My heart is grieving these days. I feel as if I am in a perpetual place of grief. It's maddening. The other day in spiritual direction I cried and said to my spiritual director, "I am so so tired. I am bone weary." Then, after a pause, I said, "And God is in my bones." May God be in our bones, in our wounds, in our grief, amen.
Thank you for sharing your friend with us and your grief for him. My heart breaks for the many whose wounds wonāt be healed this side of heaven. May this sharing lighten the heaviness in your heart, if even a little.
Kevin, thank you for this beautiful expression of compassion and dignity for your friend. Iām so sorry for your pain in bearing witness to his pain, and that of others. Itās also compounded by the loud voices of hate and heartlessness that abound.
There is so much to unpack here, and I hope you are able to get the support that you need as you process this and all the other gut-wrenching experiences you are exposed to. The love and compassion you carry in your heart and your investments in others goes way further than you can imagine.
For some reason, I am particularly struck by this line: āHe felt all of it; every little thing, all the time, and he deserved to choose not toā. I get super triggered when people dehumanize those who suffer from deep wounds that they canāt even begin to understand and then blame them for their āchoicesā to numb their pain or to protect themselves in other ways that, unfortunately, donāt help in the long haul.
I do take heart in having faith that our time here is just a blink in the bigger picture that we canāt really see. Your friendās journey of suffering is done and I hope that he has been welcomed into a new realm absent of pain and sorrow, filled only with the love that we were all made for. I think the joy in receiving that love must be greatest for those who suffered most here.
Sorry this isnāt expressed very well. But I felt compelled to respond.
Whumpf! I am both a poet and an empath, so I try to minimize the news I follow. In times like these, it's everywhere, and not truly avoidable. In a household of 9 "sort of" family, there is more than one doom-scroller, and one who laughs at concern for what's happening in the country and insists it will MAGA. (This one is an ex-son-in-law once married to our daughter (Step for me) and father of three (step) grandchildren) He is not particularly popular here, but our personal "enemy" put here so God can be glorified as we struggle to love him. The daughter that was married to him disappeared about 16 years ago and with drugs and a new boyfriend convinced herself she had no children. Another of the 9 is a son, who has taken over a room at the back of the garage which does not connect to the rest of the garage. He is a former addict, clean about 6 or 7 years, and has had his times of homelessness. (We could not allow him to live here while he was using as two grandchildren were n the house and could be taken awa by CPS. I mourned his loss while he was in and out of jail and still using, and daily praise God for giving me my son back. I can picture way to graphicly and clearly this person you wrote about and feel like I've been punched in the gut. I'm sure you felt much like that when you learned of the loss. Thank you for sharing your vulnerability. And thank you for sharing your love and care of the most vulnerable in our world.
Thank you for this pause and poem to āhold all this together,ā Kevin. Iām so sorry for your loss. šļø
I appreciate your open invitation to grieve together and to ration our exposure to the difficulties of our times. Releasing all of this together builds our capacity to love and serve in mutual intimacy. Praying for all who tend lifeās open wounds unconditionally. šš¾š
Thank you for sharing your friend with us. Iām so so sorry. ššļø
My heart is grieving these days. I feel as if I am in a perpetual place of grief. It's maddening. The other day in spiritual direction I cried and said to my spiritual director, "I am so so tired. I am bone weary." Then, after a pause, I said, "And God is in my bones." May God be in our bones, in our wounds, in our grief, amen.
whoa.
"I am bone weary, and God is in my bones."
I'm going to come back to this. Thank you for this revelation.
you are welcome! it was a moment of relief for me in a day when I so needed it.
cannot even believe how lucky we were to know him.
Thank you for sharing your friend with us and your grief for him. My heart breaks for the many whose wounds wonāt be healed this side of heaven. May this sharing lighten the heaviness in your heart, if even a little.
Kevin, thank you for this beautiful expression of compassion and dignity for your friend. Iām so sorry for your pain in bearing witness to his pain, and that of others. Itās also compounded by the loud voices of hate and heartlessness that abound.
There is so much to unpack here, and I hope you are able to get the support that you need as you process this and all the other gut-wrenching experiences you are exposed to. The love and compassion you carry in your heart and your investments in others goes way further than you can imagine.
For some reason, I am particularly struck by this line: āHe felt all of it; every little thing, all the time, and he deserved to choose not toā. I get super triggered when people dehumanize those who suffer from deep wounds that they canāt even begin to understand and then blame them for their āchoicesā to numb their pain or to protect themselves in other ways that, unfortunately, donāt help in the long haul.
I do take heart in having faith that our time here is just a blink in the bigger picture that we canāt really see. Your friendās journey of suffering is done and I hope that he has been welcomed into a new realm absent of pain and sorrow, filled only with the love that we were all made for. I think the joy in receiving that love must be greatest for those who suffered most here.
Sorry this isnāt expressed very well. But I felt compelled to respond.
That line was really important to me for exactly the reasons you articulated. Thanks for noticing it.
Whumpf! I am both a poet and an empath, so I try to minimize the news I follow. In times like these, it's everywhere, and not truly avoidable. In a household of 9 "sort of" family, there is more than one doom-scroller, and one who laughs at concern for what's happening in the country and insists it will MAGA. (This one is an ex-son-in-law once married to our daughter (Step for me) and father of three (step) grandchildren) He is not particularly popular here, but our personal "enemy" put here so God can be glorified as we struggle to love him. The daughter that was married to him disappeared about 16 years ago and with drugs and a new boyfriend convinced herself she had no children. Another of the 9 is a son, who has taken over a room at the back of the garage which does not connect to the rest of the garage. He is a former addict, clean about 6 or 7 years, and has had his times of homelessness. (We could not allow him to live here while he was using as two grandchildren were n the house and could be taken awa by CPS. I mourned his loss while he was in and out of jail and still using, and daily praise God for giving me my son back. I can picture way to graphicly and clearly this person you wrote about and feel like I've been punched in the gut. I'm sure you felt much like that when you learned of the loss. Thank you for sharing your vulnerability. And thank you for sharing your love and care of the most vulnerable in our world.
Thank you for this pause and poem to āhold all this together,ā Kevin. Iām so sorry for your loss. šļø
I appreciate your open invitation to grieve together and to ration our exposure to the difficulties of our times. Releasing all of this together builds our capacity to love and serve in mutual intimacy. Praying for all who tend lifeās open wounds unconditionally. šš¾š