Change

Life brings change.  Life is change.  Change brings grief.  Change is grief.  It can be like a flower pushing through asphalt.  Hard work can bring beauty.

Good Grief, Greta!

Grief can be a good thing.   I am experiencing that dichotomy this week.  I am grieving my little girl, Greta Louise, as she celebrate her 18th birthday.   Soon she will be venturing out of the safety of home  and exploring the vast opportunities that the world holds.  As I think about her spreading her wings, I know I will grieve not having her with me everyday. However, I am excited to see how her gifts will make a difference in the world.
The sadness that I feel as Greta turns 18 is  good grief, because it speaks to the gift that she has been to me each and every day, it honors my love for her and it makes me treasure who she is as I wait to see who she will become.
This week,  I am feeling the dichotomy of grief as I say goodbye to my sweet little girl and celebrate the beauty of a young woman who will grace the world with her presence.

Spring Flowers

My tulips and crocus were seeking sunlight as they peeked through their winter blanket of leaves.  It is highly likely that they will need to go into hiding again when we get another blast of Minnesota winter.

I was hit with a blast of winter's grief this week.  The spring flowers of healing sought cover when a firefighter came into the office to do an inspection.  He inquired about the picture of Dave in his fireman's gear. I proudly said, "That is my brother."  Looking closer he said, "Steamboat Springs, Colorado.  Nice. Will you ask him if they have any openings?"  Frozen by a cold blast of grief,  I  welled up with tears and said, "I can't.  He died."  His eyes glassed over  and I felt the rawness of winter's wind return as I remembered David's funeral. The church isles were lined with big strapping firefighters standing at attention with tears rolling down their cheeks.

It has been seven years since David died.  Life is once again filled with spring flowers, but every once and a while winter returns and the flowers seek a protective blanket.  My family covered me with the warmth of their love and the snow melted fast.

A Powerful Poem

This powerful poem,  Allowing Grace, by Judith E Prest  invited me to allow grace today.

I am dancing
balanced on the edge
between worlds,
memories telescoping
playing simultaneously
with dreams and reality
a festival of images

I accept death
inviting it as a beginning
I am watching my mother's illusions
collapse around her
piling high in the hospital bed
filling the space so she barely has room
I am watching her hang on,
hands clawed with arthritis,
frozen on the wheel of her life
grasping, seeking, resisting...

I sing lullabies in my head
I float above the room
out the window, between bare branches
follow the river of migrating blackbirds,
rise with the moon
dance with the wind

Somewhere the child I was is wailing
I grieve the loss of mother
accept that for now I am mothering her
and myself as well

I hold her hands
feel the bones so near the surface
sense her spirit not yet unbound
release my claim on her being
releasing with love
enduring, dreaming, dancing with spirit

I imagine heartbeats:  hers fainter, mine steady
all centered, aligned with the universe
praying for patience, praying for endurance
praying for the gift of
allowing grace.

bleoved on the earth:  150 poems of grief and gratitude

Flashlight of Gratitude

Frequently families I am journeying with in the dying process ask me, "How do you do this all the time?"
Often I respond by saying it is on honor to share such sacred time with people and to walk with them on holy ground.
Today I stumble upon a new answer.   In her book, Attitudes of Gratitude, M.J. Ryan quotes a friend who said, "Gratitude is like a flashlight.  If you go out in your yard at night and turn on a flashlight, you suddenly can see what's there.  It was always there, but you couldn't see it in the dark."
Spending time with people at the end of life is a flashlight of gratitude for me.  It shines light on the things that can easily go unnoticed: laughter shared with a friend, the sun sparkling on snow, a hug from my kid for no special reason, a meal shared with loved ones and an appetite to enjoy it,  the bird's song as an alarm clock, the freedom to move,  a smile from a stranger.
I am grateful for the work that I do, because it makes my life brighter.

Quote of the Day

A woman whose husband recently died said, "Don't mind me.  My brain is in the blender."  That perfectly describes  the cognitive impact of grief.

Denial has gotten a bad rap.  Elizabeth Kubler Ross did wonderful work in raising awareness about death and dying.  However, I think our cultural misunderstood her work to mean that denial is a bad thing that a person needs to move out of as quickly as possible.  By companioning people through the dying process, I have come to see denial as coping mechanism.  It is a wall of protection that people need until they no longer need it.  If we bulldoze the wall down in an effort to get people to except the harsh reality that they are not yet ready to face, then we leave them with no means of protection.  Rather than bulldozing through a person’s wall of denial I have found it is better to stand with them behind the wall giving them courage to take the wall down brick by brick as they are ready.

I like what Melody Beattie says about denial in her book, The Language of Letting Go.  She writes, “Denial is a protective device, a shock absorber for the soul.  It prevents us from acknowledging reality until we feel prepared to cope with that particular reality.  People can shout and scream the truth at us, but we will not see or hear it until we are ready.   We are sturdy yet fragile beings.  Sometimes, we need time to get prepared, time to ready ourselves to cope.  We do not let go of our need to deny by beating ourselves into acceptance; we let go of our need to deny by allowing ourselves to become safe and strong enough to cope with the truth.  We do this, when the time is right.  We will know what we need to know, when it is time to know it.”

The truth of the statement, “We will know what we need to know, when it is time to know it,” was played out in a woman who was living into the reality of her mother’s death.  Four months after her mother died she said to me,  “I think of her as being on vacation.”  She was expecting me to say, “Are you crazy?  Your mom is dead.”  I could literally see her relief when I said, “That is ok.  When you are ready to think differently you will.”  Six months later she is thinking differently.  The wall came down brick by brick and she is now using those bricks to rebuild a new life without her mom.

Smile at suffering

Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk writes these words that I found powerful, "Life is both dreadful and wonderful. How can I smile when I am filed with so much sorrow? It is natural-you need to smile to your sorrow because you are more than your sorrow."
That made me smile.

Dance with a limp

"You will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over he loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through. It is like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly-that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp." Anne Lamott

Dying to Know Bringing Death to Life

I recently came across a book that speaks of death and grief in a frank and refreshing way, Dying to Know Bringing Death to Life. Here are some quotes that jumped out at me.

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I have learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, talking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity." Gilda Radnaer

"Grief has no measure."

"Drive like a loved one is coming the other way. Someone's is"

"Ears are vey useful when a friend is grieving. You're not expected to have any answers. Just listen."

"If they are dying, they're about to lose everything: relationships, home, dignity, health, favorite books, sunday sleep-ins, beach holidays, wine, long walks, friends, going out to dinner, building bonfires, kisses, overseas trips, barbecued sausages, assets, reading bedtime stories, birthdays, all-time favorite album, children laughing, the smell of mown grass, breathing sea air, dodging rain showers, sunrises and sunsets, wind in the hair, coffee brewing, music and poetry. EVERYTHING. Expect them to be a bit grumpy from time to time."

Hints for Coping with Grief During the Holidays

Life is never the same after experiencing the death of a loved one and neither can the holidays. However, one can learn to cope with the holidays by:

*Acknowledging the holidays cannot be the same again

*Lowering expectations-the goal is to survive

*Anticipating that emotions will intensify

*Giving yourself permission to feel

*Expressing your feelings

*Planning ahead

*Being flexible, abandon the plan if it doesn't feel right

*Telling others what you need

*Take Care of yourslef

The Why of Suicide

Two teenagers in the Stillwater area died in a suicide pact this week. The questions will forever remain questions for their family and friends. Sometimes we can live into the answers to life's biggest questions, but the questions surfaced from the wake of a loved one's suicide continue to come crashing over one's life.
The whys are disturbing and abrasive, perplexing and confusing. The whys are an unwelcome guest that continues to knock at our door. The door must be opened. The questions must be asked even though the answers may not be found.
There is little comfort in the unanswered questions, but I do find hope in knowing that I am never alone in the asking. People have been asking the difficult questions of life for centuries. Whether one is a believer or not, the unanswerable questions are often addressed to God. I take comfort in knowing that God holds the questions for us. God is with us in the asking and in the waiting for answers.

Ann Weems in Psalms of Lament writes:

O God, explain to me the cruelty of your world!
Make sense of those who make no sense!
Tell me why the faithful are shunned,
and the self-righteous point their fingers!
Tell me why the wounded are wounded,
and sorrow falls on the the shoulder of sorrow!
Tell me why the abuse are abused,
and the victims victimized!
Tell me why the rains come to the drowning,
and aftershocks follow earthquakes.
O God, is this any way to run a world?
O Merciful One, let us rest between tragedies!

Speak to us for we are your people.
Speak to us of hope for the hopeless
and love for the unloved
and homes for the homeless
and dignity for the dying
and respect for the disdained.

Speak to us, O God,
of the Resurrected One!
Speak to us of hope,
for in spite of the tidal wave of tears,
we remember your story of new life!

Tell the world again,
O God of creation!
Tell us that winter will fade,
and spring will wash us anew,
and the world will green again,
and we will be new creations
in the garden of our God.
Free us from these tentacles of sorrow,
and we will fall on our faces,
and worship you,
O God of goodness,
O God of a new green world!

Learn to Dance with a Limp

"You will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through. It is like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly-that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with a limp." Anne Lamott

The South Dakota Prairie

Grief is like the South Dakota prairie, endless.
Stretching in every direction, expansive.
A weather beaten abandoned house sits empty, lonely.
Cows seek shelter from the sun's brutal rays, exposed.
The Badlands, a baked rocky desert, relentless
The Black Hills, a refreshing reprieve.
Then the expansive, endless Wyoming prairie, grief returns.

Soul's Soil Shared

Gardens growing side by side
incarnate beauty with brilliant brightness
sharing color in life's shades of grey.
Powerful, positive, presence,
like a sunflower seeking suckling sun's rays,
calling forth life's light.

Gardens growing side by side.
Yours, well tilled with nurturing toil, in fed soil.
Nutrient sucking weeds discerning destructive,
pulled, giving life's light to budding blossoms uncovered.

Gardens growing side by side.
Mine, pale comparison,
with wild weeds deceptive.
I, from you,wise weeding woman,
learned to be an earth tender.
Pulling, old rooted weeds.
Discovering, my garden's beauty beneath,
like wild flowers under the forest's blanket.

Gardens growing side by side.
Sharing plots, poised and planted.
God the Gardener,"Grace."
Fed in freindship,
watered in Word,
growing in splendor.

Gardens growing side by side.
Yours, now, transplanted.
Love lingers,fertilizing my soul's soil,
with your eternal beauty.

Words worth pondering

A friend shared this thought with me after her brother died. They are the words of A. Powell Davies from his book, Prayers for Healing.
"When sorrow comes, let us accept it simply, as part of life. Let the heart be open to pain; let it be stretched by it. All the evidence we have says it is the better way. An open heart never grows bitter. Or if it does, it cannot remain so. In the desolate hour, there is an outcry; a clenching of the hands upon emptiness; a burning pain of bereavement; a weary ache of loss. but anguiish, like ecstasy is not forever. There comes a gentleness, a returning quietness, a restoring stillness. This, too is a door to life. Here, also, is a deepening of meaning-and it can lead to dedication; a going forward to the triumph of the soul, conquering of the wilderness and in the process will come a deepening inward knowledge that in the final reckoning all is well."

Caregiving, The Paradox

Caregiving, it gives life.
Compassion shared,
patience granted,
empathy bestowed.

Life is given.
In hearing other's stories we are invited onto sacred ground.
Life is honored.
While engaging others, we encounter God.
Life is drained.
Caregiving, the paradox, it drains life.
Powerless to stop it, death comes defying our efforts.
Helpless to fix it, the pain of grief consumes.
Grief drains, questions plague, energy flees.

Life is paradox, death the teacher.
to celebrate simplicity,
to live the questions,
to embrace the essence.

Death, friend and foe, helps me,
to focus on the essentials;
faith, family, friends
to honor the Holy within and without
to cherish the gifts of living and loving

Give sorrow words...

"Give sorrow words..." Shakespeare
Shakespeare certainly had a better grasp on the written word than I do, so maybe that is why I find it difficult to give sorrow words. Sometimes there are no words.

Presence in the Valleys

Valleys are:
dark
long
cold
scary

Presence brings:
light
endurance
warmth
courage

Spirit Blow Through Me

Spirit blow through me
blow away stagnant staleness
blow away road worn weariness
blow away faithless fear

Grace wash over me
Soften the hard edges
refresh the parched places
shine the dulled luster

Spirit blow through me
blow in fresh starts
blow in new energy
blow in perfect peace