There is so much in this article by Michael Morgan that resonates with me about the grieving heart. Morgan is a man longing to help his wife as she grieves the sudden loss of her mother. She has questions and he wants to offer her answers, but he has the good sense not to.
While they masquerade as the desire to ease her pain, of course answers are more about easing mine. A means of pulling her out of the dark without getting my hands dirty. Being present is being vulnerable.
This man gets it.
He understands that, though grief is a solitary journey, it doesn’t have to be walked alone. He steps into the darkness with her, offering comfort by his willingness to be present.
Sometimes, the worst thing to offer a grieving heart is an answer. If someone has been sitting in the dark, the most painful thing to see is a blazing light. Our eyes need time to adjust (and in that way, what a mercy that God makes the sun rise slowly each dawn). The thought of joining someone in the dark—going without sight, without answers—can seem truly frightening. But, love demands courage. Even the sharpest mind cannot heal the heart. Neither can our presence, I suppose, because healing the heart is a thoroughly mysterious process in the hands of our invisible, inexorable God. But, our presence can make it less lonely as we wait together for the sun to come up. We may even find that God is present in ways we would never know about otherwise. Even in the dark. Michael Morgan, Michael Morgan, Waiting on the Sun, In Touch Magazine
The most healing moments on my grief journey are when someone allows me to share my sorrow without comment. Sitting next to me or over a phone line, they are there to listen. As uncomfortable as they may feel experiencing my sadness, they resist the urge to fix me — or themselves. And in their restraint, I find the strength to keep moving forward.
