By Joan Endicott
While driving home from a conference recently, we were enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon along with the incredible color palettes of autumn: the rich golds and yellows, the brilliant reds, and the deep, dark greens—and every combination in between.
Traffic began to slow as we drove past a well-manicured cemetery that sits high atop a ridge, where the beautiful view is, my mind simply making note of the lovely locations of so many cemeteries. Then I saw him—a tall, slender silver-haired gentleman standing all alone, one hand in his dress-pant pocket, his other hand cradling the side of his face as he looked down toward a gravestone. Without time to even process, tears welled up automatically as I thought of his loss, wondering, is it his wife he grieves for, or another loved one? I prayed silently, “Dear Jesus, please hold and comfort him as only you can—giving him your peace that passes all understanding.”
Then, I thought of Leo Buscaglia’s story. Leo told about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child; the winner was a four-year-old boy. His next-door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into this gentleman’s yard, climbed into his lap and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, “Nothing. I just helped him cry.”
Though not knowing yet presupposing that the man in the cemetery was grieving for his beloved, my soul ached deeply for his—while offering another passionate prayer that neither my beloved nor I would ever know that kind of grief. I wondered about his story. Does he know The Savior who offers eternal life—giving him hope beyond this life and this grave? Does he have others who provide care and compassion—who, as the four-year-old boy poignantly demonstrated, simply sit with him and help him cry? My thoughts naturally drifted from his grief to another loved one’s grief, then eventually to my own.
It’s been a year of huge loss, enormous heartache, and one grief after another for so many. It’s painful no matter how or when grief arrives as an unwanted—suffocating—companion. If you, too, are in this season, I’m so deeply sorry for all you are suffering, my friend. Your pain is normal. Your feelings are legitimate. You’re not alone.
At the most recent memorial service we attended, a best friend of the deceased shared with me, “I’ve come to realize that at this age, this is what life holds for me now…it’s a season of ongoing loss.” Christians do grieve differently, yet we grieve so very deeply.
Grief is an ongoing journey, as Donna Ashworth captures so well in the following:
You don’t just lose someone once.
You lose them over and over, sometimes in the same day.
When the loss, momentarily forgotten, creeps up, and attacks you from behind.
Fresh waves of grief as the realization hits home, they are gone.
Again.
You don’t just lose someone once, you lose them every time you open your eyes to a new dawn,
and as you awaken, so does your memory, so does the jolting bolt of lightning that rips into your heart, they are gone.
Again.
Losing someone is a journey, not a one-off.
There is no end to the loss, there is only a learned skill on how to stay afloat,
when it washes over.
Be kind to those who are sailing this stormy sea, they have a journey ahead of them, and a daily shock to the system each time they realize, they are gone.
Again.
You don’t just lose someone once, you lose them every day, for a lifetime.
–-Donna Ashworth
I can so relate to this with having my own mom leave this earth when she was only 46 years old and I was 23. I can’t begin to count the times I’ve so longed for a mom who I could have called to share something great to celebrate, or to console, hug and comfort me when suffering life’s heartaches. I feel it’s important for me to share this as well. My mom was not healthy before passing—neither physically nor in other ways, so it’s not my mom as she was that I miss, rather, a healthy mom/daughter relationship. I’m grateful for learning the importance of grieving the lack of that kind of relationship as well. We get to give ourselves grace to grieve all loss: through death, of course, but also any other category of loss—rejection, estranged relationships, what might have been, etc. The death of a dream or relationship can be equally devastating.
Have you given yourself the grace to grieve any and all loss? If not, I want to share something that has helped my clients in over 30 countries find a new sense of freedom in this area: the practice of self-compassion. I know that for most of us, especially if our childhood lacked compassion, it’s a completely foreign concept. Though unnatural at first, once learned, you can change how you think about yourself, and your self-talk shifts from critical to compassionate. Just imagine the difference this would make for you! Amid loss, heartbreak and grief, our parched souls are desperately yearning for the quenching effect that love, patience and kindness provide. Because you, more than any person on this planet, know the width and depth of your hurt, who better to provide the desired compassion to you, than you?
Dr. Kristin Neff, researcher and expert on self-compassion, shares: “Having compassion for oneself is really no different than having compassion for others. Derived from Latin, the term refers to how we’re with (com) suffering (passion). Think about times when you’ve felt compassion for a close friend who was suffering. First, to experience compassion you have to actually notice that your friend is struggling or feeling badly about themselves. Second, if what you feel is compassion (rather than pity), you realize that suffering, failure, and imperfection is part of the shared human experience. ‘There but for fortune go I.’ Finally, you respond to your friend with warmth, understanding, and kindness—feeling the desire to help in some way. These are the three main elements of compassion: mindfulness, common humanity, and kindness.
“Self-compassion simply involves doing a U-turn and giving yourself the same compassion you’d naturally show a friend when you’re struggling or feeling badly about yourself. It means being supportive when you’re facing a life challenge, feel inadequate, or make a mistake. Instead of just ignoring your pain with a ‘stiff upper lip’ mentality or getting carried away by your negative thoughts and emotions, you stop to tell yourself ‘this is really difficult right now,’ how can I comfort and care for myself in this moment?” –Dr. Kristin Neff
To help you get started, here is a simplified version of exercises I teach. It’s essential to give yourself the time and space to do this—ongoing! Keep a journal just for your important self-compassion journey.
Joan’s A B C’s of Self-Compassion:
A – Attitude of Loving Kindness to Yourself.
You are an image-bearer! Ask the Lord to help you learn to love yourself as the wonderful creation you are. Think and speak to yourself the way you would to your best friend and loved ones. Ask yourself “What would I say to my loved one in this same situation?” Then, “What else?” Keep going! The deeper you go, the sooner you experience greater freedom.
B – Be Mindful.
Being aware and open to the realities of the present moment are necessary for offering ourselves compassion. When you are in a painful place and somehow suffering, acknowledging this is the first step in getting through it in the healthiest way. It’s natural for us to go right into trying to FIX it, rather than first letting ourselves FEEL it. Please, FEEL FIRST, then fixing comes more naturally. Ask yourself, “Have I given myself the soul space, place n’ grace to fully feel this?” Then follow up with, “What more could I do to let myself fully feel this?”
C – Common Humanity.
Feeling separated, alone, or isolated can be a downward spiral which leads us into a dark dungeon of despair. If not challenged, it can keep us on a self-shaming, critical mental merry-go-round. We have the power to interrupt negative thought patterns and destructive dialogue by simply reminding ourselves that all loss, grief, struggle and suffering is part of the human condition—common to all humanity. Ask yourself, “What am I feeling right now?” Then, “What compassion can I offer myself in this time of grief, loss struggle or suffering?”
Whatever you are going through, please remember you are not alone. While I pray these ideas and tools serve you well, it’s important that you have a loving and supportive church community. As I have walked the most grievous times in my life, it is the Jesus-loving, Bible-believing, prayer-warrior “Davids” who I relied upon as I trusted them to stand in the gap, doing battle for me against my “Goliaths” when I could not do it for myself. While we know that grief is the price of love, it is Jesus’ love and ultimate sacrifice that does give us HOPE beyond this life—beyond this grave.
Aren’t we blessed beyond measure to have such lavish hope, my friend?
Grab your FREE copy of Joan Endicott’s “I Get To!”® book at www.JoanEndicott.com. Also, be one of the first to get her 2nd book,“I Get To!”® Own My Worth! Joan is an Award-Winning Keynote Speaker, Author and Coach whose coaching has reached over 30 countries. Find out more about her speaking and coaching here: www.JoanEndicott.com
Author’s note: For more on Joan’s personal grief journey this year, see her prior column in the Sept./Oct. issue.
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