It’s not until you buy a green suburban that you realize they’re all over the road, or a white F250, or a maroon mini-van or... Start golfing and you meet golfers hooking and slicing all over the place. Start fishing and folks who fish will be jigging all around you.
And go through a painful event that causes grief and your eyes will be opened to just how many people are grieving.
Recently our family marched through the dark days of grief. Maybe marched, is the wrong word—a bit too strong. Perhaps I should say we crawled, trudged, waded traveled through the dark tunnel of grief. And we still are in some ways. It’s like a gnawing hunger, a longing to be filled with what used to be.
As we marched, (crawled, trudged, waded, traveled) through the tunnel, I processed my bleeding heart through fingers to page. Ten tear streaked stories appeared and were eventually transformed into Grieving Grace the book.
A short book mind you, one that can be read in one sitting; easy to handle for someone already handling more than they can bear. Every word counts, every story penned with prayer and printed in love.
Editors, publishers and marketing experts tell me length matters. Your book must have this many words or it won’t be accepted. I’m no expert, and I’m sure they have their reasons for saying such things, but I’ve always been a bit unconventional and paid them no mind. If one word will do why use two? Stuff empty pages with fluff and filler just to meet a quota? Nonsense.
My favorite books in the world are Proverbs, Mark and James and none of them are long enough to meet today’s criteria for making it to the best sellers list, but they do. They’re read by millions every year—have been for around two thousand years.
When grieving, one doesn’t waste words. Idle chatter is replaced with words that matter. I love you. I’m sorry. You’re forgiven. During grief a human-being is more important than a human-doing. Holding a hand or giving a hug without saying a word can speak volumes. Grieving Grace does the same.
My eyes have been opened—grief is all around us.
The other day I wrote a short blog about a one word prayer. That day I’d been encircled by friends and family grieving over loved ones breathing their last. I felt the weight of their grief and soaked up their sorrow. It weighed me down to the point that my prayer was a simple one word cry:
And that was enough.
Relief was found.
And I realized the error of my ways. I shouldn’t carry another’s grief as if it’s mine alone to bear. Jesus is the one who is our burden bearer. He is the one to whom we cast our care. Jesus is the one who shares our sorrows. We need to lean on each other and limp our way to Him, the Mender of wounds; The Healer of broken hearts. He is the One who soaks up our sorrows, dries our tears and gives us hope for tomorrow.
And I realized something else.
I’m not so good at leaning. As an unconventional loner type I’d just-as-soon do it myself. But that’s not right and I know it. So, as hard as it is for me—I’m leaning.
The original intent of Grieving Grace was to comfort our immediate hurting family. But we’ve realized it’s bigger than that—it’s not just for us—it’s for everyone. It’s to comfort those hovering near death’s door and their loved ones, too. And these folks are staggering all around us.
To reach them, Grieving Grace is leaning on you.
• Please pray
• If you know someone this big little book can help, will you kindly give them a copy?
• Perhaps, write a note or prayer inside and set it next to the water glass by their bed.
• Maybe you’ll want to leave some in the waiting area of the nursing home, hospital or hospice center.
• Do you have a desire to bring God’s grace to the hurting? Consider becoming a Grieving Grace distributor.
It’s unconventional marketing, but marketing isn’t the goal. Bringing comfort to the hurting and pointing them to Jesus—that is the goal. And I believe God will help us get it done, one by one, leaning on each other, planting one seed at a time
Thanks for your prayers and kind words. They’re felt all the way from where you are to here. Remember, you are loved and please let me know if you need prayer—it’s what I do.