Grief and Thanksgiving
At this holiday season, I am reminded of both the bad and the good things attached to the holidays for someone dealing with grief, whether over a recent loss or one more distant in time. The “bad” things are holiday “triggers” that provide unwanted reminders of the better times past. In my book, “Transforming the Valley of Grief,” I use the metaphor of “flash floods” for such times, when things are going well and then, all of a sudden some reminder of the departed loved one takes place, possibly at some important anniversary or on a holiday, such as Thanksgiving or Christmas, and we are once again swept away by the tides of grief.
But the “bad” things can be “good” ones as well. I am reminded that Job worshiped God upon hearing of the loss of his children:
Job 1:20-21 (ESV)
Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. [21] And he said, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."
I am also reminded of the following passage from Joel:
Joel 2:13-14 (ESV)
Return to the Lord, your God,
for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love;
and he relents over disaster.
[14] Who knows whether he will not turn and relent,
and leave a blessing behind him,
a grain offering and a drink offering
for the Lord your God?
In the early stages of my “valley of the shadow of death” experience, I found this passage VERY encouraging—that God would “relent over disaster.” More importantly, it taught me to look for “left behind blessings” in the death of my wife to cancer. And what are we to do with those left behind blessings? We are to worship! That’s what the “grain offering and drink offering” are for—“for the Lord your God.” So at this time of grief in your own life, I encourage you to be thankful for your “left behind blessings” and to worship the Lord, who is gracious and merciful…and relents over disaster (even your own disaster!). I wish for you a thankful holiday season!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Metaphors for Grief
In the depth of my grief, when my wife of 30+ years succumbed to colon cancer, I found it helpful to think about my situation in terms of a metaphor. The metaphor I chose was that of a tsunami. You see, Karen was diagnosed the week after Thanksgiving of 2004, and died a mere 7 weeks later. Right in the midst of her struggle, a real tsunami took place off Sumatra, during which more than 240,000 people lost their lives to the great tidal wave that swept down upon them. Both “tsunamis” left devastation in their wake.
And why was a “tsunami” such a good metaphor for my experience? Well, first of all, it captured my sense of impending doom. I envision standing on the beach watching a real tsunami wave grow in the distance as it approaches the shore. One has a growing realization of what one in facing. And it isn’t good! Second, it captures the sense of helplessness. Again, one stands on the shoreline watching the approaching wave, and knowing that there is little you can do to forestall its coming or prevent the havoc it will wreak when it strikes the shore. About all you can do is hold hands and pray and watch it come. You want to run, but you realize you can’t outrun the destruction about to overtake you. And finally, after the wave has struck, you find her hand ripped out of yours, and yourself drowning in the surf, struggling to breathe, and clinging to the flotsam and jetsam of what you once called life. The shoreline is there—you can see it from the crests of the waves (but never from the troughs)—if you can only claw your way up the sandy slope against the undertow, knowing that she will not be there when you finally make it. You can see why this has been such a powerful metaphor for my loss!
In counseling men in similar situations, I encourage them to think of a metaphor for their loss. Was it like a tsunami? How so? Or perhaps your loss was more sudden, as with a freak accident or quick parting. Perhaps a tornado is a better metaphor? You emerge from the storm shelter to find everything destroyed…gone…and only you are left behind to pick up the pieces and rebuild…if you can. Or maybe your loss was long and drawn out…a never-ending “goodbye.” I’ll leave it to you to come up with your own metaphor. But as I urge in “Transforming the Valley of Grief” (Xulon Press), interacting with a metaphor of loss is a good way to process grief and to make progress toward healing.
In the depth of my grief, when my wife of 30+ years succumbed to colon cancer, I found it helpful to think about my situation in terms of a metaphor. The metaphor I chose was that of a tsunami. You see, Karen was diagnosed the week after Thanksgiving of 2004, and died a mere 7 weeks later. Right in the midst of her struggle, a real tsunami took place off Sumatra, during which more than 240,000 people lost their lives to the great tidal wave that swept down upon them. Both “tsunamis” left devastation in their wake.
And why was a “tsunami” such a good metaphor for my experience? Well, first of all, it captured my sense of impending doom. I envision standing on the beach watching a real tsunami wave grow in the distance as it approaches the shore. One has a growing realization of what one in facing. And it isn’t good! Second, it captures the sense of helplessness. Again, one stands on the shoreline watching the approaching wave, and knowing that there is little you can do to forestall its coming or prevent the havoc it will wreak when it strikes the shore. About all you can do is hold hands and pray and watch it come. You want to run, but you realize you can’t outrun the destruction about to overtake you. And finally, after the wave has struck, you find her hand ripped out of yours, and yourself drowning in the surf, struggling to breathe, and clinging to the flotsam and jetsam of what you once called life. The shoreline is there—you can see it from the crests of the waves (but never from the troughs)—if you can only claw your way up the sandy slope against the undertow, knowing that she will not be there when you finally make it. You can see why this has been such a powerful metaphor for my loss!
In counseling men in similar situations, I encourage them to think of a metaphor for their loss. Was it like a tsunami? How so? Or perhaps your loss was more sudden, as with a freak accident or quick parting. Perhaps a tornado is a better metaphor? You emerge from the storm shelter to find everything destroyed…gone…and only you are left behind to pick up the pieces and rebuild…if you can. Or maybe your loss was long and drawn out…a never-ending “goodbye.” I’ll leave it to you to come up with your own metaphor. But as I urge in “Transforming the Valley of Grief” (Xulon Press), interacting with a metaphor of loss is a good way to process grief and to make progress toward healing.
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