Supporting people who are grieving and going through painful transitions has been at the heart of what by the way has been about, since our beginning days some 3 years ago. In many and various ways, we’ve tried to be a community living this message: God walks with you through good times and awful times, and we’ll all walk together to make this good news real.
By the way will again be holding our “Service of the Longest Night,” a time of reflection and prayer, acknowledging that the pre-Christmas season is not merry for everyone. For those who live anywhere near the Nashua NH area, this can be an in-person experience (Thurs. 7pm at the Crowne Plaza, at exit 8). For others, this can be a virtual experience of community, beginning here with this blog post, and continuing on through the week. Feel free to leave your comment, whether you’re one in need of support or one willing to offer it to others.
If you’ve been to this blog before, you may have noticed our community is formed as we dive into a piece of God’s word and see how it intersects with our lives and with the world around us. This week we’ll start with Psalm 42, which you can find at this link: http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=127903163
This psalm starts with being honest about a painful need, a need for understanding and company, a need for God. The honesty takes this hurting poet on a journey… of memories, soul-searching longing, and eventually: hope.
I tried a little creative project of my own, re-writing this psalm for those searching for relief from loss during this holiday time. My hope is that it would get you thinking about what you’d like to ask of God… and of God’s messengers, like the btw community you find here.
So here’s my attempt at a re-write:
Pre-Christmas Grief a la Psalm 42
As a deer leans forward, aching for water,
so am I thirsty for you, O God.
I so need to know that you haven’t dumped me.
I have to somehow see your face.
I’ve sobbed myself dry; still relief eludes me.
I ponder good times, but they feel far away.
Christmas songs in the air
leave me breathless with loss.
Deeper I sink, ‘til there’s just nothing left,
nothing but you, God, nothing but you.
I grope in the darkness, some presence is there.
I remember you once were a rock in my storms.
I’ll give trust a try; I’ll peek out of this hole,
But you, God — oh please, God —
must make a move, too.
Hum your tune as I sleep,
so I’ll wake warmed with song.
Let me feel my wounds healing,
and I’ll know you have come.
Confident once more,
I’ll have hope for tomorrow,
My whole life a prayer, to the God of my soul.
I’d love to see your re-write, too, if you feel so inclined. Just click on comment below.
For more exploring, here are some links to a Chicago song that’s always a good listen for me when I need permission to go ahead and feel.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJn7azWR2i8
http://www.oldielyrics.com/lyrics/chicago/feel.html
Let's all be watching out for those who are hurting, those who've lost jobs and homes, those who are missing loved ones who have died. Watching and praying...
God, we come to you during this Christmas season, many of us with pain growing inside us. As the nights have been growing longer, so has the darkness wrapped itself around our hearts. We need to know you are here… that you are here for us. Be our rock in the storm, God. Bring us safely home. In your name we pray... amen.
God’s peace,
Kari
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
What loss has brought you to your knees? by Heidi Jakoby
This week we are exploring loss and grief. What kinds of losses have you experienced in your life? Did it have a physical affect on you? How have you gotten through that grief?
As I read and reflected on the lesson for this week John11:32-44 http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John11:32-44&version=MSG this is the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. The part of this story that makes me wonder is Jesus physical reaction to the death of Lazarus. Jesus wept and he was physically disturbed by the death of Lazarus.
At the Women’s Conference 2009 http://www.californiawomen.org/ this week Maria Shriver and others spoke about their grief over the loss of a loved one and how they have been getting through each day.
I read the following in the Los Angeles Times: “Maria Shriver has long sought to protect her privacy as California's First Lady, but today she brought thousands to tears with an extraordinary evocation of her grief two months after the death of her mother, Eunice Kennedy Shriver. During a luncheon session at the Women's Conference she is chairing in Long Beach, Shriver told attendees that she stood before them "with a broken heart." She said she has told people that she is holding up well, but "the real truth is that I'm not fine.”
"The real truth is that my mother's death has brought me to my knees," she said. "I had feared this my entire life. . . . She was my hero, my role model, my very best friend. I spoke to her every single day of my life. I tried really hard when I grew up to make her proud of me." Maria Shriver has long sought to protect her privacy as California's First Lady, but today she brought thousands to tears with an extraordinary evocation of her grief two months after the death of her mother, Eunice Kennedy Shriver. (Here is the link to the entire article http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-maria-shriver28-2009oct28,0,5125731.story?track=rss )
Has grief or loss brought you to your knees? I know this has happened at least once in my life and when I think back to that day I need to not think of it for too long or else I can get lost there. Going on with grief is never easy but I know that those I have lost have taught me many things, but I still grieve.
Please comment on these thoughts and questions and consider joining us for Bread for your Journey this Thursday night at the Crowne Plaza Nashua NH 7PM. See you there.
As I read and reflected on the lesson for this week John11:32-44 http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John11:32-44&version=MSG this is the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. The part of this story that makes me wonder is Jesus physical reaction to the death of Lazarus. Jesus wept and he was physically disturbed by the death of Lazarus.
At the Women’s Conference 2009 http://www.californiawomen.org/ this week Maria Shriver and others spoke about their grief over the loss of a loved one and how they have been getting through each day.
I read the following in the Los Angeles Times: “Maria Shriver has long sought to protect her privacy as California's First Lady, but today she brought thousands to tears with an extraordinary evocation of her grief two months after the death of her mother, Eunice Kennedy Shriver. During a luncheon session at the Women's Conference she is chairing in Long Beach, Shriver told attendees that she stood before them "with a broken heart." She said she has told people that she is holding up well, but "the real truth is that I'm not fine.”
"The real truth is that my mother's death has brought me to my knees," she said. "I had feared this my entire life. . . . She was my hero, my role model, my very best friend. I spoke to her every single day of my life. I tried really hard when I grew up to make her proud of me." Maria Shriver has long sought to protect her privacy as California's First Lady, but today she brought thousands to tears with an extraordinary evocation of her grief two months after the death of her mother, Eunice Kennedy Shriver. (Here is the link to the entire article http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-maria-shriver28-2009oct28,0,5125731.story?track=rss )
Has grief or loss brought you to your knees? I know this has happened at least once in my life and when I think back to that day I need to not think of it for too long or else I can get lost there. Going on with grief is never easy but I know that those I have lost have taught me many things, but I still grieve.
Please comment on these thoughts and questions and consider joining us for Bread for your Journey this Thursday night at the Crowne Plaza Nashua NH 7PM. See you there.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
November's Deepening Spirit
As a kid, November was for me the dreariest of months. The reason was simple: I loved October and did not want to see it come to an end! October was the month of so many of my favorite things: my favorite color (orange), my favorite friends in the natural world (trees, in all their glory), and my favorite day (Oct. 27, my birthday, of course), just to name a few.
While that kid in me is still alive in full force, the grown-up in me sees a bit more going on in November. I see the dreariness, the darkening, the dying taking place in nature… and it makes me more aware of the deeper, darker things going on inside me and around me. I look out on my beloved trees naked and unadorned, and I think about who I am when all my decorative layers are stripped away... and who I will be when my life comes to an end.
There’s an honesty to this month that can be compelling. One of the things November reminds me to be honest about is death. Death is a part of life, whether I deny it or accept it, run from it or face it head on.
I was just about to write about why death is especially on my mind: that I have an uncle who is in the last stage of his battle with stomach cancer, and I’m wondering when the phone call will come. Before I could type the words, the phone call came.
My Uncle Art died this morning. It’s really true, I’m trying to convince myself. And I’m suddenly a mess of emotions… from gratefulness for all I’ve received from this dear person in my life… to anger that cancer eats away at our loved ones… to peacefulness in knowing his pain is over and he’s resting in God’s arms… to intense sadness for each person I know who will miss him so much. Including me.
Would you be willing to stop whatever it is that you were doing and pray with me? These words capture some of what I'm praying now:
O Living God, my listener, my savior… I don’t want to believe that death is real. I want to keep pretending I am invincible and so are the ones I love. But reality tells me otherwise. And so do you.
With your powerful Spirit, connect me to all those who grieve, all who are facing death, and all who are willing to care and to heal.
Hold us close. Give us strength to keep following Jesus, even when that way is painful. Fill us with confidence that through Jesus’ gift of life, we will live again after death… with you and those who have gone before us.
In Jesus’ name we pray…
Peace to you in your struggles and in your joys. Please feel free to share them, on this blog or over a cup of coffee… anytime. Thank you for your prayers, your spirit given in love.
~ Kari Henkelmann Keyl
While that kid in me is still alive in full force, the grown-up in me sees a bit more going on in November. I see the dreariness, the darkening, the dying taking place in nature… and it makes me more aware of the deeper, darker things going on inside me and around me. I look out on my beloved trees naked and unadorned, and I think about who I am when all my decorative layers are stripped away... and who I will be when my life comes to an end.
There’s an honesty to this month that can be compelling. One of the things November reminds me to be honest about is death. Death is a part of life, whether I deny it or accept it, run from it or face it head on.
I was just about to write about why death is especially on my mind: that I have an uncle who is in the last stage of his battle with stomach cancer, and I’m wondering when the phone call will come. Before I could type the words, the phone call came.
My Uncle Art died this morning. It’s really true, I’m trying to convince myself. And I’m suddenly a mess of emotions… from gratefulness for all I’ve received from this dear person in my life… to anger that cancer eats away at our loved ones… to peacefulness in knowing his pain is over and he’s resting in God’s arms… to intense sadness for each person I know who will miss him so much. Including me.
Would you be willing to stop whatever it is that you were doing and pray with me? These words capture some of what I'm praying now:
O Living God, my listener, my savior… I don’t want to believe that death is real. I want to keep pretending I am invincible and so are the ones I love. But reality tells me otherwise. And so do you.
With your powerful Spirit, connect me to all those who grieve, all who are facing death, and all who are willing to care and to heal.
Hold us close. Give us strength to keep following Jesus, even when that way is painful. Fill us with confidence that through Jesus’ gift of life, we will live again after death… with you and those who have gone before us.
In Jesus’ name we pray…
Peace to you in your struggles and in your joys. Please feel free to share them, on this blog or over a cup of coffee… anytime. Thank you for your prayers, your spirit given in love.
~ Kari Henkelmann Keyl
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Back to the Shore
There's something appealing about the fact that even Jesus had to get away from it all sometimes. I'm often drawn to the story from Matthew's gospel (chapter 14, starting at verse 13) where Jesus is told some terrible news, and he chooses to take off in a boat to be alone.
The story has a gruesome prologue, one I don't like to dwell on. A relative and colleague of Jesus has just been brutally murdered out of petty vengeance. Pretty awful. An incredible waste of human life and charismatic talent. The victim's name was John: teacher, baptizer, powerfully challenging speaker. And John's students come running to give Jesus the scoop on what's been happening.
We don't know exactly how Jesus is feeling when he hears about John's death. We know only that his response is immediate: I'm outta here. He glides his craft out onto the waves, ready for some alone time.
This is one of those Scripture scenes that can be a lifeline for me. I can climb into the boat with friend Jesus, feeling the anguish of losing a loved one, hearing the soothing sounds of lapping water, taking deep breaths of the calming sea air. I'm filled with the relief of being alone yet accompanied, peace and storm living inside of me at the same time.
But this moment will not last forever. It can't last. There's a fine line between healthy retreating and unhealthy escaping. At some point I need to be called back into life.
When Jesus brings his boat into harbor, he sees lots of people there to meet him. They also have heard about John's death, but their response is quite different. The last thing they want is to be alone. Jesus' insides are torn up when he sees them. They need him so much. He brings them healing. And they have called him back into life.
O Living One, I come to you in this moment, to be refreshed by your Spirit. I'm so grateful that whenever I need retreat, you take me there and you accompany me. Walk with me in every moment. Open my ears to hear you calling, calling me into life... a life where I receive your healing and then can be healing others.
~Kari Henkelmann Keyl
The story has a gruesome prologue, one I don't like to dwell on. A relative and colleague of Jesus has just been brutally murdered out of petty vengeance. Pretty awful. An incredible waste of human life and charismatic talent. The victim's name was John: teacher, baptizer, powerfully challenging speaker. And John's students come running to give Jesus the scoop on what's been happening.
We don't know exactly how Jesus is feeling when he hears about John's death. We know only that his response is immediate: I'm outta here. He glides his craft out onto the waves, ready for some alone time.
This is one of those Scripture scenes that can be a lifeline for me. I can climb into the boat with friend Jesus, feeling the anguish of losing a loved one, hearing the soothing sounds of lapping water, taking deep breaths of the calming sea air. I'm filled with the relief of being alone yet accompanied, peace and storm living inside of me at the same time.
But this moment will not last forever. It can't last. There's a fine line between healthy retreating and unhealthy escaping. At some point I need to be called back into life.
When Jesus brings his boat into harbor, he sees lots of people there to meet him. They also have heard about John's death, but their response is quite different. The last thing they want is to be alone. Jesus' insides are torn up when he sees them. They need him so much. He brings them healing. And they have called him back into life.
O Living One, I come to you in this moment, to be refreshed by your Spirit. I'm so grateful that whenever I need retreat, you take me there and you accompany me. Walk with me in every moment. Open my ears to hear you calling, calling me into life... a life where I receive your healing and then can be healing others.
~Kari Henkelmann Keyl
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