Amazing Grace In the Midst of Grief

James L. Mayfield

• Publisher: Cascade Books
• Year: 2011
• Print ISBN:
  9781608999446
  9781498213264
• eBook ISBN:
  9781621899044
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Biblical Studies

Amazing Grace in the Midst of Grief describes the grief process as well as providing insights and stories about many of the ways God's grace is at work in the midst of our grieving. The closer one has been to the person who has died, the more intense and lengthy the journey through grief will be. This book describes ways God's grace accompanies and aids us as we move through the dark valley of grief. When we accept the gifts of grace, we are able to affirm life and our lives, even when life and our lives are not the way we want. God's grace is with us in our grief, pushing and pulling us through. Because of this grace, we have the strength to face life and the power to move on.

1

Entering Grief

“I Can’t Believe It”

When we experience significant loss suddenly and unexpectedly, we often have difficulty grasping the reality of what has happened. Our denial is not refusing to believe as much as it is an inability to believe.

“I was numb. I couldn’t believe it. I heard the doctor. My mind comprehended what he was telling me but I felt as if I were an outside observer. It seemed that all this was happening to someone else.

“I heard him ask me if I was all right and I heard myself say: ‘I’m okay; I’ll make it.’ I could see clearly. I could hear and yet I felt as if I were in some kind of a fog. Some of the neighbors were with me. Most of them were crying. I wondered what was wrong with me because I was not crying. After all, Nancy was my wife.

“It seemed an eternity ago that the phone call brought me to the hospital. I looked at my watch; it had only been a couple of hours. ‘Nothing we can do,’ the doctor had said. ‘Massive head injuries.’

“All this cannot be happening, but it is. I must make myself think. What do I need to do? Nancy wanted to go out Friday. We won’t be doing that. I’ve got to think of other things. What shall I tell the kids? What am I going to do with the children while I am at work? I wonder if we have enough milk at home for their breakfast tomorrow. Nancy took care of things like that.

“I hear myself responding to some friends: ‘I just can’t realize it. I know it has happened. It just does not seem real.’”

Our initial reaction to an unexpected death is usually one of shock and numbness. We hear ourselves saying: “I just can’t believe it happened.”

Denial beyond the Initial Phase of Grief

Our experience of denial is not limited to our initial response to the death of someone we love. It can also be experienced much later in the grief process. For example, my mother died in January, but nine months later I experienced denial. It was a Saturday afternoon; I was taking a shower after having spent much of the day working in the yard; the thought came in my mind: “When I get dressed, I ought to call Mother.” Often on Saturday afternoons Rita and I had talked with her on the phone. Of course, almost as soon as I had the idea of calling her, I remembered she had died nine months earlier. There was still a part of me that was resisting the reality of her having died. We want to hang on to what we love. Even today, many years later there are moments when I find it hard to believe she is dead.

“I Am So Relieved”

Another initial response to the death of someone we love can be relief, especially if the process of dying was prolonged and involved suffering.

“Thank God it’s over.” The thought played in her mind like a stuck record. How long had it been? Mrs. Wallace had lost track of the days, the weeks, the months. For a while her father would be in a nursing home, and then he would be back in the hospital. The cycle was repeated again and again. It seemed like a long, slow, endless treadmill between the hospital and the nursing home.

Mrs. Wallace had watched her father change from a strong, independent person into a weak and helpless infant. She saw him change from a person who enjoyed life and people into a person who was suspicious and afraid. Although she had responsibilities for her children and a part-time job, Mrs. Wallace visited him at least once a day, usually twice. But he became forgetful, and he would forget her having been to see him. Several times he was angry with her and accused her of not caring. He even believed she did not care. In tears he told her that he wished he could die and not be a bother to her any more.

Little by little, he lost touch with reality. At first it was present reality that he lost. His mind returned to his past. He relived events and conversations that had taken place many years ago. Toward the end, he even lost touch with the past. He lay in bed and stared blankly into space. It was painful to Mrs. Wallace to watch her father’s mind and body deteriorate. The process of his dying was so slow. Finally death came.

Exhausted physically and emotionally, Mrs. Wallace felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She felt so relieved that she worried about herself: “What is wrong with me? I loved Dad. Shouldn’t I feel more sadness? All I feel is relief. If I feel anything it is more of a feeling of gladness. I’m glad my ordeal is over. I’m glad his ordeal has come to an end. Is that wrong?”

Gifts and Problems

Our initial responses to a significant loss can be viewed as gifts. When death is a sudden, unexpected event, our numbness can be seen as a gift of calmness that will allow us to absorb what has happened; it even allows us to take care of some practical questions before we are hit by the emotional storms. When the death has been anticipated for some time, the relief we may experience can be understood as the gift of a brief rest between the ordeal of anticipating a significant loss and the ordeal of adjusting to the implications that loss has for our living. Thus, our initial experience of grief can be seen as a gift of God’s grace.

However, we sometimes have problems in this first part of our grief experience. Sometimes the problems stem from misunderstanding our feelings and our reactions to what people around us say and do.

If we view our initial reaction to death and loss as our primary and fundamental response, we may be in for some problems. Taken out of the context of the total grief experience, our initial reactions may cause us to enter grief with a low opinion of ourselves.

For example, if we think our initial numbness is our primary response to the loss rather than merely the way this experience of grief is beginning, we may view ourselves as being insensitive and begin to wonder if we are selfish, unloving persons. When we confuse the way our grief begins for the total grief experience, we are likely to add the burden of low self-esteem to the burden of our grief.

Our initial reaction to death is precisely that—our initial reaction. To view it as the primary or fundamental expression of our deepest self is to misunderstand what is happening, and it is to be vulnerable to additional problems.

In this situation we may also misunderstand other people’s attempts to help us. In their desire to be helpful and supportive they will sometimes view the exterior behavior of our initial response and make comments such as: “You are so strong!” or “I certainly admire the way you are taking this.” or “For you to be so calm, your faith must be very deep.”

If we are already feeling some form of mild guilt because we misunderstand our numbness or relief, these well-intentioned compliments may pour more fuel on the fire of our feelings of guilt. They tell us we are strong and that we have faith, but we see ourselves as being insensitive and selfish. In this situation the compliments make us feel guilty because of the gap between their description of us and our image of ourselves. If we listen only to the words our friends say, their comments are likely to be misunderstood. If that happens, their gestures of friendship will be significantly less helpful than they were intended to be.

“You are so strong!” may say to us, “Hold all your emotion in; do not let it splash on other people.”

“I certainly admire the way you are taking this,” may say to us: “I accept your grief so long as it does not bother me. Keep it to yourself.”

“Your faith is so strong!” may say to us: “It is your Christian duty to be a silent, smiling rock. Faith does not know sorrow.”

When we listen only to the words of our friends, we are setting ourselves up for misunderstanding because in our focusing only on their words, we tend to be insensitive to the concern and love behind their words. When this happens, we are likely to miss the most important message our friends are attempting to share.

When we misunderstand the comments (as illustrated above), we are likely to be caught somewhere between not liking ourselves because we are not living up to what we think is their image of us, and trying to pretend to be the person we think they want us to be. The result of these misunderstandings is a loss of intimacy that tends to make us feel isolated rather than comforted. Later, during the emotional storms of sorrow and anguish when we need to reach out to others, we may feel cut off.

To prevent this from happening, we need to see our initial reaction to loss as only the first phase of grief, and when others say whatever they say, it is most helpful for us to focus primarily on their intention to express friendship and love. Our friends who love us are not trying to set us up as ideal super-humans. They are not trying to cut us off. They are reaching out in compassion to give us support. We need to be sensitive to their intentions. It is the reality of their love—more than their particular words or deeds—that gives us what we need in our grief.

Grace and Faith

When we are touched by the love of our friends, we are also touched by the grace of God. All this love we receive by faith. We trust we are loved; it is a leap of faith. We trust that somewhere within the poorly chosen words and awkward acts there is the gift of love our friends are offering to us. We have no illusions that the love we receive from our friends is totally free from their self-interest, but (hopefully) we are also free from the cynicism that focuses only on the imperfection and self-interest that may be there. Human love is seldom perfect, but that does not negate the love that is there. Within the faults, failures, and sins of our imperfect friends and family members are also their genuine expressions of compassion and love. By faith we receive the love reflected in their words and deeds.

When we are touched by the love of our friends, we are also touched by the grace of God and through that love we are empowered us to face what has to be faced, and move on. How the grace of God is at work through family and friends is a primary and even primal mystery. It cannot be proven to the skeptic (a fact that is frustrating to both the skeptic and the faithful). Just as a mother’s love cannot be finally proven and just as the love of a friend can be perceived only through faith, so also the grace of God cannot be proven to someone who is committed to the belief that God’s love is only a sentimental illusion. Yet God’s grace is as real as the love within a healthy family and among true friends, providing what we need in the midst of our grief. It takes only the eyes of faith to recognize the deeper dynamic that is happening.

Summary

Through the initial experiences of grief God’s grace is at work among us. God’s grace is in the gift of numbness or relief. God’s grace is in our friends’ responses. Even when their love is inadequately expressed, God can use it to give us the grace we need. All this grace we receive by faith. We trust we are loved; we trust we can love, and through this faith, we move on.

2

Dealing with Memories

A Lot of Remembering

When Dad died, our family gathered, and friends came by. We were drawn together by the power love has when it becomes grief. Each of us had been touched by Dad’s living. Now he was dead, and we would miss him. The closer we were to him, the greater our pain.

United in our grief, we felt close to one another. The distinction between friends and family seemed to melt. Affection and sympathy urged us to touch each other. When we shook hands there was an added touch. More often than usual we would embrace and kiss. Sometimes this was done in silence, our tears speaking for us. Sometimes someone said: “I’m sorry.” or “Is there anything we can do?” or simply “Oh, Jim.”

Once we passed the initial greeting, we expressed the love that brought us together by talking about Dad. It was not a planned or calculated ritual. It was the natural thing to do. Without realizing how we started, my mother or one of my sisters or I would discover ourselves retelling the story of Dad’s dying. We seemed compelled to tell it, and those who had come seemed eager—not just eager, needing—to hear it.

Over and over we told the story of the medical examination, the grim report, our difficulty believing the bad news, the efforts to find a cure, the bravery of Dad, the ordeals in the hospital, and finally the story about the night he died.

After some comments or questions, the conversation usually drifted toward some pleasant memories: “Remember the time he took us fishing?” Or, “Remember how he loved...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• About This Book
• Introducing Grief and Grace
• Chapter 1: Entering Grief
• Chapter 2: Dealing with Memories
• Chapter 3: Weathering the Emotional Storm
• Chapter 4: Feeling So Alone
• Chapter 5: Handling Grief’s Physical Impact
• Chapter 6: Dealing with Anger
• Chapter 7: Dealing with Regret and Guilt
• Chapter 8: Dealing with Fears and Doubts
• Chapter 9: Hiding Our Grief
• Chapter 10: Moving beyond Grief to New Life
• For Further Reading