He is so often in the past because that's where he left his boy and where he can still find him. Not the actual past exactly but his memory of the past, a past distilled and refined, a past that makes sense, a story not a circumstance. The past, then, is malleable, not fixed.~John Dufresne (From My Darling Boy)
I hadn't expected that grief would feel so like an ambush. That's not my word. It's the phrase used in the Grief Share group I'm in. A "Grief Ambush," states the workbook. That's when something comes out of the blue--a smell, a song, a location, or a memory that surfaces suddenly when you least expect it. Then you're crying in the grocery store or numbed out scrolling on your phone or your body so exhausted it seems a tire is encircling your neck. Pulling you down. Or you wake up at 1:30 a.m. and can't go back to sleep, your brain sprinting around an endless track of thoughts and feelings and what ifs and shoulds. And the culture doesn't adapt to these ambushes. "Time to move on. There are a million things to take care of." "It'll be okay." "You know you'll see your loved one again." The Grief Share workbook calls these pithy phrases "motivational soundbites." Ugh. Not helpful. (Surely though said with good intentions.)
I didn't foresee that I'd feel as sad as I do when my brother-in-law died. I've even felt guilty that I'm taking his death as hard as I am. I mean, I've lost people before. My sister, a good friend, a colleague I worked with most everyday for fifteen years. Aren't I more resilient than this by now? The Grief Share facilitator reminds the group, "Don't compare your grief process with other peoples' experience." I guess that means not comparing my own past losses as well. "Everyone grieves differently and that's okay. Go at your own pace," he consoles. I notice in the group there are people attending with "fresh" losses, in the last months, even in the last weeks. Others two years ago or eight years ago, but say they've never talked about the death, never felt permission to mourn aloud.
Last night in the group, the gentle facilitator asked each of us to say (if we wanted to--you never have to say anything if you don't want to) what we most miss about the loved one who is no longer here. I said I found myself going back in time to remember Mario. "He looked like my husband," I said. "Those same emerald green eyes that take your breath away in the sunlight. And he was the one who linked my husband and me twenty-five years ago, before social media, before the internet was so common. He could have put that letter I sent in the "return to sender" pile. Just tossed it. But he didn't set my words aside. I guess I most miss that historical gesture. I miss him. It feels like he's still here. But he's not." The words poured out of me and i realized it felt like a relief to finally express them to others. And nobody scolded me, nor hurried me to finish the missing of my brother-in-law. I could see heads nodding with understanding, with comfort. I felt heard.
The Grief Share facilitator said to us before we parted, "Do the next thing each day." That's a good idea, because the world goes on and there's plenty to do. And I tell myself it's okay to stay just a little longer when I go back in my memory to the place where I can still find Mario.
Shine your light, Jesus
What do you have for me today?
Shine your light, Jesus
Show me the way. ~Kari Kristina Reeves (From Canyon Road, A Book Of Prayer)
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.~ Mary Oliver (From In Blackwater Woods)
I would have preferred to stand on the shoreline to say my goodbyes. Instead, I walked to the park inside my condo community and sat at a picnic table located underneath the shade of an oak tree. It was early morning and not yet hot. A light breeze rustled the tree branches and I could see a few geese gently entering the water at a nearby pond. A bird flew near me and settled on a fence post. I wished I could reach out and touch the little bird. It was so close, I could see the shining black bead of its eye, see the outline of feathers on its breast. But of course, it would fly away if I went near. So I stayed put and talked to my friend who had recently passed away. Yesterday I attended her memorial service.
The poem by Mary Oliver was on the back of the memorial program. I sensed my friend was saying to all of us who loved her, "Let go now. I'm free. I'm okay. I'm more than okay. I'm healed and enjoying life in the Kingdom. But you are still living and have more days to walk by faith, to live in this world."
I told my friend that she'd modeled living in this world so well for me, that I prayed I could reflect the traits she exhibited so beautifully. It was synchronus that I sat at a picnic table. A few years ago, she invited me for a picnic at a verdant park near our homes. We each brought our sack lunches and did what we always did when we got together--talked politics and faith, books and authors, fitness goals, dreams for our lives, how much we loved our families, and what we were reading in the Bible. Aways lots of laughter, and tears, too, at times. Then as we walked to our cars, she said, "Priscilla, I have something for you. I opened a purple gift bag and removed a coffee mug. On the side of the mug written in turquoise lettering were these words, "Go to the place where you feel most alive." My friend said, "I thought of you when I saw this cup and wanted you to have it."
My friend, I think, was already practicing the phrase on the cup and wanted to pass on the imperative to me.
I brought myself out of the memory of the picnic lunch and said aloud in the quiet solitude of the morning. "I know you'd want me to let go, to keep embracing each day with gratitude and faith in God. But I'll miss you, even though I know I'll see you again. I'll really miss you." And it's as if I heard her voice, "I know, Priscilla. I know. Living in this world is sometimes very painful. And you'll be okay. I know you will." I turned my head to look at the bird on the fence post, startled to find it was still there. "Thank you for sitting with me, little bird," I whispered. And then, the bird cocked its head, raised its wings and flew away. And I watched the bird fly away into the distance, until I couldn't see it any more.
I've had an opportunity to share some of my writing journey with a writer's group at my church. The following is the handout I created for the class. I pray it will be helpful to you as well.
R.S.V.P.
I pray the name of Jesus over you
Like a banner waving
Victory and joy ~ From Canyon Road, A Book Of Prayer by Kari Kristina Reeves
As I was preparing this teaching, I realized the first letters of the components I wanted to highlight contained the French expression, Répondez s’il vous plait. This translates, “Please respond,” or “Reply if it pleases you.” I believe as writers, this could be the invitation the Lord asks us to consider. “I’ve invited you to write, use the gifting and talent I’ve supplied to you, anointed you with. Please respond. I’d love to see you at the word festival.”
The following are ideas to keep in mind as you respond to His invitation:
READ
Reading often partners well with writing.
What do you enjoy reading? What is your writing genre? How do the two intertwine for you?
I find that if my reading slows down, I risk leaving new worlds that enhance my writing.
Keep your writing fresh by reading a genre you don’t usually prefer. What might you learn, and how might this influence your writing style?
Schedule a classic every now and then. Something, perhaps, you’ve wanted to read but just haven’t gotten to.
SAFETY
As writers, we often become excited about sharing a piece we’ve written, much like a chef may desire a person to enjoy her culinary expression. Sometimes, however, even the individuals we believe will most enjoy our writing may not. A disappointing or critical reaction has potential to derail projects. One day as I took a walk, I noted a neighbor had dumped pens and beautiful journals, watercolors and brushes in a heap by his trash can. I felt sad and wondered if this person had received negative or toxic comments about pursuing art. As you move forward, pray about who might be safe to share your projects with. Of course, you’re not looking for, “Oh, this is so great! Don’t change a thing. You’re a genius!” You want people to read your work who will concurrently honor your vulnerability and provide honest feedback. When the Lord leads you to these people, you will have discovered treasure and increased motivation to keep writing.
How have you managed negative responses to your writing? If you’ve experienced a dip in motivation, what might you need to increase your confidence and pick up your pen once again?
VOICE
There’s a lot of talk about “finding your writing voice.” That can be overwhelming to define; however, I don’t believe God wants it to be. The Lord creates our hearts to tune in to unique ideas and issues. I encourage you to anchor into what YOU notice. What creates excitement, what images, colors, locations, people, animals, periods in history, characters, authors you love inspire you? What is the Lord downloading in your dreams in your journaling, in your imagination? In the Word? The sky is the limit as God is the impeccable Master Creator. He designed us to create and so enjoys the collaboration with His beloved. He created you and your heart and your desires. Move toward those things and your voice emerges beautifully. And the reader needs your unique voice. No one else sounds like you. Think of this: an author you truly love publishes a new book—you can’t wait to read it, because you know her voice. You recognize that sound. If the world does not hear your voice, a gem of healing remains buried. Your voice is a healing vessel to the world.
If your writing was a soundtrack, what melody or artist would it most resemble?
PRACTICE
A lot of “shoulds” and “musts” can clutter our desks as it regards doing the writing. “You must write a thousand words a day.” “You should journal every day.” “You absolutely must have a specific location in which to write.” “There’s no way you can write a book and keep working a full-time job.” These “shoulds” and “musts,” “what ifs” and “comparisons to other writers” are all tools of the enemy to deter us from picking up the pen. Think of it like this: if we are developing a craft, we practice using the tools that keep us nimble and well-oiled. Like practicing musical scales. We do that consistently. We find a schedule that keeps us practicing regularly. And while we may draw ideas from others, consistency will look different for everyone. Sometimes, too, we may need to experiment with what works best. And at different seasons in life, our practice sessions may look different. The point is to keep responding to our Lord’s gracious invitation to write.
What does practice look like for you, dear writer?
ENCOURAGEMENT FOR THE JOURNEY (From a practice session)
It takes bravery to keep moving forward inside the writing landscape, though I’d never turn back. The topography can be bleak at times. Yet there are realms of beauty that often cause me to suck in my breath. Wondrous sights. Vaulted blue ceilings of sky, the sight of an open road that inspires the loveliness of solitude. And when loneliness invades, there is birdsong or a dark V-shape of geese flying overhead. A stand of trees or a bench situated by a lake. Pinpricks of stars glowing on a chilled evening at dusk. A crescent moon. Sometimes a fellow traveler, a backpack filled with images and words and ideas we share over a campfire together, singing songs we know by heart. Then parting ways, we each take our separate paths. A bear hug, that sweet embrace of someone who sees what’s hard and simultaneously understands it’s worth all the time spent in pursuit of writing things down.
So, keep going. Take courage. I’ll see you on the other side where all our books and words and images are stored and redeemed in the Kingdom Library. God’s grace and peace to you.
RESOURCES YOU MAY FIND HELPFUL (in no particular order)
The Right to Write, An Invitation and Initiation into the Writing Life by Julia Cameron (has great writing prompts)
The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron (Excellent 12-week study to help develop consistency)
Refuse To be Done, How to Write and Rewrite a Novel in Three Drafts by Matt Bell (Encouraging, doable, practical)
The Emotion Thesaurus, A Writer’s Guide to Character Expression (Love this one, especially, as I sometimes tend to overuse descriptive emotions and gestures for my characters)
Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (funny, will make you cry, inspiring and also practical , she sometimes uses salty language)
How To Write An Eye-Catching Book Proposal In 5 Easy Steps, The Beginner’s Guide to Getting Your Idea into Print by Jennifer Scott (Helpful, straight forward directives)
Several Short Sentences About Writing by Verlyn Klinkenborg (Favorite book about developing one’s writing craft)
4 Keys to Hearing God’s Voice by Mark and Patti Virkler (This is a School of the Heart selection—transformed my journaling practice)
The Art of Spiritual Writing by Vinita Hampton Wright (rather a stern voice, yet realistic regarding publishing goals)
Do you have the courage to bring forth this work? The treasures that are hidden inside you are hoping you will say “yes.” ~ Jack Gilbert
Moments
There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.
Like telling someone you love them.
Or giving your money away, all of it.
Your heart is beating, isn't it?
You're not in chains, are you?
There is nothing more pathetic than caution
when headlong might save a life,
even possibly, your own.~Mary Oliver
There are decisions to make every day. And the choices add up, good or not as good, over time. Then there are what I define as the big decisions. Who to marry, whether to get the degree, the career path, another child. Every season of life contains the "big ones." I thought at almost seventy years old, I had surpassed most of the major decisions. Surely I have to some degree, yet a choice I needed to consider emerged.
I had the opportunity to move forward with publishing my books in an expanded format. I felt excitement about having my books in other locations besides Amazon or ThriftBooks. I would be responsible for promotion and getting the word out, creating a TikTok platform and having to "face" Facebook again. There was monetary investment as well. The publisher exhibited enthusiasm about my work and encouraged me to think about "getting out there."
A part of me felt allured by the possibilities. I experienced a riptide of emotion thinking of working at a more accelerated pace regarding my writing. Yet there was another part of my heart that wasn't into moving faster. Who knows how much time there is left in a life. I'm closer to the end than I am to the beginning, or even the middle. Then a brief moment caught me off gaurd. My 10-year-old grandson gave me a hug hello when I dropped by to see him. His warm arms around my neck, the smell of his minty breath from just-brushed teeth, almost brought me to tears. I realized that my time with him was ephemeral. Life moves fast. He was already ten. I wanted as much of him as I could get in these next years. His teenage sister too. I knew myself. I'd spend too much time on social media and doing all the things I believed needed to be done to "get the word out."
I ran headlong to the door of "I love the life I have now," pressed down on the handle and stepped over the threshold. I love to write at my own velocity. I need time alone with God so I can write. I want less of social media, not more. There were a few voices that whispered, "Take a risk, take this opportunity with the books." And I did.
Really, life is all about walking in love.~Mary Lou Dayton
She has bright, quilted banners hanging on her walls that proclaim "peace" and "hope." Framed photos of loved ones artfully line her shelves. The screened-in porch is appointed with red cushions tied to wrought iron chairs. A pot of flowers sits on the table. Sunlight pours into her lovely apartment as we sit and talk. She is one of those people who makes direct eye contact when she listens. She hears and sees you. She remembers what you say.
Dr. Gerry Ken Crete, author of Litanies of the Heart, describes a humble person like this: Humility consists in being precisely the person you actually are before God. We become down-to-earth and comfortable in our own skins. We no longer try to compete with everyone else, and we no longer need to be affirmed by everyone else. We realize we have many gifts and talents as well as limitations and weakneses. We don't try to be more or less than who we are. There is a tremendous amount of relief that comes with being humble. And there is a tremendous amount of relief in being with my friend who imbues this definition of humility.
My friend is bearing a difficult burden, a challenging diagnosis. She is suffering. She struggles to speak as we sit across from one another. Now in the midst of all her lovely art is medical equipment and numerous bottles of medication. I ask, "Perhaps I can read to you?"
She hands me her Bible. I open it and as I turn the pages I see numerous notations written in the margins, her handwriting elegant, graceful. I cry out, "How wonderful to have this Bible all these years, these notes preserved in your beautiful script." She nods, her eyes luminous, gleaming with intelligence. We look up various passages, She says in a labored whisper, "Psalm 23 is my favorite, the Lord always leading me by quiet waters." Then we move to Psalm 91. Psalm 28. Revelation 22. And as I read, I make declarations from the Word:
"Thank you, Lord, that you make us to lie down in green pastures, that your rod and staff comfort us. We are grateful that goodness and love follow us all our days."
"Lord we rejoice that your faithfulness is our shield and rampart--that under your wings we find refuge."
"We are grateful, Lord, that you invite us to come to you and take the free gift of the water of life. Yes, Lord, thank you for slaking our thirst."
"Thank you, Lord, that you hear our cry for mercy, that you are our strength. Thank you that you are our Shepherd and carry us forever."
We could feel the presence and radiance of the Lord sitting together in that light-filled apartment with the photos and the medical equipment and the banners on the walls. He sat with us. Then my friend said, "Look in the back of the Bible. There is a notecard there." It read, "We have the victory. The battle is the Lord's."
My friend is a woman holding life loosely and gently in her hands. She continues to walk in love and humility, trusting her Savior in all things. Carried forever in His embrace.