JANUARY 30 Healing is impossible in loneliness; it is the opposite of loneliness Conviviality is healing To be healed we must come with all the other creatures to the feast of Creation —WENDELL BERRY These are hard words to hear, because often when we are grieving, our impulse is to withdraw from other people There they are, carrying on their ordinary lives when my world has fallen apart How can they understand? Besides, my sadness will make them uncomfortable, won’t it? We will need times of solitude, of course, to be with our thoughts, to take the measure of our grief, to rest But there is little comfort in being alone, and we need to resume our place in the human family, to realize we are not the center of the world, to let ourselves be enfolded in the loving care of friends If there are people who are uncomfortable with our sadness, we can move on Or if we are brave, we can acknowledge the situation: “I realize I’m not a bundle of cheer right now But I needed to get out and be with people.” Often this will put other people at ease The situation was awkward mostly because the unspoken thought in the air but was not mentioned—like a stranger who comes to a party and is never introduced Sometimes it is hard for me to go into groups But my connections to other people are the flow of life to me JANUARY 31 God is serious about knowing how it is with us —WILLIE S TEAGUE In his best-selling book When Bad Things Happen to Good People, Rabbi Harold Kushner writes of his sense of God being present to his suffering and that of his family as his young son grew desperately ill and died That God did not cause that suffering, but in some way shared it, and was present to comfort and sustain A friend tells of driving along one day and having a sudden flash of conviction that God cared for him—“that God really loved me, David I rolled down the car window and sang,” he says, and smiles, bemused and grateful Listening, I am grateful, too Yes, I think I have felt that way sometimes To whatever extent we feel creation is more than a random happenstance, surely it must be safe to say that God cares for us If I had created anything of such magnitude, I would pay close attention I would want to know how it was doing Sometimes in my darkness I can believe I am held in a love which supports all creation Not always, but sometimes FEBRUARY The man who removed mountains began by carrying away small stones —CHINESE PROVERB How we start picking up the pieces, rebuilding our lives, after we have sustained a grievous loss? We won’t be able, probably, to undertake major new ventures for a while But a single step will help, will signify to our inner self that our investment is in life, not in endless grief A friend tells me that after she began sewing some new clothes for herself, she began to feel better It was an investment in living It was only a beginning, but I remember the moment in the grocery store when I decided to “look cheerful” instead of carrying around the glum face I had worn for weeks It was a very small thing, but evidently important Otherwise I wouldn’t remember it after almost twenty years I will take a small step—just one In my mind’s eye, perhaps I can see my loved one nodding in encouragement—“Yes Go on You can I am with you.” FEBRUARY She thought that she had never before had a chance to realize the strength that human beings have, to endure; she loved and revered all those who had ever suffered, even those who had failed to endure —JAMES AGEE It is true that grief extends our sensibilities We find we have a sudden kinship with those who have suffered losses similar to ours We may, like the woman in Agee’s story who had been recently widowed, find ourselves in awe of the strength in ourselves to simply go on living in the face of such suffering We realize how much we have been spared, not to have encountered this kind of grief before, and our hearts go out to those who are young and sustain a major grief too soon, before they have had carefree years to treasure All of this comes as a kind of astonishment in the first period of grief Like our plunging into cold water, it takes our breath away The shock alters all our perceptions Then we get used to it Our bodies warm to it and we begin to swim In my ability to endure I see a strength I didn’t know I had FEBRUARY Silence is the strength of our interior life…If we fill our lives with silence, then we will live in hope —THOMAS MERTON There is a delicate balance between socializing and being quietly alone Too much socializing can be an attempt to run away from our difficult truth Too much solitude can leave us brooding and withdrawn But wait Not all silence is in solitude Quaker meetings for worship are largely experiences of collective silence Sometimes we feel closest to others when we are silent together Still, most silence takes place when we are alone, and we would well to recognize its value Over the past years we have heard of the physical value of meditative silence—in lowering blood pressure, slowing the heart, even facilitating some kinds of healing We know that under many circumstances a few moments of silence can feed our spirits So in our healing from the wounds of grief, a generous amount of silence will help us rest into the depths of our own souls, and find peace I will not be afraid to be still I will savor the refreshments of silence Perhaps the spirit of my loved one will join me there ... stones —CHINESE PROVERB How we start picking up the pieces, rebuilding our lives, after we have sustained a grievous loss? We won’t be able, probably, to undertake major new ventures for a while... slowing the heart, even facilitating some kinds of healing We know that under many circumstances a few moments of silence can feed our spirits So in our healing from the wounds of grief, a generous... worn for weeks It was a very small thing, but evidently important Otherwise I wouldn’t remember it after almost twenty years I will take a small step—just one In my mind’s eye, perhaps I can see