A Time to Mourn

Mourning parasol, 1895-1900.
Photo copyright the Metropolitan Museum of Art
In honor of the death of President Bush 41 last week, a day of mourning was declared to coincide with the day of his funeral. Federal offices were closed, the stock market took a day off, and the mail wasn't delivered.  

And though I never met President Bush 41 nor was I old enough to understand anything about politics or government when he served, I cherished the half-mast flags and the lack of mail. 

I love mourning

That seems like a weird thing to say, especially considering we're ten days from Christmas, the "most wonderful time of the year," right? Maybe. But mourning is healthy. Mourning is cleansing and cathartic. Mourning is an outward expression of an inward hurt.

Mourning is part of healing.

I remember when my grandmother died: on the morning of her funeral, I woke up and looked out the window to a beautiful sunny day. And it made me mad; I wanted even the weather to mourn with me. There was a part of me that wanted everyone in my line of sight to be standing on the side of the road, hat in hand, head bowed, as we drove past. That would have helped.

Because loss is isolating. Even when others mourn with you, it's hard to feel like anyone understands what you're going through. 

Death is mourned for a few days but then, for some reason, we feel like we need to "get on with life" or "move on." Before the sadness passes or the very raw emotions are gone, we rush ourselves back to "normal," even though we'll never know that normal again. Or, worse, we feel rushed out of our mourning by friends or employers or society in general before the wounds have begun to heal. 

Why do we do that to ourselves and each other?

Death isn't the only thing worthy of mourning:

  • We mourn the end of a season. Empty nests, job changes, and the last kid getting potty trained signal the end of what was and a completely new what will be. And though seasons change whether we want to or not, we may not be ready. 
  • We mourn the end of a relationship. Whether that person moved physically or became emotionally detached, it's a painful separation that leads to our deep feelings of loss.
  • We mourn a lost opportunity. Maybe you were looking so forward to that job opportunity or that trip but, for whatever reason, it's not happening now.
  • We mourn our new normal. When a friend's husband was diagnosed with cancer, I called and asked her, "How are you? Really?" to which she replied, "It feels a lot like grief." Her husband's diagnosis put to death their plans and the life they loved. 

We don't mourn enough. Since the presidential day of mourning last week, I've taken a few minutes here and there to mourn for others: 

  • For the friends who suffered miscarriages and would never know their babies
  • For the woman whose husband suffered a tragic accident and is confined to a wheelchair
  • For the people on the cover of Time magazine whose children were killed at school
  • For the young woman whose engagement was broken
  • For the friend who had to shut out her emotionally-abusive mother from her life
  • For the people who lost their homes and everything in them to the wildfires in California
  • For the friend who finally realized she will never have a healthy relationship with her father
  • For the mother whose adult son has turned his back on his family and God 
Ecclesiastes 3 tells us that "there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die...a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance," (NIV). 

Have you taken time to mourn? Really mourn? Or did you barely survive through the funeral or initial shock only to shove the feelings deep down and hope they wouldn't resurface?

Or maybe you did mourn, a long time ago, but maybe you should do it again. Do you need to step away from your responsibilities and society and daily life and take time to cry out to God, journal your memories, or just sit and look at photographs? Maybe you should mourn alone, or maybe someone else could mourn with you. 

I  want to encourage you to take a day of mourning if you need it. Use a day off work or college or shopping and just mourn. Cry if you need. Remember if you want. Pour out your heart to Jesus, the only One who understands your loss and can comfort you with His peace and hope that He is forever. "He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds," (Psalm 147:3, NLT). 


American flags will continue to fly at half-mast for 30 full days. Let them be our reminder and permission to mourn.



@leslienotebook
myleslienotebook@gmail.com

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