Category Archives: Grieving

Not All Bad (Continued from yesterday)

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Peter’s badly chosen comment at the moment of Christ’s revealed glory brought a screeching halt to the supernatural experience for him and his companions. When God instructed him to listen to Jesus, he and his fellow disciples fell to the ground in terror. After that, they didn’t hear a thing.

When they came to, it was all over. Jesus’ clothes had lost their brightness, and his shining face had returned to normal. Were Jesus’ purposes (in bringing Peter, James and John along) accomplished? We don’t know how long his face shone and his clothes were as lightning, but we do know he wanted these 3 men to see him that way. Did they learn anything?

Maybe since the crucifixion was soon to happen, he wanted them to get a glimpse of what would come after his suffering. Or maybe he wanted them to visualize that he was not merely the man they’d lived with but the God-man, deserving of God’s glory.

Though they didn’t listen well that day, they saw what Jesus wanted them to see. As for Peter hoping to hold onto Jesus, Moses and Elijah, his comment might not have been as nonsensical as it first seemed.

The whole incident reminded me of a poignant dream I had about Nate after he died. (One Year Ago: Part III and IV, Oct. 18 & 19, 2010) In the dream I knew Nate had entered a supernatural world, but when I saw him back on earth, I clung to him, just like Peter wanted to hold Jesus, Moses and Elijah. My emotions were burning with desire, and if I couldn’t keep Nate from leaving my world, I thought I might collapse.

Peter must have felt the same way. He was fervently attached to Jesus and sensed his teacher and friend would soon slip away. He might have made his 3-tents-statement hoping to prolong the moment and borrow time to think. He had no way of knowing what was ahead, how/when Jesus would leave the earth or if/when he’d be back.

Interestingly, Jesus didn’t resent Peter’s off-the-subject statement or his attempt to usurp the lead or even his failure to listen. Instead, after Moses and Elijah had gone, he approached all 3 of them and touched them tenderly, coaxing them up off the ground, away from fear, and back toward him. Although they’d missed virtually everything that had been said, they apparently got the drift enough to satisfy Jesus, because as they hiked back down the mountain, he told them to keep it all a secret.

Jesus knows we long for him. It’s even possible he sees our desire as an act of adoration and worship. If that’s the case, Peter’s outburst turns out to be a pretty good one after all.

Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.”  (Matthew 17:4)

Cry it out.

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I’ve always been impressed when actors cry on cue. Recently I read the biography of Melissa Gilbert who played the part of Laura Ingalls on the TV series “Little House on the Prairie.” When an episode called for tears, she’d separate herself, close her eyes, and withdraw into a sad memory, focusing on it until she’d brought it from her past into her present. After several minutes, real tears would come.

I wonder if there’s a difference between coaxed tears and those that come when we’re trying to hold them back. If examined under a microscope, would scientists be able to tell the difference?

My friend Barb Ingraham wrote, “When scientists studied human tears, they discovered the purpose of the tears determined their chemical composition. Tears to cleanse foreign objects were different from tears of sorrow, which were different from tears of joy.”

When I read that, I thought immediately of our God who delights in tending to details, assigning a purpose to each one. He cares about our crying, keeps track of our tears, and ministers to the reason for our weeping. And it gets even better than that. God uses the product of our grief, the tears themselves, to help us. Barb wrote, “Tears of sorrow actually have natural anti-depressants that cause a literal lift in body and spirit.” We have an awesome, helpful God!

When I was a newlywed, I awoke one night feeling sad about something (can’t recall what) and started to cry. Climbing out of bed and heading into the next room, I sat on the couch and bawled my eyes out, wishing Nate would wake up and come looking for me. I desperately needed his arms around me but wasn’t going to wake him.

I sat on the couch sobbing for 15 minutes or so when suddenly there he stood in the doorway, his eyebrows up and his mouth hanging open. “What’s wrong?” he said.

“I’m sad.”

“What should I do?”

I looked up at him with my wet face and runny nose, aching to have him enfold me in his arms but wanting him to initiate it. (Such was the mindset of a newlywed.) Because he couldn’t think of anything else to do, he sat down next to me and put his arms around me, exactly what I’d longed for.

I melted into him with a tremendous sense of relief and gratitude. Before long my crying calmed to a sniffle, and we both went back to bed. The crisis had passed, because of his love.

Each of us cries because of a crisis, and it’s God’s love that can bring us through. We see it in his design of our specific tears, realizing he knows why we’re hurting and, more importantly, knows what we need. Whether it’s reassurance of his love or something more, he’ll make sure we get it. He may not take away our crisis, but he’ll be our shoulder to cry on as we move through it.

And he makes this additional promise:

“They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.” (Psalm 126:5)

Pushing Forward

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Our family has now passed the 2nd anniversary of Nate’s death. Before I left for California last week, I sent a group email to my children (7 kids, 2 in-law kids), detailing how I was feeling about the anniversary and where I was in my grieving, asking if they would please share how they were doing, too.

Reading through their responsive messages as they came to my inbox, my heart was flooded with love and hope. So, as an encouragement to all of you who wonder if your grief will ever lift, here are snippets from their heartfelt emails. (Since I’m doing this without permission, their names have been withheld.)

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  • There were so many things we loved about Papa. His dedication to us all and so many others was obvious by the way he worked so determinedly and freely gave himself to the work God entrusted to him. He cared for you, Mom, so well, and all of us were unconditionally blessed to have had such a great father.
  • I’ve been good at moving forward as a person, but some days it just doesn’t feel right to move forward without Papa. It’s a strange feeling that’s difficult to put into words. I guess I feel like the more time goes by, the more I lose him for good.
  • Things come out as time goes on. I feel sad and miss him most when I’m far away. Nonetheless, I’m happy for all the time we had together.
  • He has “missed” 2 years of our family, growing, changing, and experiencing life. I have to choose not to dwell on that or it overwhelms me with sadness.
  • I’m very thankful we were all together when Papa was sick and when he died.
  • This second year I’ve been remembering more of the good things about that time. All the family dinners by the fire, the food people made for us, the way the Petersons were right there with us (esp. Bervin and Mary), and the last conversations we had with Papa.
  • He was a gracious person to me, and that was God’s character shining through.
  • Papa was an original.
  • I feel thankful for the years I had with Papa and all he did to make my life happy and full of blessing. I’m thankful for all he did to make my life that way even now, after he’s been gone. I’m also thankful to be able to fall back on the thought of seeing him again someday.
  • I miss Papa a lot, and sometimes it feels really unfair that he’s gone. We can’t call him or ask for advice or hear his laugh. But as he would say, “That’s life, kid,” and he’d push forward.  So that’s what we have to do. Push forward.
  • Papa showed us there was humor to be found even in the seriousness of life, and he laughed at strange things, but mostly he laughed at himself.
  • It’s hard to surpass Papa’s generosity. 
  • I love remembering how warm and sunny it was the day of the funeral and how so many people who loved Papa came to pay their respects. I also remember how your stocking, Mom, was sliding down at the graveside, and you didn’t want to stand up to throw the rose because of it. Even during one of the saddest moments, God gave us something to laugh about.
  • Papa was a scholar, a hard worker, selfless, had limitless generosity, a godly man, a loving man, and he is being rewarded now for all these things.
  • I still miss him and think of him every day.
  • I wish we weren’t spread out across the globe. It seems like we should all be in the house together on Thursday night, sitting in a circle by the fire, eating Chinese and talking about Papa.
  • In Philippians, Paul is at the end of his life and seems to know it. To be at the end and talk about rejoicing and how his life was “poured out like a drink offering” for the faith of others, made me think of Papa.
  • I am who I am partly because of the father I had.
  • My overall feeling today is gratitude and respect for Papa.
  • Today I feel sad but very loved.
  • Papa will always be missed while we are still at home in the body. It’s difficult now to go on without him, but it’s such a joy and comfort to know that a day will come when we will be reunited in the presence of Jesus.

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“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4)