SHEEP WHISPERERS

I thought I had an original thought. But then I asked Siri about it. Yeah… wrong again.  Disappointing? Only briefly. It’s encouraging to know others want to be better at encouraging the sheep of their fold.

We, of all people, have a head start, no? We are already well-positioned to finesse our connecting abilities more profoundly than before. A pastoral heart and an empathic ear are not innate qualities. They are received from the Holy Spirit. These giftings are desperately needed today.

Endemic loneliness …

Have you ever been lonely? Loneliness is worse than a high-strung dog … always following me around … always needing to be in the same room with me … always whining in my face. The health articles we read repeatedly tell us loneliness is the #1 killer of people our age. There is no vaccine or pill for it.

Have you ever been with the lonely? One observation from the walk with Carol through her post-stroke journey is that the elderly are often undervalued, under-visited, under-included…, and neglected.

As debilitating infirmities overtake us, at what point does God become less caring? When do we become less valuable to him? I hope someone will care for me, even when I don’t remember who “me” is. God will remember who I am even if I won’t. He remembers who my afflicted loved one is, too…

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!
Who Am I?
Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Poetic Insights on Personal Identity (Minneapolis: Augsburg Books, 2005, pp.8-9)

When immersed in our grief, it’s easy to feel useless. We don’t know what we could offer to others. The saying “misery loves company” is used to warn about people who would drag us down. I want to turn that phrase on its head: There are at least two things always at our disposal to come alongside others in their misery: We can spend time with them … we can commiserate with them. Commiserate means to express mutual sympathy with someone about a shared negative experience. Spending time means being in the same space with them… and not in a hurry.

John Prine sang his songwriting as no one else could…

You know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder everyday
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say
Hello in there, hello
HELLO IN THERE, Album: John Prine, 1971.

Imagine a grieving shepherd reaching in with a hug and an offer of time together. Where could our grief journey be better put to use than in the deepest recesses of the valley of loss we’re already acquainted with? We love our flock enough even to revisit our own grief. We will purposely climb down into that valley again to come alongside another grieving sheep.

When is time spent with the lonely, the stricken, or the miserable NOT time well spent?

The art of spiritual conversation…

The subtleties of deep connection keep us on our toes, and our desire to be better at it grows. We stay willing to learn more on the subject. A book in my recommended reading list (see below) is titled “The Lost Discipline of Conversation.”

Beneath it all is constant watchfulness, almost intuiting the next question, recognizing when and how we’ve been granted permission to weave our way through the layers. To discover the realities behind the facade, lots of time and listening are required. Being quiet and patient is the default setting. It takes everything I've got, but it’s more exciting than exhausting.

While I’m intently listening… while someone is baring their soul, pouring out their misery, I experience a feeling of joy. It’s some combination of humbled, honored, and joyful… because someone I love trusts me to listen and to hear their story. They don’t need to hear my story as much as they need me to listen to theirs. It’s lightness and freedom because… I find joy in being trusted.

Celebrating deep companionship—The fruit of good sheep-whispering skills.

Just remember when,
Before we were lovers,
I swear we were friends.
LOST IN THE LIGHT

Yes, Carol, “before we were lovers, I swear we were friends.” Your companionship and deep conversation made me a better sheep whisperer. Your acceptance of what was to come next in your life came packaged in a beaming smile that was yours almost to the end.

Acceptance
nature points the way—
leaves float down quietly
why, oh why, can’t I?

-Carol's haiku

Reads to help reflect and refresh…

• Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ, John Bunyan, 1681.

• Gentle and Lowly: The Heart of Christ for Sinners and Sufferers, Dane Ortlund, Crossway, 2020.

• The Contemplative Pastor. Eugene H. Petersen. William B. Eerdmans, 1989.

• How to Inhabit Time. James K. A. Smith, Baker Publishing Group, 2022.

• The Lost Discipline of Conversation, Joanne J. Jung, Zondervan, 2018.

WRESTLING WITH EXPECTATIONS

Introspection…

How detrimental are the expectations we burden ourselves with? This gets complicated for me. Sometimes, I’m afraid my expectations are self-imposed. I’m weak and slow and stupid on a good day… now add grief to the mix! It’s hard sometimes to be sure I’m not acting on something I’ve created in my head. Am I truly in sync with reality… and especially with God’s expectations?

How do we define ourselves? Can we sort out when tradition or peer pressure has hindered a clear-headed approach to where we ought to be? Are we on course to be who God wants us to be for the remainder of our earthly journey?

Are our people being biblically realistic about what a shepherd is and does? Are any of their expectations hindering our healing and spiritual growth?

Anticipation…

We know what proactive looks like. Anyone who has come to Christ because they saw the future and chose to prepare for it demonstrates Spirit-fed wisdom. Yet, there appears to be a short circuit in our proactive-ness when it comes to other very legitimate, God-ordained expectations:

• What if we are suddenly left alone?

• What if we are suddenly incapacitated?

• If we are aging out like Moses, where is our Joshua?

• Do we have an inner circle of support in place today?

Just because we happen to be in ministry doesn’t make us strong enough to suck it up and move forward on our own. We’ve seen enough of the dark underbelly of leadership structures where authority becomes the impenetrable armor—the false front—of the guy at the top. How often has that sanctified machismo turned out to be a brittle facade over an empty shell? We need a network of intimate relationships we can default to in the midst of our own personal tragedies.

It will go better for everyone if we let ourselves be included in the flock as just one more hurting sheep among many.

Two Warnings…

Pulpiteer or Shepherd?

There’s that unspoken thing I dare not whisper, much less put in writing: Doubling down on our pulpit ministry will not prepare us for any of the above. Though not necessarily about choosing one over the other, we ought to judiciously consider both facets of our ministry.

The dilemma… We can be good in the pulpit without being good shepherds. We can be good shepherds without a pulpit, but being good shepherds might make us better in the pulpit. So, if I had to pick one, I’d shoot for being a good shepherd. Yes, it’s the harder choice. It requires more than a degree in pastoral theology. We don’t get this in school; a shepherd’s heart comes from the Good Shepherd, worked into our souls by the Holy Spirit. It’s not a vocation. It’s a gifting… a calling. Without it, we will hurt people more than we will help them.

If we’re given to hiding behind a pulpit ministry, we might be shortchanging everyone, including ourselves. The key ingredients for healing, regaining strength, and genuine shepherding are not found there.

The opposite of busy?

I was buying a few things at the corner store one morning. As I checked out, the owner asked what I was doing in Cancun. Without thinking, I replied, “I’m a pastor.” She sighed and said, “Ai, ¡qué tranquilidad!” (Oh, how peaceful!). My first thought was to inform her about what my life was really like. I laughed, but then I wept inside. She was wrong, but she should have been right. She was wrong about my life being tranquil; She was right about what it should have been.

Our Americanness tells us we’re lazy if we’re not staying busy. For biblical shepherding, the opposite of busyness is not laziness… it’s quietness—quietness of soul… of the sort that is restorative for the shepherd and foundational for the nurture of the flock. One author puts it this way: “Leisure is a quality of spirit, not a quantity of time.”

Transition: Hurting sheep need more than a pulpiteer. Tending sheep requires maturing in the art of spiritual conversation.

THE GOOD SHEPHERD AND GOOD SHEPHERDING

How does our communion with the Good Shepherd enable us to be good shepherds? We might think first about his focus on us. How does he shepherd us? How do we get out of his way to let him? He is always with us. He embraces, loves, encourages, forgives, draws us to be more like him, never gives up on us, and never lets go. Being on the receiving end of his shepherding ought to make us more like him in our shepherding of others.

How might we define the essence of shepherding? We should give ourselves permission to think about it … start at ground zero and build back carefully.

The essence of being a shepherd almost begs for redefinition in this performance-based, tradition-bound culture in which we’re immersed. I’m not a fast learner, but I think people like me might have an edge. Living in a different country, culture, and language for 40 years forced me to think outside the American box I grew up in. Transitioning back here after that much time has not been easy. You do a lot of stuff here that you assume to be foundational and universally accepted. I often see the same stuff as not necessarily normal… sometimes idiosyncratic—not to say weird. (A bit more about this in the next section…)

I want to define the essence of shepherding as watching Jesus do in others what he is doing in us. For starters, it was never meant to be about us in the first place. Our losses are not meant to subtract from our witness for the Gospel. On the contrary, God means for them to mature the uniqueness of our witness as we touch other lives with our calming trust in him, our undying hope, and our full assurance of salvation through the Lord Jesus Christ.

Which direction are we pointing? Nostalgia is “a longing/yearning/pining for the past.” We probably all know people who end up stuck in their swamp of grief…wallowing… shut down. Their loss seems to be their stumbling block. We have a decision to make here. We can nurture the nostalgia and long for something—or someone—we lost. Or, we can embrace our God-given challenge:

The work of the Spirit would convert our swamp of nostalgia into fuel for our nurturing of others.

We are an accumulation of life experiences, losses, and pain that make our witness unique. Our words can be meaningful to others in their seasons of loss—not just for assuaging their sorrow—but also for helping them see that their grief journey has a purpose… very much like ours. Everyone is called amid their grief to come alongside others who need the hope our Gospel brings.

Talk about mentoring and discipleship! Now, we have a true vision of disciples coming to maturity… of people finding their way through deep personal pain to a place of selfless ministry to others, of broken, grieving people finding renewed hope and usefulness in the Kingdom.

Is that not what the essence of shepherding should look like?

OUR WINTER OF REFLECTION

“All of humanity's problems,” Blaise Pascal said in 1654, “stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

Have we embraced the alone season? We shouldn’t put it off. We shouldn’t try to circumvent it. We have things to learn here that we will not learn elsewhere. The object of the exercise is to make the journey from alone to “swallowed up in an ocean of love.” I’m referring, of course, to the presence and fullness of God in our innermost being. The only way to deal with the aloneness is to stare it in the face in quiet solitude. We seek a dynamic, living experience of Jesus in our souls. We need to know we will survive without props or people to shore us up.

The Alone Season begins with reeling from the loss.

When Linda died, I was surprised by part of what I felt. Every life-altering decision had been made together, including coming to Christ and ending up in ministry in Latin America for 40 years. So now, Who is Greg without Linda? It was an unsettling moment of an unknown future combined with all options back on the table. It wasn’t a lengthy struggle, but it did take time to sort it out. I came away reassured that I still loved Jesus like I always had… even without Linda by my side. This was key to pulling my options back into a proper framework of Christ-centeredness that had always been integral to my life.

When Carol died, I was able to skip that step. However, I still reeled from the loss. I loved Carol, and, unbelievably, she loved me. It was true friendship… a level of camaraderie and genuine spiritual fellowship we never took for granted. She loved reading out loud. She was my cheerleader when I was writing or out running. Six years… it was a fantastic gift. What do I do without all of that now? The answer came back to me in words Carol spoke more than once when she shared our testimony:

“A man is not a solution. No man can fill the space in your soul. Only a solid relationship with God will do it.”

And for men, I would chime in with, “A woman is not a solution—for the same reason.”

The Alone Season comes with a silver lining.

A season of rest and recovery is almost forced upon us. In my case, the debilitating fatigue decided for me. We learn what too many refuse to know until they’re forced into a corner with no other option. It’s time to let go of some things. It’s time to delegate… something we should have thought of long before now, anyway. It’s time to back off, at least for a while. It might even be an excellent opportunity for a sabbatical. Who will not understand our need for a season of recovery and refreshing? We might discover joy in unexpected ventures through the providential hand of the “God of all Detail,”… even in old age.

Not many of us have the right to criticize an octogenarian in the White House for resisting the idea of stepping away at an appropriate time, in a dignified manner, whether for a season of recovery or permanently.

What… are we afraid we won’t be missed? As my granddaughter might say, “Get over yourself.” We’re not indispensable. We had our season, such as it was. They will get on fine without us—or they won’t. Either way, our time to correct mistakes, redesign our vision, or change their direction will be over. We’ll be a picture in the foyer and a pleasant memory… until those who knew us are gone, too.

The Alone Season can bear precious fruit.

Carol's funeral was in October of last year. In the Pacific Northwest, our November days are short and dark. My early morning hours were in the dark, watching Molly the Cat next to the fireplace and wondering when spontaneous combustion might kick in. It was also where I got well acquainted with the aloneness again.

There is a crucial journey that starts here. The starting point was loss… which led to sitting by a fireplace in the dark with “ALONE” screaming in my ears (you see, alone is not the same as quiet… usually not even close)… I needed to move somehow from alone to alone and quiet (the hard step for me was getting quiet). It was worth the stretch, though, because now I was positioned to move from alone and quiet to quiet and not alone… discovering quiet communion with the Lord… just him and me, in the dark corner of a dark house. This is the dynamic, living experience of Jesus we all desperately need. It’s the only real relief and source of restoration for our souls. This restoring and deep refreshing will be the most valuable commodity we will have to offer as under-shepherds of Jesus’ flock.

A SYNCHRONIZED DANCE - Part 2

Again, there is never a single moment in life that is all bad or all good. Some elements of both extremes are always present. Our dance is in the middle—the center—of awful burdens and deep thanksgivings at the same time… in the now… and in the next now… ad infinitum. I try to remind myself what the bottom line is here:

When I have nothing—no strength, no will, no breath—is when I lack for nothing …  because I have Christ!

We rejoice in our weaknesses because now we know—deeply and experientially—what was always true: Jesus is our all… our only source of strength… our only hope. We lack for nothing… even in diminished health… even on our deathbed!

Grace wins the day…always. This means that our final journey home might look different from what others expect.

Maybe if we celebrate grace under duress rather than the illusion of total victory we will be less surprised and more prepared when illness and evil lurch into our lives, as they always will; and maybe we will be a braver and better people if we know we cannot obliterate such things, but only wield oceans of humor and patience and creativity against them. We have an untold supply of those extraordinary weapons, don’t you think? One Long River of Song, by Brian Doyle, Essay: ‘On Not “Beating” Cancer’, p. 102.

Our synchronized dance? “But let patience have her perfect work…” (James 1:4, KJV) One writer I follow, quoting from the tech world, says about James 1:4…

“It’s a feature, not a bug.” Rachel Starr Thompson

It’s a lifelong process. Not much in life comes to us when and whenever we want it. I always wanted a magic spray like soccer players use… laid flat, writhing in pain, 2-3 quick sprays from the magic aerosol, and they’re back on the pitch again.

No instant gratification. Instant gratification usually happens with things that come back to bite us. We’ll need that kind of patience (steadfastness) until we’re not here anymore. Healing, maturing, and restoration take a lifetime. There is no naming and claiming here. We’re not meant to forget, shed our pasts, and move on. We carry them purposefully as part of what feeds our interaction with the hurting people in our lives today.

No “happily-ever-after”—until AFTER. We should think about what “after” will be like.

Meanwhile, let’s dance …

A SYNCHRONIZED DANCE - Part 1

I’m always fascinated by a couple dancing when it looks like they’re just one entity. Our dance doesn’t look flashy to outsiders, but I’m fascinated by watching God’s people do our kind of dance in a way that looks natural. It’s more intricate and beautiful than a “Texas Hold ‘em” routine. Our unique dance is the dance of Christ in us—treasure in clay pots—utter weakness, dancing with absolute power and perfection.

It’s easy to slip out of sync… but the way back always beckons.

When a health crisis invades people’s lives, I hear things like: “We’re going to fight this battle together. Losing is not an option. We must fight. We must win. If this doctor can’t fix it, we’ll go to Hell and back to find one who can. And when the battle is lost, I hear: “Well, they fought bravely. We didn’t think they would have lasted as long as they did.” Sometimes it sounds like: “We were winning, but God didn’t show up today.” Or, “We didn’t pray hard enough.” Or, “Our faith wasn’t strong enough.”

Staying in sync means finding the balance between praying for health and accepting our reality. A well-known passage in the Bible is the bedrock for our frail bodies and souls.

“Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (2 Corinthians 12:8-9, ESV)

Go ahead and ask… but after a few long silences, maybe it’s time to take it to the next level… resignation (not giving up, but acquiescing to the sovereign will of God), rejoicing in our newfound source of strength… (yes… our source of strength!)

“For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.” (2 Corinthians 1:5, ESV)

We remember the suffering with great detail, in living color. Are we so immersed in the comfort that we also remember every detail of that? Do we come away assuaged by the Spirit’s comfort? Can we talk about what we’ve gained as eloquently as we can describe what we’ve lost?

We must confront our addiction to “creature comforts” for what it is. Our main goal here is not to find a way to take away the pain and keep it away. Once we get that straightened out, we can think again about serving God and helping others—even while immersed in our own painful experiences.

MEEKNESS…

Peter, the Privileged… He’s not often given that title, but it’s a good title.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.” (This he said to show by what kind of death he was to glorify God.) And after saying this he said to him, “Follow me.”” (John 21:18-19, ESV)

Jesus informs Peter of the terrible way he would die. And, without batting an eye, he tells him, “Follow me.” As if to say, “I died for you to save you; you will die for me as an example to those who follow you.” And what did Peter do? He followed Jesus!

We, the Privileged…

As with Peter, so with us: whatever death has been appointed for us, it is meant to glorify God. This hard season—including the homestretch season—is also by divine appointment, right? God expects us to recognize the final homestretch for what it is. Ours is also meant to glorify God. And for all of our whys, pushbacks, and negotiating, his response to us will be the same as to Peter: “Follow me.”

We don’t desire a life of pain and suffering, but if that’s what it becomes, we must humble ourselves, give thanks, and pray for grace. For many, death is sudden and comes with no warning. For example, many others (like Linda and Carol) will recognize when the end is nearing. How can God be glorified through us right down to our crossing-over moment?

The Ultimate Meekness Test…

How does this help us when we see by what death our loved one is meant to glorify God? In what ways should this knowledge make us better caregivers? Maybe it’s about giving those of us still full of life the opportunity to give back to those who have given so much for us. Or perhaps it’s simply—undying love. More than obligation or commitment, we feel honored to be entrusted with such a role. That might work out more as… less frantic and more accepting of the situation… less desperation and more centeredness… more calm assurance and mettle… more words of spiritual comfort and hope… more of what our loved one most desires: Time together, physical closeness, embrace, hours and more hours alongside… just being there… praying there.

Point to ponder: I never felt like I spent enough time, and Carol never felt she had enough visitors. Yet, I had to balance my approach with the question: What if this is not a sprint to the finish line but more like a marathon? How do I stay on top of this for the long haul? (This might be a good talking point for later.)

RECOVERING OUR PERSPECTIVE (get a grip)

Augustine’s “City of God” was written some 1600 years ago. For me, it’s not an easy read. I’m going slowly through it in audio format. Sometimes, it helps me fall asleep for my nap. One thing that stands out so far is the section of short chapters that deal with martyrdom as a fact of life… how to face it… how to prepare for it… how to prepare our families for it. How do we leave a clear testimony for Christ until we draw our last breath? I haven’t seen very many How-To books dedicated to martyrdom for sale. Something like “10 steps to a successful death … Step 1: Be prepared - if you mess this one up, you won’t get a do-over; step 2…?”

We might need to rethink how we think about suffering. We are distinctly American, with an unjustifiable sense of entitlement, immersed in consumerism. If we get a handle on who the Lord is for us, we won’t get all OCD about “God, this hurts—make it go away.” Rock bottom? When we talk about rock bottom, much of the world only laughs. When we let ourselves see how and how much many millions of people are suffering… how can we not be thankful for whatever our lives are today? A recently translated poem:

THE SCREAM

And when their children
were murdered

the
Israelian
Palestinian
Iranian
Armenian
Syrian
Ukranian
…
mother

screamed the same scream
cried the same tears

the least we can do is to
acknowledge their pain.

A recent emigré from Ukraine to the United States was asked, “What stands out as being different here from your home country?” Her answer? “The sky is quiet.” Maybe we need a season of rockets whistling overhead and exploding a split second later in our neighborhoods, destroying our homes, killing people we know, taking family members… to readjust how we think about what we are entitled to.

Whatever our present trial, remember: It’s normal. We’re not being singled out for some unusual tragedy. It’s the human experience. We’re part of it. Everyone faces harsh realities and losses sooner or later. A capricious, vindictive god is not picking on us.

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.” (1 Peter 4:12-13, ESV)

“And he said, “Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.”” (Job 1:21, ESV)

Why is it so hard to say what Job said… and mean it?… and live it?

Our initial reaction to the unthinkable can be: How is this possible? After we pull ourselves together, we return to: “Thank you, Lord. I don’t understand, but I trust you. Whatever my life is today, Lord, nothing compares to what awaits me on the other side with you forever.”

This sanctified perspective is only possible as we look up… and let the Lord help us know and feel how insignificant our present situation is compared to what’s next.

Required: a healthy dose of meekness.

PROVIDENCE:

We are firm believers in God's providence. By confessing our trust in God’s providence, we recognize his divine hand in creating and expanding the cosmos. We also celebrate it in the minute details he orchestrates for us daily.

Recognizing the Savior’s shepherding care leads to a joyful steadiness. Or would it be better to call it a “Steady Joyfulness”? The emphasis should be on our joy in his presence moment by moment… It’s his joy that is our strength. Especially in my early years, I think I spent more time trying to be right than tap into the center of the story: the joy of the Lord, which is our strength.

There is never a single moment that is all bad or all good. Some elements of both extremes are always present. We can feel it in ourselves in the spirit/flesh tension we live with every moment. It’s an impossible mix to sort out on our own. We resolve these contradictions through our union (reconciliation) and communion with God. He wants us to walk with him every day. He means for us to be joyful… every day. Every moment is our opportunity to be present… breathing it ALL in… facing it… embracing it… and with a smile, repeating Carol’s mantra: “WE CAN TRUST GOD.”

THE STARTING POINT

What motivated us to look for God? Why did we embrace Jesus Christ as our Savior to begin with? It was because we were convinced we had found that one unified theory about life, death, and eternity. God, in his infinite mercy, allowed us to find him… and to find in him our reason for being. From birth to the grave, in the cross of Christ, we find the answer to everything.

So, it's not really unexpected even when we suddenly find ourselves in a radically different season. And we will still find ourselves on sure footing. We always know that even while the fires are burning, nothing ever happens outside the purview of God’s providence. Nothing surprises him; nothing slips his mind or gets left unattended.

What reward awaits us if we live to old age? I can think of at least a few, but the one that stands out? The longer we live, the more losses we will experience. But for those of us in Christ, we know we will meet again at table in the kingdom of God. “And people will come from east and west, and from north and south, and recline at table in the kingdom of God.” (Luke 13:29, ESV)

INTRODUCTION

I was recently invited to speak on this important topic at a conference. I had to cancel due to illness, but I still wanted to share what was in my heart while preparing for it. I was expecting to speak to people in ministry who were already acquainted with what I wanted to discuss. If you find a thought here to help on your journey, that’s all I aim for.

Each conversation works as a stand-alone for small groups or an intimate coffee time.

CONTEXT

Losses come in so many shapes and sizes. For this presentation, I’m focusing on the loss of 2 spouses. The Lord gave me 45 years with Linda and 6 years with Carol. Health issues were a big part of both of their stories. Linda was born with hers. Carol had her share of serious issues, but it was a major stroke and the subsequent 10 months that changed everything for her—for us.

Linda and I met around a stereo playing the Beatles’ new album—Abbey Road. That was the Fall of 1969. It would be nearly 3 years before we surrendered our hearts to Jesus. Linda left for heaven from Cancun, Mexico, on Feb. 02, 2015. We had a big crowd for her funeral in our home/church. I shared words in English out of respect for her brother and sister, who came from Washington State and Minnesota. I remain so thankful to my friend and pastor, Darrell Sparks, who came and shared an excellent message for everyone, with one of our ladies interpreting for him.

Carol and I met in September 2017. Her daughter and I met at a 3-day local workshop focused on helping middle school children and families in crisis. I thought my Spanish could be useful. She figured out she knew my family from the church they attended together. She also mentioned she and her family had been missionaries in Japan until her Dad was overwhelmed by the cancer that would take him to heaven. April mentioned something about me to her mom. Carol started reading and commenting on my blog. So basically, I tell people she stalked me on the Internet! Carol went to heaven from Vancouver, WA, on September 23, 2023. I was honored to preach at her funeral on October 07. We had a big crowd for that one, too.

PURPOSE

My subtitles are not in any particular order. We Americans like 10-step programs, checklists, and timetables for completing tasks. But grief doesn’t happen to everyone the same way, in the same order, or with the same intensity. Trying to manage my grief has gone about as well as my efforts to manage Carol’s cat.

I want to share seed thoughts for personal reflection and conversation starters with key people in our lives. These things have helped me, and I think they will still help me tomorrow.

My agenda is three-fold:

• To emphasize we can all experience the healing our Good Shepherd has prepared for us—a healing that restores our sense of purpose and usefulness. “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort,” (2 Corinthians 1:3, ESV)

• To encourage relationship-building of the sort that refreshes us deeply and engages us in helping one another on the same journey.

• To be available: It’s a trustworthy attitude when we find ourselves on the backside of another catastrophic transition. If we’re still here, God still has a purpose for us. It’s good to start looking outward again. I want to be available with a listening ear, an empathetic heart, and discretion.

First, some general principles, then on to some practical suggestions.