Pain doesn’t come in pounds or ounces or gallons. You just feel like you are standing before a mountain that you are going to have to move one spoonful at a time. It is a task you can never hope to complete. A mountain that you can never hope to finish moving. But as you stand surveying that mountain of grief a loved one steps forward with a hug that communicates clearly. You can almost picture that person stepping up to your mountain of grief with a spoon and saying, ‘I cannot move the mountain for you but I will take this one spoonful full of your grief and deal with it myself.’
The English word “comfort” comes from two Latin words that together mean “with strength.” The Holy Spirit is called the “Comforter” because He strengthens us and enables us to handle the challenges facing us. The Greek word translated “comforter” means “one called alongside to help.” The word “Christian” means “little Christ.” We are His arms, His legs, His hands and His voice.
With every touch in, by everyone of you this last year, you have taken a spoon and helped me dig a tunnel thru this mountain of grief. Every time you have lifted us up in prayer, another spoonful. Every card, every text, another spoonful of dark damp earth, tossed aside, helping me to make a way thru to the other side.
We should never doubt the importance of compassion. When the torment of one person leads another to be moved, and changed, by the distress of someone other than himself, it is an evidence of God’s rich love and mercy for us all. When you share my tears, it’s another spoonful. When you read this blog, you take merciful steps towards me and I know I am not alone digging my way thru the ominous mountain. When you walk bravely into what I am feeling, then we together begin to bring down the power of despair, a spoonful at a time.
I love you all and there will never be a way for me to adequately express what you mean to me and how much you have helped me on my journey of grief! Each step taken, each touch in, by every person taking it, is a spoonful of dirt removed from my mountain of grief, and gives meaning to what appeared meaningless.
grieving with hope 
I loved your sentence, …” a mountain that you can never hope to finish moving.” This mountain becomes a giant hill much like the ‘mountains’ in jArizona compared to the mountains such as the Cascades or Sierra Nevadas; ever present, still giant but perhaps a little softer at the edges and climbable. Though I haven’t commented lately, I have still prayed for you.
((((( Hugs)))))
Love you friend ❤
Your blog has helped me understand some of the grief I have experienced. I find comfort knowing we are not alone in this journey.
So do I…so do I sweet friend
We are so thankful to be a part of your life Alisa. We will continue to pray and lift you and your family up. xo
The feeling is mutual. Love you friend ❤
Praying that the sweet words of Jesus will comfort when you are overwhelmed and His strong arms will scoop you up when you are overcome… understanding your walk thru this difficult week.
Thank you for your continued prayers. Hugs
We will dig together for the rest of our earthly lives even though we have no hope of completing the task. The mountain is too big because of our great love for Grant; there is a direct correlation between the quantum of our love for Grant and the size of that mountain. The good news is that even though that mountain will ever loom before us in this earthly life, one day our grief will be over. One day we will be reunited. And as you have said in other posts, those days, the ones after we are reunited with Grant in Heaven, will vastly exceed the number of days we spend apart from Grant. I can’t wait for these days to seem like a hiccup, breath, or fleeting moment. Until then, we will press on together.
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