I had intended to continue my conversation with you this month about the essential nature of the church, but to tell you the truth, my heart is just not in it right now.  You see, a dear member of my family died recently and my heart is still tender with grief.  So if you don’t mind, to help me work through my grief I’d like to tell you about my Aunt Carrie.

  Aunt Carrie was always my favorite aunt.  Although I loved all of my aunts, Carrie had a special place in my heart.  Our families spent a lot of time together over the years and I have such wonderful memories of holidays, vacations and just ordinary days spent with Aunt Carrie and her family.  When my mother became ill with cancer, Carrie spent a lot of time at our house caring for my mother and for us kids.  After my mother died, Carrie became more than an aunt—she was like a mother to me.  Whenever she saw me, she would always tell me that she loved me and that my mother would be so proud of me.  In fact, when I saw her the last time, she couldn’t really talk very much, but when I turned to leave her room, she said in a strong, clear voice, “I love you.”  It was one final, wonderful gift to me.

  There were many other wonderful gifts that my Aunt Carrie gave to me over the years.  I thank God for her sparkling eyes and joyful smile that lit up every room and warmed every heart.  I thank God for her beauty, both outer and inner beauty.  I am thankful for her love of God that helped me to come to know God.  Although I have been to Bible college, seminary and graduate school, there are some things about God that I learned first and foremost from Aunt Carrie.  She was a person of deep and abiding faith and I thank God for her example of faith.  But most of all, I thank God for her hugs.  Because my mother was sick for so long before she died, most of my memories of my mother revolve around her illness.  For so long she was too weak and in too much pain to give much attention to her kids.  Sadly, I do not have a memory of my mother hugging me, but I have such wonderful memories of my Aunt Carrie’s hugs after my mother died.  Every time I saw her (no matter how old I got), she would wrap me tightly in her arms and hold me close.  It made me feel safe and secure.  It helped me to feel loved.

  As a minister for over 30 years now, I have had many occasions to help people work through their grief.  Words that I have spoken to others now help me to remember that grief is a very personal matter.  No two people grieve alike.  Grief also has a physical element to it as well as emotional and spiritual.  As I grieve, my mind has a tendency to wander.  I get tired more easily.  I am more vulnerable to stress.  Grief often causes second-guessing—should I have done something differently, should I have visited more often, did I express my gratitude and say “I love you” enough?  All of this and more comes naturally with grief, and because grief does not feel very well, may times we feel like we need to get over it as soon as possible.  But our goal should not be to grieve quickly, but to grieve well.  For many, many years I did not grieve well over my mother’s death.  I began to grieve well when my grief turned from simply feeling sadness over my loss to feeling joy and thanksgiving for the gifts of life that my mother shared with me.  I pray that as I grieve for my Aunt Carrie now, my sorrow will turn to joy as I remember with deeper gratitude her gifts of life to me.

July 2010 

  Peace and joy,    

Pastor Gary