At some point in our lives we will all experience heart break or loss. Though our losses are different, we are able to recognize them in each other. We may speak from different landscapes of the shattered heart, but we can still aim to bless each other from that shared territory. The brokenhearted territory.

How can I aim to bless those who find themselves in this disorienting and unfamiliar landscape? You may think it is nearly impossible to think about blessings in the wake of losing a child, and some days it is. But generally that’s not the trend. I might be so bold to say that one cannot fully and accurately recognize and appreciate a blessing until you have personally felt or witnessed profound heartache.

There is a poem that was brought to my attention in my writing course. Written by John Donohue (an Irish priest and poet) as a blessing to his mother when his father was on his deathbed.

 

On the day when the Weight

Descends on your shoulders

And you stumble, May the clay dance

To balance you.

And when your eyes

Freeze behind

The grey window and the ghost

Of loss gets into you,

May a flock of colours, Indigo, red, green

And azure blue

Come to awaken you

A meadow of delight.

When that canvas frays

In the currach of thought

And a stain of ocean

Blackens beneath you,

May there come across the waters

A path of yellow moonlight

To bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,

May the clarity of light be yours,

May the fluency of the ocean be yours,

And so, may a slow wind work

These words of love around you,

An invisible cloak

To mind your life.

Many of us assume that if we cannot fix or reverse ones pain than any effort to comfort is futile. “Nothing I can say or do will change this, so I will do and say nothing!”  Notice that nowhere does this poem mention the elimination pain. Most of the imagery is used to describe and acknowledge the painful landscapes she will inevitably discover. And when she finds herself in these pits, he merely offers a blessing to cushion the pain – admitting that it may be momentary.

My sister and I saw Peter and the Starcatcher on Broadway, this line had always stuck with me;  “No! Its supposed to hurt! That’s how you know it meant something.”  I have stumbled across a term, Spiritual Bypassing. It is the attempt to transcend, without having to face humanness or negativity or hurt. When, in fact, it’s the ugly parts of our humanness where the growth occurs.

Who writes this stuff?!

My current culture, the sisters in Christ, Instagram, flowery, yoga, hippie version of Biblical living is full of this. The concept of “ridding yourself of negative people” and “positive vibes only”. Not only is that completely unrealistic, but it is also a recipe to remain emotionally and spiritually stunted! Like I said above, we recognize brokenness in each other, though it may be different, we can recognize it, acknowledge it, and find some way to bless the brokenhearted. Simply disengaging with those who you see as ‘negative’ seems unkind and unloving. This obviously doesn’t apply all the time, but I urge you to dig deeper into what appears to be a negative force in someone.

This Valentine’s Day remember those we are brokenhearted. Offer them love and bless them with something – knowing it wont cure or fix, but offer a brief moment of solace or ease.

On a more personal note

Now that it has been 6 months (a blink & yet an eternity) I find I am now somewhat able to ‘look back’ and see my grief. The cycles. For example, I can recognize the first month as uniquely grim. I can see when I started to release the feelings of guilt – and how that effected and redirected my grief journey. I imagine I am finding myself at a peak where I can identify certain landmarks I had reached in this journey.

Not even a month ago I found myself continuing to lament about how “…designing, and purchasing a headstone for Eden is the last thing on earth I want to do.”  But suddenly I find myself ready to start that process, even itching to get it done! I can’t tell you what has changed, I’m just “ready” now. I feel the same thing happening with the nursery. As I have mentioned before, her room is unchanged. Everything is left exactly as it had been since the morning we found her. However, lately I have found my mind wandering to the different possibilities for that space. I don’t think I am ready to change anything in there just yet, but now I seem to recognize that in many areas where I seem to be stuck in my grief – I have hope that I will one day be unstuck.

This leads to a fear of mine. I have written about this before – and I must make clear that the only person who is making me feel this way is me.  I have a fear that if I share anything positive in my journey, dare I show any resolve, those around me will assume all is well. Sharing in my blog that I am learning to “carry her with me in my heart” as I did a few weeks back made me feel vulnerable. It was true, but what if people think that I am better now, back to normal, good as new? Sharing these profound moments when my heart and my head align can be misleading. I want to share them for their significance and deep soul centering, but hesitate for I know they are fleeting. They are simple sparks of healing, in a largely dark and dormant landscape.

The key word is that I am learning.  Before I am confident in that imagery of carrying her in my heart, I need to know in the depths of my soul that the length and severity in which I allow myself to suffer – is not how my love for Eden is measured. But I just don’t think I am there yet. I have hope that one day I will be “unstuck’ from that too – but for now, my grief and sadness are alive and well, and unfortunately it does still feel like suffering. I cannot let go of that… yet.

 

“This is the time to be slow,

Lie low to the wall

Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can not to let

The wire brush of doubt

Scrape from your heart

All sense of yourself

And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,

Time will come good;

And you will find your feet

Again on fresh pastures of promise,

Where the air will be kind

And blushed with beginning.

John O’Donohue – To Bless the Space Between us.