dies, that there is an empty place at the table. For me, it feels so much bigger than that because the table itself has gone. There is a loss of the whole experience, which will never return.

I am so grateful for the patience of God. He lets me be sorrowful when I need to. When I am trying hard to be optimistic, He gives me space to acknowledge my grief. In Matthew chapter 5 verse 4 Jesus says ‘ blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted’. And in these days of mixed emotions, the presence of God is indeed a solace.

Eternal God, You are so patient and loving when we hurt. Sometimes we try to hard to heal, as it feels as if we should be better by now, that people don’t want to listen to our continued sadnesses. We exhaust ourselves trying to be upbeat, and grief creeps back in around the edges. Lord Jesus thank you that You love us as we are, that You are our Emmanuel, the God who is with us. Thankyou that You reach down to us, and enfold us in your love, and let us rest. Holy spirit we know You transform our souls, in your perfect timing. Meantime, help us just to wait, quietly, patiently, but with the hope that one day things will indeed be better, Amen.

Overload- one thing too many!

My goodness, I can’t believe that Christmas seems so close! Decorations are up in house windows, shops and streets. The lights are symbols of hope in dark days, and in many ways are welcome, however early it seems.

However I think there are mixed feelings for those who mourn, a desire to look forward with hope, alongside an awareness of the strain of missing a loved one, and feeling that no one else understands. You can be making plans, but some one us missing, the landscape feels different everything jarrs, if there is a Christmas card that never arrives, an empty chair, and a deep feeling of loss. Outwardly things might look very similar, but inside the feeling is different. People are often doing their best to help, and you don’t want to hurt their feelings. So you try hard to go through the motions, whilst nursing a broken heart.

We know the comforting bible verses inside out – ‘ God is close to the broken hearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’ Psalm 34: 18 and sometimes it is ok to stop filling our time with being busy, to pause, to let the hurt bubble up, and to weep. It is honest, and that is often when we feel God the closest, when we tell Him of our pain.

When we try to push the pain down, and don’t acknowledge it, that’s when we go into overload. It means that we overreact to unforeseen frustrations, pressures at work, the unexpected bill, the driver who cuts out in front of us, the ill judged words of a friend. Sometimes it can just be one thing too many which sends us into a tailspin. We are trying so hard, it doesn’t take much to derail us.

If we are hurting this Christmas, for whatever reason, a broken relationship, ill health, disrupted plans, the loss of a loved one, it is ok to take time to be with God and to cry out to him. He notices our every tear, and brings us comfort and grace, reminding us that we are never alone, and that our cries are heard. If we are able to slow down, and talk to God about our sadnesses, He can minister to us, and this is when we find the strength and the peace we need.

Gracious God, You search and You know us, before even a word is on our tongue, You know what is on our hearts. Forgive us for the times we pretend everything is alright, as sometimes we deceive even ourselves. We get so overloaded and so frustrated, short tempered and upset. Lord Jesus, come alongside us, and speak Your Word of truth, the truth that sets us free. Help us to know it is ok to be real with You, and with trusted loved ones. Help us through the power of your holy spirit, to find safe places to lament and to be real, so that we can find that healing and centredness we yearn for. Grant peace to all who are anxious about facing Christmas by themselves, and may they find that Your love will encircle and strengthen them, Amen.

Poignant celebrations.

Joy intermingled with sadness round the edges.

I feel so very privileged to celebrate my son’s birthday at the weekend. It was a lovely day, of being able to meet up with some family and friends. After so many days of not being able to meet because of all the covid restrictions, it is so appreciated to see real people again, and to talk and catch up.

The things that is tough though, is all the empty spaces. There are so many people missing for one reason or another, it was a little sad around the edges. It is such a mixed feeling of thanksgiving, but also of a realisation that things have changed, and they are not going to go back to where they were.

When you are grieving, this realisation seems to come back a thousand times. You think you know, that you understand, but then the loss of your loved ones take you unawares yet again. Your heart becomes immersed in old memories, the way it used to be, and for better or worse, it all feels so different and disorientating. The meaning is deeper, but somehow also more remote.

In Matthew chapter 5 verse 4, Jesus said ‘ blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.’

At times however, I don’t think those who mourn feel very blessed, rather just tearful, confused and exhausted! Yet the thing is, when we are at the end of ourselves, then that is when we rely more heavily on God, when we cry to Him for help, every moment of the day, and truly learn to shelter under the shadow of His wing. It takes all our energy just to rest in His love, and pray for healing. And we know that God never forsakes us. God us so patient and so merciful.

For anyone whose heart is sore and hurting, may you know the love of God enfolding you, and His healing grace, and the hope of things one day getting better. And may we all persevere meantime.

Gracious God, You watch over us with your angels, Your provide for us with such tender care, and sometimes we feel guilty for questioning or being sad. Lord Jesus Christ, thank you that you know your sheep, and you love us even when we groan or grumble that our life is tough. Please lift from us that need to pretend we are ok – yes to give thanks, but to acknowledge also that the ache is still there. Holy spirit, comfort us, strengthen us, and help us to smile even through our tears, for You say that all will be well. May we trust this promise, Amen.