Grief is of the moment, but grief is also a lifetime of negotiating an empty spot.
And grief looks like many things right now.
If you’re like me, you’re grieving the loss of some true and real things hard-earned: community, trust, understanding. Compassion. It’s not all gone, but there’s a dearth of it right now in some places—and then, by God’s grace, there’s an uprising of compassion, a calling of many to do the right thing that stems only from something planted deep within each of us. To rise up, truly love, be genuine in our faith. This alone gives me great hope in this time of toxicity.
I still desperately miss my spiritual director Fr. Tom, who would have had much to say, ways to guide, even just a word, sometimes—to heal, coax in the right direction, touch the soul. My soul at times feels too far away from the ways he was able to bring people together, but I know he planted in me the smallest of mustard seeds and that growth begins. If you’re like me, perhaps you were lucky enough to have such a reminder of God’s grace in your lives, and can draw from the deep pool they’ve left you.
Still, there are times, like tonight as I write this, when I despair. When I take my doubts and hold them in hand and turn them in the light to make sense of them. Much of what we’re turning in our collective hands before us has been around a long time, and some of it surfaces afresh—all of it calls for our attention: to do what is right in the sight of God. To lead each other toward light, a light filling our broken, cracked beings and rendering us not useless but free. Body and soul free.
My prayer for you tonight is that your reserve is deep, and that, should you need it, sharing is always a good thing. Peace and All Good to you.