A liturgy for grieving from far away.
I have lost many friends and family in 10 years of global service.
Some moved from this life to the next with haste, while others suffered intensely.
Most passed at old age, some young, and others in between.
Each loss leaves its mark on me.
For some, I try to make it home to say goodbye, and for others, it’s not an option to say goodbye in person.
For those I am close to, yet not immediate family, it’s hard to justify the time and expense to journey back.
Father, I long to hold and hug those who are left behind.
Gathering around a table with dusty old photo books that bring laughter and tears and stories that don’t end, would bring an unexplained comfort.
Instead, I search for ways to find comfort from miles and miles away.
I strive to come up with creative means to remember and honor that our lives intersected on earth for a while.
I watch the memorial at 2am to be virtually present,
and I feel alone and connected at the same time.
I see the back of heads that I recognize;
I tell stories to people who have never met my loved one, and they are attentive and kind;
I journal about the impact that they have had on my life;
I send and receive electronic condolences that lighten the load.
And still, it is hard for me to believe they are really gone until I can physically see the spaces that they occupied in life and breath.
Their eyes pop up in pictures from last summer and look vibrant and real.
I remind myself of the empty reality.
I remember the last time we were together and relish it.
In this season of grief, pressing into You, the Eternal One, strengthens me for the labors I endure each day.
For those who have believed in their hearts and confessed with their mouths that you are Lord, there is a sweet comfort from You that I will see my loved ones again.
For those whose eternities were not so clearly defined, I beg for peace and mercy and am reminded why I do the work I do sharing Your love to the world.
My labors are not in vain, you remind me.
I am planting seeds with light and love, and You will bring increase.
In my sorrow, You gather my tears, comfort my heart, and transform my character.
There is agony in my suffering, yet joy in the reality that You are truly near the broken hearted, which feels paradoxical.
May their absence give me a greater sense of Your presence during this difficult time. When I cross the ocean next, I will hug each one tighter, listen more closely, and love more intentionally. For those who You allow to witness my grief, thank You for the empathy that surpasses their experience.
I am grateful for those whose presence has brought Your peace to me in the loneliness of grief.
Amen
