“You can do this,” I wrote in a text to my friend, Carol, this morning.
“Just take the next step,” I encouraged her. She had heard a dismal report from her 90-year-old mother’s physician at the hospital. Who had the expertise to care her mother? Where would she be cared for after a fall and a brain bleed? If she didn’t get better, what eulogy would honor her mother
Carol shared, “I’m so tired…at this current stage I can’t think with clarity.”
Isn’t it just like Satan to blur our mind with weariness when we are most stressed?
Just last night, an email asked for prayer for another longtime friend. “Pam’s husband has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer; he has been given six months to one year, at best.” I want to write the same two messages to her.
Last month I attended the funeral of the husband of my dear friend, Debbie. He lost a bout with cancer. I couldn’t speak my thoughts to her after the service. I could only grip her hand and say, “I’m sorry.” That morning it was just too familiar to the same kind of day ten long, short, years ago when I was the widow at the funeral much too soon.
This week the fall semester of GriefShare starts at my church. Little did I know any sessions like this existed until last year. Through taking this class, one can realize why the grief experience is harder than ever imagined, why the intensity and duration of a person’s emotions are normal and appropriate and despite how the grieving one feels, there is reason for hope. Advertised as Your Journey from mourning to Joy, I’m sure when the class is finished–grief is not over–but one realizes he is not alone.
Interesting isn’t it that I’m still saying, as my friends Ron and Barb said to me in 2007, “You are strong; you can do this.” I’ve learned to not be overwhelmed, I can’t even think of what was, what might be; I must take just the next step. Where are you in all of this? Would GriefShare support group help you or someone you know?