Grief - Silence in Grief

TRANSCRIPT: Good morning, Five Minute Families. Thank you for joining us this morning. At Clear View Retreat, we reach out to families in both the ‘norms’ and ‘storms’ of life. Much of what we discuss here comes from what we are living out at the moment, so we are going to continue to discuss how families can honor the Lord and support each other through the process of grief. After someone dies, many folks stay away because they just don’t know what to say. Part of that issue stems the fact that when we greet people, our normative opening is to ask “How are you?” On any regular day, most of us will answer briefly and superficially. We’ll say, “I’m fine” even if we are far from it. When you know someone’s family member has died, it can seem frustrating to you if you ask that question out of habit. We all do it. If the person seems to be struggling to answer you, you can let them know it is acceptable to say, “I’m not ok but I am pushing on” or something like that, would be perfectly fine. Around here, my mom has begun saying, “I am not ok right now.” Sometimes, she adds, “But, I know I will be.” I can kinda gauge her mood by whether she adds that second part. However, there have been moments that her tears caught me by surprise. Well, not fully surprise, but surprise in the moment. You get what I mean. And, often, I have no words of comfort for her. There is nothing I can do to speak her beloved husband back into her arms. I am reminded of Psalm 37:7, “Be silent before the Lord and wait expectantly for him.” God is the Great Comforter, not us. Think about it like this for a moment: When a baby cries, we feed, burp, and change them. If that doesn’t work, we rock and pat them. Sometimes, they fall asleep. Sometimes, we just need to keep holding them, letting them know we are there. When an adult cries, we go into ‘fix-it’ mode for them, too. We tell them it’s going to be ok, even if we know it won’t be. But, do we keep holding them? Sometimes it is awkward to say nothing and just let the person cry. But, listen