In Times of Grief

Blessed are Those who mourn, for they will be comforted —Matthew 5:4

Some of the darkest days I’ve experienced occurred after I had to say goodbye to my mother due to her death when she was sixty-three years old. No one wants to lose a loved one at any age, but sixty-three seemed really young to me. I knew so many vibrant and seemingly healthy people who were well beyond that age.

Because my mother was a Christian—and because she was my first and best Christian role model—I didn’t expect her death to hit me nearly as hard as it did. After all, hadn’t she been living for this day? She had proclaimed her trust and belief in Jesus at a young age and had lived out her life accordingly. I was certain she had a future with an eternal life. So why was I so broken? Why did I find it difficult to do some of the simple things in life after her death? 

One of my breakthrough moments came when I was in a therapy session. (Thankfully, I had been seeing a therapist for a year or so before my mom’s death to deal with depression brought on by other life events.) As I spoke with my beloved therapist, I ran through several reasons why I hadn’t been able to have a good cry about my mom’s death. I’m normally not one to hold on to tears—I was known as a crybaby as a kid—but somehow I hadn’t shed many tears around Mom’s death. As we unpacked my why, I told my therapist I always got headaches after crying really hard, and I had too much to do to stop for a headache. I continued to list all of the “important” things I had to do. I can still see my therapist’s face, blankly staring at me, awaiting me to catch up and reflect on the words I had just said. I was too busy to cry. I was too busy to grieve my mother’s death, the death of the woman who first showed me unconditional love, the

woman I had known was right by my side for nearly thirty-five years, my biggest supporter and cheerleader, my guide, my prayer warrior, and teacher. I did not have the time to grieve a significant loss? Girl, please!

If I could go back and talk to that young woman in the midst of life-changing mourning, who’d just planned and participated in a beautiful celebration of the life of such a meaningful and pivotal relationship, I’d ask: Girl, what you got to do that’s so important? Apparently, I was consumed with my to-do list and I had lost sight of the reality that I was no good until I took care of my emotions. I could keep running and pretending like I had no time because of work, friends, community, and church work (yep, you know we can use even “good” things to mask what needs to be taken care of), but my grief would still be there, waiting for me to acknowledge it, waiting for me to cry so I could begin to heal, waiting for me to receive the comfort God offers to us. Dare I say, either you grieve now or later—but, sis, it will come out, one way or the other.

My Confession

I will take the time to mourn what I grieve.

Comfort awaits those who mourn.

Progress, Not Perfection

What have you not grieved? How can you release your emotions and receive comfort?

God of comfort: I know you’ve promised to comfort me when I mourn. Help me to release feelings of loss and allow you to provide what I need to heal. Thank you for being right by my side throughout my days of grief.

Taken from Navigating the Blues: Where to Turn When Worry, Anxiety, or Depression Steals Your Hope by Katara Washington Patton. Used by permission of Our Daily Bread Publishing®, Grand Rapids MI. All rights reserved. Further distribution is prohibited without written permission from Our Daily Bread Publishing® at permissionsdept@odb.org