Tag Archives: mourning

Trigger Warning: Contains Profanity…


I told myself I’d write a blog post today. And all I can think about is my dear friend’s father, who is dying. Less than a month and the stupid tumor has stupidly doubled and is stupidly squatting all over his pancreas squishing the life and all possibility of treatment out of him.

And I am remembering when my Dad died, suddenly, with a phone call and a word to finalize it. After eight years I can watch the actions of the day with something solid and apathy-like in front of me acting as a filter. And they are all there, this family. I remember them standing next to us in the room, exclaiming out loud when we told them, crying with us seamlessly as one family.

I remember this man’s daughter coming to me in my backyard and saying the only thing in the whole week that was any help at all. “What the fuck?” she said. Exactly. What the fuck.

And my siblings are driving up right now, managers notified, half days taken. Our only plan is to walk in and stand with them because we have been stood with.

I find myself wondering how different it is, watching it happen, not knowing exactly how many days you will have to live in this limbo. When my Dad died the world stopped. The suddenness of it was gratifying to my grief. And the whole church showed up at the memorial. How gratifying that was. It was as it should be. The world should mourn with me.

I know what they will go through. Yet, I wonder at what they are going through. I want to bear witness to the life. I want to bear witness to the grief. I want to bear witness to the voice of Mary in me that cries, “If you had been here, Lord!”

And I bear witness to Jesus’ own tears. Because that is how the goodness of God was proven to me in that week. He wept. When my Dad died Jesus wept. There was no trite pat on my head. There was no image of a “Footprints” meme impressed into my brain. Jesus wept. He was with me.

Even now, Jesus nods with my husband when he says, “This is fucked.” Yes, fucked up. This isn’t how it was supposed to be at all.

Even though Jesus knows better than anyone that the resurrection is coming, that Lazarus will be walking out of that tomb in two hot minutes, still he weeps.

What the fuck? This isn’t how it was supposed to be at all.

Damn Lies…


Two days ago I wrote about how big God was. I wrote a sentence about God being big enough to find joy in giving a tired mother her morning cup of coffee while waking up beside a beloved son dealing with the aftermath of addiction.

I wrote the coffee part thinking about a friend who sends out pictures of her frothy cups regularly. She’s far away now, but the pictures make me remember our mornings together. Yesterday this friend texted us, her coffee girls, that her brother did not wake up to deal with the aftermath of his addiction.

I don’t know what form his addiction took, but it doesn’t seem to me that there is a sin as old as this one, the belief that something good is being withheld from you, that those who love you most don’t understand. The belief that you will take, ingest, and be wise.

How bodily this form of lie, how physically it works. Its consequences are old and the same.

Consequences come last and so I think its easy to confuse that they are given us in response. It can make your loving Father seem judgmental or spiteful. But the consequences were always there first. The consequences are what necessitated the prohibition in the first place.

I’m so sorry, friend.

Holy Saturday…


Happy Holy Saturday to you all. I have a friend who takes down all the paintings in her front room on Good Friday. She removes all the beauty. On Easter morning they all get put back up. We did our Good Friday activity last night and laid a black cloth over our Lent box … until tomorrow.

Holy Saturday: Prayer in the Darkness

Where to find it:
A Child’s First Bible: p.226 (Peter’s Denial)
Jesus Storybook Bible: There is no story for this lesson. You can read just p.326, the first page of “God sends help” which is the intro to Pentecost.
Bible: Matthew 26:56, Mathew 26:69-75

Today is Holy Saturday. Jesus died and was buried in the tomb. His followers scattered. His apostles hid in a dark room and cried. They were terribly sad. Their friend Jesus had died. They didn’t understand. Where had God’s amazing rescue plan gone? They were supposed to be saved, weren’t they? And now what? They were too sad and too scared to eat or sleep. So, they waited in the darkness, praying.

Lent box activity:
Have a family member place the tea light or small candle in the sand. Have a parent light the candle before you pray.

Beginning question:
When have you felt sad or scared?

More questions:
Have you ever been too sad or scared to eat or sleep?
Is there any part of you that feels like it is hiding in darkness?

Family question:
What was the best part and hardest part of Lent this year?

Family Activity:
Take an extra special time to pray. Pray for each family member in their spots of darkness. Ask that Jesus would bring light into these dark places. If you like, you could go to bed in darkness to prepare yourselves for the light of Easter morning.

Pray as a family:
“Dear Heavenly Father we thank you that you will not leave us sad or scared forever. We thank you that you have come to make all the sad things come undone. We pray that your beauty and new life would come quickly to us. We ask that your kingdom would come to our hearts and make them new. We ask that your kingdom would come to the Earth and make all creation new again, like it was in the beginning. Thank you for this promise, Amen.”