Monday, October 5, 2009

I have been thinking recently about metaphors for personal tragedy. When I lost my wife to cancer, it was about the same time as the great earthquake and tsunami of 2004. Now on the heels of yet another Sumatran earthquake and tsunami, I find myself thinking again about loss and grieving in the wake of a personal tragedy. For me, the tsunami was the perfect metaphor for what I experienced. Standing on the shoreline, we watched the tsunami wave approach as we held hands on the beach, helpless to do anything against the impending crash of that unavoidable wave of misery. That mighty, awful wave grew, and filled the horizon. It came and crashed, and it devastated the life I once knew. It left me floundering in the surf, struggling for air and my very existence, fighting my way back to the beach of my life, which would never be the same again. She was gone, and I was alone,

In my book, “Transforming the Valley of Grief: Men Finding Hope and Their Path Following the Loss of a Loved One,” I talk about metaphors for grief, and that choosing an appropriate metaphor can be a helpful step in processing grief and moving forward in the Valley toward hope and healing. For some, loss comes suddenly and unexpectedly, in a tragic accident or with a heart attack. Perhaps a tornado is a better metaphor than a tsunami in such cases. For others, loss is a long drawn-out process of illness, decline, and the protracted “goodbye.” Perhaps being lost at sea in a leaky boat, slowly filling with water but going down nevertheless, is a better metaphor than my tsunami. Each man experiences loss in a different way.

Finding the right metaphor can be an important step in the grieving/healing process. And I am here to testify that God can meet us at our lowest point—floundering in the surf, emerging from the storm cellar to find everything swept away, or sinking in the depths. I refer to what ensues as a walk through “the Valley” (of the shadow of death). But take comfort in God’s promise found in Hosea 2:15—“I will make the Valley…a door of hope.” I did!

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