Somewhere in the first month or two after my husband died, I developed a strange system of trying to measure my progress. Each evening I would reflect back on my day and determine how I was doing. My criteria included how many times I cried and for how long. It was like I wanted a Fitbit for my grief to measure it. It worked for a while, until it didn’t. Grief can’t be measured or contained. Grief is the result of loving someone.

Another component in my attempt to measure my progress was to determine that this wasn’t going to be my life forever. There was a battle in my mind to measure progress rather than allow myself to move through the process. Entering the process is where we feel, weep, ache, lament, pray, mourn and plod through, holding on and being held by our Heavenly Father.

Kate Bowler, author of “No Cure for Being Human” and “Everything Happens for a Reason” reflects with these words: “We all need a bit of permission to allow ourselves time and space to feel the weight of loss, and move through it in our own way. My friend and former cello teacher lost her husband last year, and the week after the funeral, to the chagrin of those thought she should be taking a break, there she was at the piano accompanying the services as she always did. That was her way of living through her loss, with keys under her fingers, helping others the way she always did. So, my dears, what can then be said of grief except that is the burden of love? It can’t be defined or drawn, only suffered. But what must be said, what must be given, is the permission to feel it. All of it. Not as a state, but as a process. No one can tell you what that process must be for you, just now. So gently, gently, let it lead you through.”

So, with those words, let us gently move through process with hope and grace.

"Grateful Yet Grieving"

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download

See Pam’s story as featured in Dayspring’s recent book:

“Sweet Tea for the Soul: Comforting, Real-Life Stories for Grieving Hearts”