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.