January 1, 2009

Some words from a book I'm reading

bring me comfort and light. And I hope they bring you comfort when you come to a time of loss with your faithful companions.

Words about living life. And not just getting things done. Words about not wasting our pain. About being intentional about our joy. Words of reminder to not look only at what God is not giving, but what He is giving. Words that urge me to make room in my life for Him. To come to a place where there is a spaciousness in my soul. Room for God.

Words that remind me that "the sorrows in our lives are in great part His weaning process. We give our hearts over to so many things other than God. We look to so many other things for life. Especially the gifts that He Himself gives to us - they become more important to us than He is. That's not the way it is supposed to be. As long as our happiness is tied to the things we can lose, we are vulnerable."

Words that also comfort me that "our losses are not permanent, not when they are in the hands of God."

Words that call me to remember, "The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it". God is speaking to us all the time. Sometimes he uses words. Other times He uses dreams. And He loves to use the ever-changing, unfolding beauty, drama, and presence of His creation. What was Wordsworth's phrase?

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

.... and then, these words from the author who wrote about his grief when he chose to put to sleep his beloved companion, Scout, a Golden Retriever, who was suffering in pain from terminal cancer:

"It almost seems wrong to be feeling okay only days after Scout's death and all that our family went through. Like it somehow diminishes what he meant to me, the sadness of his death, the loss, and especially it somehow diminishes what the others are feeling, because they are not doing well. It's almost a version of survivor's guilt, that thought that says, I shouldn't be doing well, look at the others.

Be careful of this. "I ought to feel bad" can quickly become an agreement with feeling bad, and it shouldn't then come as a surprise that pretty soon you start feeling bad. Accept the grace of God when it comes. It's a gift, and if He's giving it, it must be all right to receive it."


Thank You. I receive it.

1 comment:

jules said...

Thank for sharing... i used to wonder whether i am cold and heartless when i seem to get over the grief of being separated by death too quickly... and i do try to prolong the grieving and feeling bad process. Well, thank you, i receive it too.