Something to add to the above post … I know, I know, two posts in one day is a bit much, but I couldn’t resist in light of choosing to love someone in spite of the risk of losing them…
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” — C.S. Lewis.
More to think about…
Blessings,
Ray
Posted by doc on Oct 25, 2009 in
Grief/Grieving,
Redemptive Community I have been reminded of late of some truths that I have been neglecting and avoiding, but it has come to me by even more force as I have been talking to my students around an event that has shaken many of them — the death of another student who succumbed to the ravages of leukemia. There is so much about this that seems so meaningless and futile — the youth who has so much of life ahead of her “snatched” away by the ravages of disease. Yet, there is something by which I was “seized” as I was reading a book by Henri Nouwen entitled “Life of the Beloved.” While I don’t have a lot of time to talk much about it, it pressed in not only on my own heart, but for those of my students who are grieving. It’s a reminder of the truth that lies “behind’ the small “t” truths of our lives that are most painfully jarred by another’s death. It goes this way…
“Aren’t you like me, hoping that some person, thing, or event will come along to give you that final feeling of inner well-being you desire?…But as long as you are waiting for that mysterious moment you will go on running helter-skelter, always anxious and restless, always lustful (not necessarily in the sexual sense — my editorial comment) and angry, never fully satisfied….
Listening to that voice with great inner attentiveness, I hear at my center words that say: ”I have calle dyou by name, from the very beginning. You are mine and I am yours. You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests. I have molded you in the depths of the earth and knitted you together in your mother’s womb. I have carved you in the palms of my hands and hidden you in the shadow of my embrace. I look at you with infinite tenderness and care for you with a care more intimate than that of a mother for her child. I have counted every hair on your head and guided you at every step. Wherever you go, I go with you, and wherever you rest, I keep watch. I will give you food that will satisfy all your hunger and drink that will quench all your thirst. I will not hide my face from you. You know me as your own and I known as my own. You belong to me. I am your father, your mother, your brother, your sister, you lover, and your spouse … yes, even your child … wherever you are I will be. Nothing will ever separate us. We are one.”
Some words of big “T” truth that stands apart from the bloody realities of our small “t” truths that so often obscure the rock-solid realities of these affirmation of God’s love for us. This is true even in the face of the confusing, jarring, and maddening realities of our existence here.
Blessings!
Ray (aka Dr. Mitsch)
Posted by doc on Jun 14, 2009 in
Grief/Grieving This entry is not written by me, but by a dear friend of mine who lost a friend to suicide. I asked this person if I could publish the thoughts expressed on my blog because it is such a genuine expression of his feelings and thoughts about his friend’s choice. Read and be blessed!
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Please pray for me I’m grieving the loss of a friend this morning. He was a childhood friend that I grew-up with and lost touch with about 7 years ago. I kept up with him through family and friends and I’m sure he did the same. We shared some similar circumstances but our endings were different and I have questions that in all likelihood will never be answered in this life but I try to find my way through the words and the wisdom of brothers and sisters that have walked and journeyed through far greater paths than I in hopes of finding meaning to our struggle for love and life. Life is so precious and so are the friends and the people that Abba directs into our
lives to show us His love. How much is too much and when is it not enough?
My friend took his life 2 days ago…..I wish he had known how precious he was and the unique and wonderful creation he was and will always be in my heart. I wish I knew the depth of pain and loneliness that he felt. I wish he was still alive so we could walk along the banks of the James [River] and talk about old times and maybe start to share our hearts with one another and experience the gift of a mutual vulnerability. I wish I could have told him he wasn’t alone and that I had shared the same shame and guilt that drove me to wanting to take my own life as well, but I can’t, he’s gone and I’m still here? I don’t understand? All I’m left with is our memories…… Death and life come and go from this world every day whether we know it or not just as the sun and the moon rise and fall. Even though we can’t have one without the other the emotions wander through a stalemate between joy and grief as we continue to try to understand the word that wanders throughout time….LOVE.
The same day that my friend took his life I was at the front door of my little sisters birthing room and at 4:07 am and heard and felt the sounds of her baby girl’s first cries of life creeping underneath the door as she entered into this world. The depth of joy that I experienced that morning brought tears to my eyes and the same tears that fell to the floor that
morning fall this morning into my shaking hands for the grief and the loss of a precious soul that lost his way. He was not only my brother he was my friend and even though we didn’t always see eye-to-eye we shared many adventures together and tried our best to open our hearts to our truest self. We were too young to know what that meant or looked like. I tried to love him the best way I knew and my love fell short or so it seems….I grieve your loss it’s hard to say good-bye my friend.
I look forward to the day when I will get to embrace him in eternity and anyone who thinks otherwise is sadly mistaken. Rob loved Christ and the only mistake he made is that he thought that he could bear a burden that only Christ could carry and it wore him down. Maybe in his weariness he was just unable to see the love of the crucified, risen Jesus; and the shadows of shame, guilt and fear that darkened the doorstep of his heart blinded until he could bear it no more. The reason I think that I can understand or at least empathize is because I stood at that same door and it’s only by grace that I continue to breath life. I can’t put words to why I chose not to kill myself because I should have in that stone cold and empty moment of my life. I should have never saw the sunrise on October 20th, 1991…the night before I wrote out my suicide letter in little under 15 minuets they were the words I was left with and maybe the words that saved me?
There once was a freckled face boy
Who loved to hear fairy tale stories
This boy lived life so courageous
And thought that his dad was outrageous
He grew-up in this frame of mind
His perfection made him unkind
Although this young boy loved life
The fate of old age brought a knife
This knife had a name; and so it proclaimed
A silence as deep as the night
This boy cried out to his Savior
Only silence, no answers, no favors
His tears never quivered; His insides would shiver
This boy was wasting away
What happened to frolic and frounce?
They were words he no longer pronounced
His friend was despair and so he prepared
Designs to escape from the plight
This freckled face boy had no chance
His life flashed and was gone in a glance
Fate was unkind, and so it did blind
His FAIRY TALE story of life.
These were my last thoughts to my family and friends as I had planned to leave a world that I simply could not fit into. Life can be so messy! I have no doubts of where my friend is right now and the only way that I know to describe it is in the words of one of the oldest and wisest spiritual directors that I know of and a passage that will always remain close to my heart. Brennan Manning is a broken man who helped me to see the burden that I carried and the grace that was available to me and proceeded to relieve the load by telling his story and giving me hope for a new day. His favorite passage in scripture is Luke 15:20 the story of the prodigal son. Brennan shares about a 3 day preach retreat that he attended years ago because he was so eager to hear the speaker Frank Montalbano, an 80 year old biblical scholar who had been teaching new testament studies since 1954. All Brennan remembered from the three days with him was when he said that his favorite passage from all of scripture was Luke 15:20. Here is how Brennan said he translated the passage. “While he was still a long way off his Father saw him and was moved with compassion. He ran to him.” It’s the only time in the Bible where it says that God ran. “He ran to him clasped him in his arms and couldn’t stop kissing him he simply could not stop kissing him.” I know that Rob Brame is wrapped up in the arms of Abba right now and he can’t stop kissing him … he simply cannot stop kissing him.
I’m glad that you are home my friend and know that you will be missed here by all your family and friends. I will promise to always carry you in my heart and never forget you…. God give me and all my brothers and sisters the eyes to see and the ears to hear the ones that are crying out to you and please don’t let us pass them by; don’t let us miss the gift of the brokenhearted and the face of Christ that calls out to us with hope……
In loving memory of my dear friend who left too soon….
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Shakespeare once said in Macbeth,
Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o’er fraught heart, and bids it break
Thank you my friend for sharing your heart with us… Give your sorrow words…
For those who might be interested, check out the From Mourning to Morning Podcast on iTunes, Episode 10 or follow this link.
Posted by doc on Feb 27, 2009 in
Grief/Grieving,
Redemptive Community 
This is a familiar feeling. A friend who had attended my mom’s memorial service yesterday reminded me that he would praying for this re-entry into life. As welcome as it is to be home amongst family and friends, there is a certain unreality about the return to “life.” Demands don’t change, expectations really don’t change (of myself and from other quarters), and time grinds on. Only a week ago, I was sitting by my mom’s bedside wondering if she would awake even for a moment. Now, here I sit in front of my computer assessing the things I have to get done before the “life train” leaves the station (I know, it’s already left…) once again next Monday. As cruel as it seems, it is a reality that either embitters us(me), or challenges me to do something the writer of Ecclesiastes says, “thus I considered all my activities…”
To be sure, there is the temptation to conclude that the people around us simply don’t care, but that would be unfair. But, “unfair” isn’t all that relevant, at least in terms of how we define it today. Today, it suggests the idea that things should be equal for all, and clearly from even a cursory review of the events of a person’s life equality amongst people in terms of what they experience (tragedies, crises, benevolence, joys, happiness, contentedness, etc) is only a well-nourished delusion (or illusion). The reality is that each person has responsibility for his/her own life and heart. And, because of that fact, they have responsibilities to attend to as well. This is at the heart of what could embitter one. Yet, that bitterness has its roots in the demand that others experience life as we do. Having said that, it doesn’t remove the pain of feeling so alone and unique in our grief. As a matter of fact, no one can actually enter into this place — except One.
Considering the fact that Jesus entered into this place of human grief and loss not only personally for our redemption, but also interpersonally through His ministry-wide interaction with broken people allows me to hang on to big “T” truth (Him, and propositional truth). There wasn’t a single person with whom He interacted that hadn’t experienced loss — whether that was a loss of status, or a loss of health, or a loss of life, or even a loss of one’s spiritual bearings. We’re told time and again that He “felt compassion” for them. He entered into a world of grief. That’s not to paint a dark, morose, or morbid picture. On balance, we have plenty of images of Jesus spending time with those following Him filled with the typical joys, fulfillment, confusion, and questions that marked His relatively brief sojourn here on earth.
So, where do I go from here? Good question. In some respects, I simply keep plodding along experiencing life in brief moments with loved ones and friends allowing those connections to nourish my heart to the degree that they can, and re-enter life as best I can. That, I suppose, is realistic. Never perfect, always messy, but life lived at the speed of life. It is living with the jarring juxtaposition of life continuing, and life ending.
Posted by doc on Feb 25, 2009 in
Grief/Grieving,
Redemptive Community In the aftermath of a person’s homegoing, the ones who are left behind are flooded with memories, emotions, and often questions. In considering a life that extends over 8 decades, what memories reach out and grab my attention? There are many, too many it seems. Yet, for many of these memories that seemed to fill “my rangefinder” and were so seemingly important in terms of defining my relationship with my mom, they all pale in signficance in the face of the moment. Of course, that doesn’t mean that those events themselves were insignificant or inconsequential because they weren’t. Instead, there is a time for everything as Ecclesiastes reminds me, and there is a time to process those things that, at times, so clouded our relationship.
There is something important and deeply healing in going through and participating in the grieving process. There is a sense of reality here that I don’t often feel. I’m also aware that there is a window in my incredibly busy life to take some time to look back, not to ruminate on all that was wrong, but to revisit the things that are fun to remember and re-establish a forgiving spirit for all the events, actions, and words that were so harmful and hurtful. Easy? Far from it. As a matter of fact, it feels, at times, like I’m wading through wet, emotional concrete that stiffens with each move I make.
