Sad Happens: A Celebration of Tears

From the book’s website:

“When was the last time you cried? Was it because you were sad? Or happy? Overwhelmed, or frustrated? Maybe from relief or from pride? Was it in public or in private? Did you feel better afterwards, or worse? The reasons that we cry—and the circumstances in which we shed a tear—are often surprising and beautiful. Sad Happens is a collective, multi-faceted archive of tears that captures the complexity and variety of these circumstances.”

Not only is this book right up my alley as a Hospice Bereavement Counselor, but I am humbled to say that I have a piece included in this wonderful compilation alongside some really cool people like Hanif Abdurraqib, Matt Berninger, Phoebe Bridgers, Helado Negro, and Claire Rousay.

“Sad Happens is a collective, multi-faceted archive of tears that captures the complexity and variety of sadness, joy, love, a sense of community, and a host of other emotions. Available 11/14/23.”

  • Visit the book’s website

  • Order the book from Amazon

the Ghostbusters Tackle Grief

The other night we watched the 2016 Ghostbusters movie. I don’t know if you’ve seen it. It’s very funny. But that’s not really my point right now. Though, if you don’t believe me, here is the trailer:

My family enjoys this movie, but that’s not what I want to talk about.

I want to talk about grief. and about how the only way to get through grief is to grieve.

Grief is our natural emotional response to any significant loss or change.

Emotions are energy.

Energy must expend itself. Bad things happen when we bottle up our emotional energy. We can either explode and lash out at others. You know the saying: “Hurt people hurt people.” Grief hurts. Or, we can implode and direct that emotional energy back at ourselves in self-destructive thoughts or behaviors. Part of learning to deal with grief is learning how each one of us processes emotional energy in healthy ways.

The only way to get through grief is to grieve. That emotional energy must let itself out because it is our love with nowhere left to go. The only way to get through grief is to grieve. Just like in Pixar’s ‘Finding Nemo’ where the only way through the trench is “through it, not over it.

Grief is our natural emotional response to any significant loss or change.

Emotions are energy.

Energy exhausts itself.

Grief is not not the same thing as depression.

Grief comes and goes like waves. Depression is a constant heaviness that does not lift no matter the circumstances. The two often intertwine, but they are not the same. If you wonder if you might be experiencing depression, please contact a trained professional.

Grief is our natural emotional response to any significant loss or change.

Emotions are energy.

Energy exhausts itself.

The only way to get through grief is to grieve.

Back to Ghostbusters: there’s this scene where they’re testing out their new equipment behind the Chinese food restaurant where they rent office space.

Melissa McCarthy’s character Yates gets caught up in a laser beam that separates her from her footing and changes her direction and shakes her about just like grief does for so many of us. As she’s flailing about, Leslie Jones as Toran says: “I guess she’s not bending her knees enough, right?” This, of course is a reference to ate McKinnon’s Holzmann trying to ease Yates into all this by saying: “You’re going to want to plant your feet firm; bend your knees to compensate for the extra kick-back.”

You can’t plan for grief. You think you can, but grief is an emotional process that doesn’t care what preparations you’ve made. It will whip you about and leave you unsteady, but it does not control you.

Yates finally comes to earth only as Holzmann urges: “She’s doing a marvelous impression of a deflating balloon. We’ve just gotta let her ride it out until it’s out of juice.”

This is the grief process. “We’ve just gotta let her ride it out until it’s out of juice.” I wish I had different news for you, but the only way to get through grief is to grief. Pay attention to your emotions and how you process them.

2021 Wrap-Up :: This Is (sort of) About Jam Bands

The past couple of years have been hard for all of us. I started my Clinical Pastoral Education process in January of 2020 right before the Pandemic it. This was also right when I started working primarily as a Bereavement Counselor. As COVID tsunamied through our communities, I quickly transitioned to working from home. Normally, that’s fine. I have a big family, but I also have a private office, so I can actually focus on work.

But that also meant that my trips outside of the house greatly decreased. I have to go to my work office at least once a week to pick up and drop off mail, but other than that, I have to largely make excuses to get out of the house. And again, “normally", that’s fine for a home-body like me.

But I LOVE live music.

And, even with a large family, my wife and I make regular attempts to experience live. It is important to us. It is important to me. I can’t imagine life without it. Or at least I couldn’t. Until I had to. I saw two concerts in 2020, ending in February (TERRY RILEY!). I didn’t go to another live music experience until August of 2021 (NEKO CASE!). That’s a long time to go without live music; especially when (even as an Introvert), it’s something that energizes you.

And then, after seeing the terrific line-up of Lucinda Williams, Gov’t Mule, Avett Brothers, and and Willie Nelson, but before seeing Dead and Co., my wife and went to see Phish.

This post is not about what you think about “Jam Bands.” This post is about my experience at a Phish concert.

I love Phish. I love jambands. I love musical improvisation. I love being part of a group that is experiencing a once-in-a-life-time moment. The music will never be repeated again in that way. You can re-listen to it, but if you weren’t there, you weren’t there. It’s not the same. At least it doesn’t carry the same emotional weight. It might gain emotional weight as you re-listen in various stages of life, but if you weren’t there; you weren’t there.

My work as a pastor, a hospice chaplain, and as a bereavement counselor continually reminds me that life is fragile. It can’t be repeated. There are no do-overs (this is not about re-incarnation). One of the things I hear continually, time after time from the grievers I walk with is; I wish I’d spent more time with them; I wish I’d been more present.

In the words of Ferris Bueller, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

And seeing Phish live again for the first time in 20-something years forced this all upon me. There I was under the sunbaked stars with nearly 20,000 other people, most of all my wife, hearing music that would never be repeated the same way; experiencing a moment that was gone as soon as it was known. Such is life. Or, as Vonnegut might say, “So it goes,” or maybe “Hi Ho.” Whatever.

Live music, particularly any live music that incorporates improvisation is a reminder that life is about the here and now. If we spend all of our time focusing on the past, we will likely find ourselves bogged down with regret and sadness or glorifying our past; there’s no way I can ever live up to that again. Or, if we spend most our emotional time and energy thinking about the future, we (or at least I do) end up with nothing but anxiety.

But live music can help remind us that it doesn’t have to be that way. Whatever happened to us in the past; regardless of what we’ll experience once we exit the venue; there is the here and now. There is the band and the lights and the crowd and something special.

But that’s life, isn’t it? It might be a special moment, but it is special because it reminds us what is special about life. This is it. Do something. Do something for others. Create something. Protect something. Advocate for something. Get outside of yourself. Read. Write. Draw. Compose. Listen. Run. Hike. Explore.

“In a world gone mad a world gone mad There must be something more than this.”

Seeing Phish live again reminded me why I love live music. Because live music reminds me to love life.

FOOTNOTE (As it were):

This post is not about my favorite concert of 2021. I don’t generally like ranking things, but I’m comfortable pointing out if one stood out for me above others. So, if we’re talking about “that” concert for 2021, it was Erykah Badu. Seriously. If you haven’t had a chance to see her live, please do so as soon as you feel safe.


  • Browse my favorite albums of the year

  • Browse my “2021 Yearly Wrap-it-Up” which is really a ramble about seeing Phish

  • Browse my favorite books of 2021

  • Browse my favorite movies of 2021

  • Browse my favorite television of 2021

  • Listen to a nearly 5-hour very low quality mix of one song from each of my favorite albums of 2021 called “Soundtrack to the Collective Meltdown”


A Former Pastor's Guide to Entering Chaplaincy

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I pastored for about 15 years before resigning when my wife and I adopted four kids from foster care (you can read about that journey here). Part of what helped me make the transition from pastoring in a local church “back into the career pool” was finding my way in to chaplaincy.

Chaplains are typically ordained clergy working for non-religious organizations. The position gained prominence (if you can call it that) mostly through the role of military chaplains, though many people might have received a visit at some point from a hospital chaplain. My own experience has been as a hospice chaplain. I know others who serve as “workplace chaplains” serving employees at major corporations. I also know people who serve as chaplains to professional sports teams.

You might think of chaplains as “pastors for hire,” though that sounds much more crude than I mean it to be. But it’s sort of true. The term was originally associated with the Christian faith but quickly grew in to a multi-faith discipline. Chaplains provide spiritual support in professional contexts. Many chaplains have served as pastors, but chaplaincy is much different from pastoring (and this drives many pastors crazy).

Chaplains are not there to proselytize. Whatever your own faith background is your support system, not necessarily the patient’s belief system; it’s where you find strength, but it might not be where the patient finds strength. A chaplain’s role is, as much as possible, to help someone progress up Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs through healing listening and spiritual support when requested. Our role is not to convert people before they die, or to “convert” them at all. The chaplain’s role is to meet the person within their own belief system to help them find comfort and strength. This is best done by providing space for the individual to birth their story. We are there to midwife their story. There is something powerful and healing about being able to speak honestly in a judgement-free space with someone who is simply there for you. This is not a criticism, but that is not always how pastors view their interactions with people. Pastors often believe that their role (because it is requested of them) to provide answers and to explain things; to help people “make sense of what’s going on.” This is not the role of the chaplain.

Chaplaincy is spiritual care. Chaplaincy is ministry. Chaplaincy is not only non-denominational, it is multi-faith. Chaplains are not there to explain everything or provide answers; chaplains are there to “companion” people through their difficult times. Most often, this means providing a safe space for people to talk about what they need to talk about without being corrected, judged, or directed.

As the covenant of the College of Pastoral Supervision and Psychotherapy says:

“We believe we should make a space for one another and stand ready to midwife one another in our respective spiritual journeys. Because we believe that life is best lived by grace, we believe it essential to guard against becoming invasive, aggressive, or predatory toward each other. We believe that persons are always more important than institutions.”

Chaplains provide spiritual and emotional support without directing the other person’s beliefs. And, since chaplains are not pastors (even though most are somehow ordained), their pastoral credentials are not sufficient. Most people who desire to pursue professional chaplaincy will need to pursue Board Certification. This is a process in which the candidate prepares an application packet, submits it to a certifying board and then sits in front of that board for an in-person interview. The board will then either certify the prospective chaplain or make recommendations. Many will pursue Board Certification as a Chaplain (though it is not required for every chaplain role) and this process begins with CPE.

Clinical Pastoral Education is an inter-faith, peer-reviewed learning process. It usually consists of 1600 hours of supervised and peer-reviewed learning. This includes 4 units which usually consist of 100-150 hours of supervised instruction/group learning and 250-300 hours of supervised clinical experience. This will also include “Case Studies.” Each program might require a different number of Case Studies (3-6 is typical per unit), sometimes also called “Verbatims.” Each student will document a patient encounter in as much detail as possible. This includes a section where the patient interaction is quoted “verbatim;” you write it out as clearly as you can recall including all dialogue. Your group will then offer constructive criticism of the interaction. The process requires humility and self-awareness and will push you in both.

It should be noted that not every CPE program offers Board Certification for chaplains. The most well-known CPE program is ACPE. If you want to be a hospital chaplain, this is the “go to” certification process. However, ACPE does not do Board Certification. Instead, they partner with the Board of Chaplaincy Certification Inc (BCCI). If you want to serve as a chaplain outside of the hospital context, I recommend the College of Pastoral Supervision and Psychotherapy (CPSP). ACPE will require that your clinical service hours be at an ACPE approved hospital. CPSP will often let you use your work hours (provided they’re appropriate) as your clinical hours. I have a lot of kids still in the home and ACPE just wasn’t a good fit for me. I work full-time as a Bereavement Counselor, and then I had to find time for my 250 clinical hours on top of that, including required overnight on-call shifts. It just didn’t work for this guy with a big family, but it is the most widely recognized program.

Once you finish your four units of CPE, then you sit before a board of your peers for certification. This process is not required for many chaplain positions, but it is suggested for job security and professional growth. I understand that this additional 1,600 hours on top of an MDiv (or whatever your ordination path was) may seem like an obstacle to many people. However, it has been a time of tremendous personal and professional growth for me. I spent 15 years as a “Pastor” and I’m just about to start my 4th unit of CPE. I feel like I’m just now beginning to understand how to offer spiritual support to people in a different way. I am so thankful for this process.

If you’re curious but not sure how to begin, the easiest way to find your way into chaplaincy is to find a small hospice in your area offering a PRN position. “PRN” technically means “Pro re nata” and is usually applied to prescriptions in a “just take as you need it” sort of way. It’s s a prescription, but only take it when you need it. This is a “PRN” chaplain. You are technically an employee of that company, but you only work when required. You will make visits to hospice patients, but this will also introduce you to the medical side of chaplaincy.

Most medical chaplaincies will require participation on IDG/IDT every other week. These are “Inter-disciplinary” groups or teams. Every other week, the entire care team including Doctor, Social Worker, Nurse/Case Manager, and Chaplain will gather together to modify the patient’s care plan. As a chaplain (particularly in the hospice context), you will be responsible for creating and implementing a spiritual care plan for the patient. Remember, our role is not to “convert” them but to help them find strength within their own existing belief system.

Chaplains are often former pastors, but they are not pastors. Chaplains are there to help people discover, communicate, and process their own understandings (“birth their stories”) of what’s happening to them. Chaplains are there to allow space for people to talk about what they need to talk about rather than directing them towards our own preconceived ideas.

There is so much more to be said, but for now I think leave off here. Please let me know your insights. Is there anything I missed or got wrong? Are you a chaplain? What has your experience been like? Are you also a former pastor? Was the transition from pastoring to chaplaincy difficult for you?

What else?

The Fundamentals of Grief

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Grief is an unfortunate reality. But we don’t like to talk about it. Possibly because so few of us understand grief and certainly because it makes most of us quite uncomfortable.

In my role as a Bereavement Counselor, there are certain themes that come up over and over again. I’ve internally labeled these themes as “the fundamentals of grief.” In other words, if we only have a couple of minutes together, these are the things you should know (feedback welcome).

Bereavement is the act of losing; we are bereaved of someone or something we love.

Grief is our natural emotional response to that loss.

Mourning is the public rituals we use to help process our grief (funerals, memorials, celebrations of life, wakes, etc.).

Grief is universal and unique.

Grief is something all of us will face. But no one will go through it in the same way. This means that there is no comparison and there is no timeline. No one will go through it in the same way or the same timeframe. No love is alike. No loss is alike.

Grief is not weakness. Grief is not a problem to be solved. Grief is not the enemy. And your grief does not need to be defended or explained. Grief is our natural emotional response to loss (bereavement).

Grief cannot be separated from, or be understood apart from love. Grief is evidence of our love (some say that grief is the price we pay for love). It is our love for someone special with nowhere left to go. It’s that feeling you get when you reach out for that someone special who has always been there, only to find that when you need them most, they’re no longer there.

Grief is our natural emotional response to that loss and change and grief can contain conflicting emotions at the same time. We might feel relief that our loved one is no longer suffering while also feeling angry about the way things turned out while also feeling sad and lonely, while also feeling joy remembering some of the times we had together; all at the same time. Since grief can contain conflicting emotions at the same time, it is often quite difficult to understand or make sense of.

Grief is an emotional process; not an intellectual process. Since grief is an emotional process, we cannot talk ourselves through it. There are no stages or steps to follow. Grief is not a problem to be solved. It is the emotional outworking of our love with nowhere left to go.

Emotions are energy.

We are holistic people. Since grief produces so many emotions (and since emotions are energy), grief can affect us physically. Some people report physical pain associated with their grief. Others will report “grief brain,” tending to forget things or report “fuzzy thinking.” Some people will report fatigue and sleep too much. Others will report anxiety and too little sleep. Some people will eat too much (usually for comfort) while others will report little to no appetite. Just as our emotional manifestations of grief will differ from those of other people, our physical responses will vary as well. No one will go through grief in the same way or in the same timeline.

There are no stages or steps. Eventually, those emotions; all that energy works itself out. The only way to get through grief is to grieve. The emotions will come and go like waves. Sometimes we’ll know what triggers them and sometimes we won’t. But grief is not the same thing as depression. Depression (as least as I’ve experienced it) does not lift whereas grief comes and goes and eventually subsides (though it may never completely go away).

There is much more to be said here, but these are the basic that I try to ensure everyone understands. What do you think? What would you add?


Wanda's Vision of Grief

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Disney/Marvel’s WandaVision has cast the cultural spotlight on something we all experience but don’t want to talk about. The series takes place in the Marvel universe after the events of Endgame.

Wanda Maximoff’s brother has been killed in battle. Her Love, Vision (a synthezoid made from vibranium) is also gone. Through flashbacks we learn about the bombing-death of her parents as well as the traumatic experiences of her youth.

Without giving too much away, Wanda, like most of us, never has quite the time to process her trauma and go through her grief, you know, with saving the world and all. Each unresolved loss builds on the next until the heaviness feels suffocating. And in the last episode, we learn that Wanda’s grief exploded (literally) in an unconscious attempt to protect herself. As the episode unfolds, we are privileged to a conversation between Wanda and Vision. And everyone’s been talking about “that quote” from Vision. But before we get to that, let’s set some context.

Grief is our natural reaction to any significant loss or change. Grief is an emotional process; our emotional response to that loss or change. Since it is an emotional process, not an intellectual process, we can’t talk our way out of it and there are not “logical steps” to be done. Instead, we must go through it; we must allow those emotions to run their course. And we must remember that emotions are energy.

And, when we lose someone we love, we can narrow our definition of grief even further because grief is inextricably tied to love. Grief is evidence of love. Grief is that feeling we get when we reach out for a special person when we need them the most, only to find that they’re no longer there. Grief is that love for someone special with nowhere left to go.

Or, as Vision so eloquently puts it: “what is grief, if not love persevering?”

Our relationship with our loved one doesn’t end. It just changes. Our relationship doesn’t end because our love doesn’t end. And grief is the outworking of that love with nowhere left to go; it is our emotions trying to work themselves out. Grief is us trying to make sense of what do with that love since its object is gone, and how to work through the resulting emotions.

I am thankful that a show with such a large platform is willing to openly wrestle with grief. It is something we will all go through, but it is something our culture doesn’t talk about. We don’t know what to say to someone grieving, and their outpour of emotion, so we either try to avoid them, offer empty platitudes, offer them a “fix,” or decide that it’s a good time to talk about ourselves. But if grief is the outworking of love, then certainly we can love each other enough to create safe spaces for one another to work through our grief.

WandaVision reminds us that we are not alone in our grief; and forces us each to ask what lengths we would go to had we the powers. Thankfully, WandaVision has helped bring this discussion to the light. Now it’s up to us to continue the conversation.

The Conflicting Emotions Of Grief

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As part of my role as a Bereavement Counselor, I have a list of people that I regularly keep in contact with. We start out with weekly phone calls and gradually taper off. I am not there to tell people how to grieve. These weekly phone calls are precious times to check in with people grieving the loss of a loved one. And I often start each weekly conversation in a similar fashion: I’ll ask about how you’re eating and sleeping, how’s your support system, and; where you’re at emotionally this week.

Grief is an emotional process. It is that love for someone special with nowhere left to go. Its object has been removed. The Muse is gone. Grief and love are interconnected and grief is not a problem to be solved, but a process to go through.

However, our culture does not equip us to really face and deal with our emotions. Somewhere along the way, many of us have picked up the idea that openly displaying our emotions is somehow a sign of weakness. I’ve got to be strong for others usually means shutting down our emotions, or only allowing them the freedom flow when we’re alone. Vulnerability is seen as weakness, but if you believe that crap, I suggest you just go read some Brené Brown.

And it’s not just that we’re taught to bottle up our emotions (which are energy, by the way), it’s that we are often not well equipped to even identify, much less respond to our emotions. That’s why I regularly ask people where they’re at emotionally this week. I encourage them to use feeling words and actually identify the emotions running through them.

One surprising realization for many people is that they are actually feeling conflicting emotions at the same time. They are angry and relieved. They are sad but hopeful. They are grieving but joyful. All at the same time. We contain multitudes. But we’re not taught how to navigate such deep waters.

Grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change.

For man people, grief is evidence of love; it is that love for someone special with nowhere left to go.

Grief is not a problem to be solved but a process to go through.

Grief is an emotional process.

And grief contains conflicting emotions at the same time.

Such turbulent waters require growing in self-awareness and practicing grace. We are often our own worst critics and that’s where things like timelines enter the grieving process for many. Why am I not further along? So we compare ourselves to others or judge or progress instead of letting the conflicting emotions inside of us unweave themselves from one another. Grief requires emotional situational awareness and the willingness to let go of understanding and let our emotions play themselves out. This is a painful process but we must accept that we can have conflicting emotions running through us at the same time.

Understanding that grief can contain conflicting emotions at the same time can also help us understand why it is that grief is both universal but unique. No one goes through grief in the same way because no one has the same story; no one has the same gumbo of emotional history.

So let’s give ourselves and one another some grace along the way.

I Can't Tell You How To Grieve, But I Can Be There With You

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One of the most difficult parts of my role as a Bereavement Counselor for a large hospice is when people ask me for advice. Somewhere along the line, many of us picked up the idea that there are certain steps that we can go through (this is likely due to the wide use of Kübler-Ross’ Five Stages of Grief). Though, I think much of the problem is that we believe that grief is a problem to be fixed.

Grief is not a problem to be solved, but a process we must go through.

In its grandest sense, grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change. You can grieve the loss of a job. You can grieve a divorce. You can grieve the pandemic. The problem we run into is that grief is both universal and unique. It is something each and everyone of us will face in life but no one processes grief in the same way.

The grief I most hear about in my work as a Bereavement Counselor is the loss of a loved one. In these cases, I think we can narrow our definition of grief to something like: Grief is evidence of love, or even more specifically: grief is love for someone special with nowhere left to go. Grief and love are inextricably woven together.

And since love is the source of grief, grief is an emotional process, not an intellectual one. It is not something we can think our way through; there are no steps to follow. We must allow our emotions to run their course. And since grief is love working itself out; grief is an emotional process:

  • There is no timeline. (if there is, it’s coming from you)

  • There is no comparison. (If there is, it’s coming from you).

Grief is universal and unique. It is something we all go through, but no one goes through in the same way. I know you want to know the next steps. I know you want to know when things will change. But I can’t tell you those things. The best I can do is walk through the valley of the shadow of death with you. I can companion you and I can watch for signs of unhealthy emotional processing, but I can’t tell you how to grieve.

For many of us, grief is also the process of self-discovery. Since grief love is the source of grief, and much of our self-identity is tied to our closest relationships, when we lose that someone, we lose part of ourselves. We must rediscover (recreate?) who we are now. Who are we without our person? I can’t answer that question for you. But I can walk through the valley of discovery with you.

I can’t tell you how to grieve. But I hope you fine someone who is willing to walk through it with you.

Sitting With The Brokenness (More About Grief, Kintsugi and The Art of Precious Scars)

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In 2019, I began exploring the idea of using Japanese art of Kintsugi as a metaphor for the grieving process.

At that time, I was serving as a Hospice Chaplain/Bereavement Coordinator/Volunteer Coordinator at a small hospice. Part of my job was offering ongoing grief support for the Bereaved. Much of the curriculum that I came across was either trademarked, overly religious for the groups I was leading, or just full of empty platitudes. So I started creating some conversation-starters for support groups on my own.

Somewhere during this time, I learned about the Japanese art of Kintsugi, sometimes known as “the art of precious scars.” If you’re not familiar with Kintsugi, you can read my original post or Google Kintsugi yourself.

Somewhere during this time I also began working through the idea that we must explore what it means to carry our losses forward with us in life in emotionally healthy ways. Kintsugi is a perfect metaphor for this. The mended pieces are beautiful because of their journey through brokenness.

Since that time, I have transitioned to serving as a full-time Bereavement Counselor for a large hospice. Day after day I talk to people trying to work through the grieving process. I have talked to hundreds, if not thousands of people fumbling their way through the loss of a loved one.

And I keep coming back to the idea of Kintsugi being a perfect metaphor for what it might look like to carry our loss forward with us in emotionally healthy ways. I am reminded of a quote by Anne Roiphe: “Grief comes in two parts: the first is the loss, and the second is the re-making of life.”

I can’t remember where I came across a description of the process a Kintsugi master might go through when someone would bring a broken piece to them. They would spread the broken pieces out on a blanket and sit in front of them. They would just sit with the brokenness.

This feels unnatural. We want to hide our brokenness. We want to fix it. But grief is not a problem to be fixed. It is a process to go through. If grief is love for someone with nowhere left to go, then it is not a problem to be fixed. It’s natural to mourn and cry out that this isn’t the way things are supposed to be; to admit that things feel broken.

Grief comes in two parts: the loss and the re-making of life.

And when those Kintsugi masters would sit with the broken pieces, they were not just sitting with the brokenness, they would pick up the pieces, and feel them; trace the edges, and they would begin to envision what the piece might look like after it’s mended. How its brokenness would become part of its story in beautiful ways.

As we acknowledge our loss and brokenness, we must learn to not dwell on the past (the loss); we acknowledge it and its pain, but we set our sights towards an emotionally healthy future (the re-making of life.). This will look different for everyone but I believe that kintsugi can help us understand what it might look like to carry our loss forward with us in emotionally healthy ways.


  • Read the preface piece to this post: Grief, Kintsugi and The Art of Precious Scars


Megan Devine: "How do you help a grieving friend?"

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Back in September of 2020, I posted a short video on the difference between sympathy and empathy by Brené Brown. That video has helped me tremendously in my work as a Bereavement Counselor.

The other day, my wife bought me the book It’s OK That You’re Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn’t Understand at a garage sale. I had not heard of Devine previously, but it looked like a helpful book for my line of work. After looking in to Devine some, I came across a video similar to Brown’s and just as helpful: “How do you help a grieving friend?”

From the video’s Youtube page:

“It's so hard to know what to do when your friends are hurting. The thing is, you can't cheer someone up by telling them to look on the bright side, or by giving them advice. It just doesn't work. Watch this video to learn the one thing that will improve all of your "I'm here for you" intentions, and be that supportive friend you most want to be.”


  • Visit the Refuge In Grief website

  • Follow Megan Devine at Twitter

  • Purchase It's OK That You're Not OK (Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn't Understand) by Megan Devine at Amazon




My Transition From Pastor To Chaplain

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One of the things that often frustrated me about pastoring was that so many people expected me to be the “Answer Man.” People were often frustrated with me because it is not natural for me to give people step-by-step instructions to spiritual growth. I get it, but I also don’t think that’s who the Bible works but maybe that’s a post for another time.

After resigning from professional local church ministry, I gradually found my way in to the Chaplaincy world. I have served as a Hospice Chaplain, a Hospital Chaplain Intern, and now as a Bereavement Counselor. Career transitions can often be difficult, but one of the refreshing things about this change (at least for me) has been understanding the difference between serving as a Local Pastor and as a Chaplain.

Of course everyone does things differently, but most of the Chaplains that I have been privileged to work with understand this distinction. Pastors are long-term. Pastors are expected to have answers. Pastors are often expected to “fix it.” Chaplaincy is (usually) short-term. Chaplaincy is Triage. Chaplains are Interventionists. But I am not there for you in the long-term. It’s not that I don’t want to be, that’s just not my role; though, of course my role as Bereavement Counselor allows for more long-term relationships than Hospital or even Hospice Chaplaincy.

Chaplains rarely get the benefit of long-term relationships and therefore must learn to establish trust as soon as possible and in different ways than pastors. Pastors earn trust by repeatedly being there for people. Pastors earn trust by helping people fix their problems. Pastors earn trust by having the answers.

Chaplains earn trust with empathy. Chaplains earn trust by listening. It is not my role to counsel or fix anything for you. It is my job (as my co-worker likes to say), to be “a heart with ears.” If I do my job well, then I will call you about the loss of your mother but you will spend 35 minutes telling me about the conflict with your sister and how that is complicating your grief. If I’ve done my job well, you will feel lighter at the end of our time together. It’s not that I take your burden (because it is not mine to bear); it’s that you’ve spoken troublesome things out loud in a safe space with no judgment. I don’t fully understand it, but this is what we all want. We just want someone to listen; to care.

This has taken me a long time to learn. But the role of Chaplain (or Bereavement Counselor) is different from pastor. It’s my job to create a safe space and let the Bereaved do with it what they will. Pastors (almost always) have an agenda. My only agenda is for you to know that you are not alone. Even if it’s only via phone calls, I am with you on this journey. I’m not telling you where to go, that’s up to you to figure out. I may drop breadcrumbs to more helpful paths along the way, but I will never tell you which path to choose. That’s not my role.

And this is difficult for many Christians to understand. Am I wasting my time with these people because I don’t “preach the Gospel” to them? I don’t tell them that unless “they accept Jesus as their Personal Savior,” then they’re going to burn in hell forever? No, I do not. That’s not my role and it’s not what they need in those moments. They need a friend who will listen as they unload their burden. Again, I do not pick up that burden because that’s not my role; but we do talk about how, as they speak these things to me, they have taken that load out of their pack and they don’t need to carry it with them any more. This is forgiveness, though I do not use that word.

Listening is hard for a lot of us. But I worry that it is extremely difficult for many Christians. We have been radicalized to believe that the Bible is some sort of magic answer book meant to fix every situation if only we can Jesus Juke the people to the right dialogue. Of course this is an over-generalization. But it is one drawn from years of experience in that type of culture.

People want a friend. They want to know you care. They may ask you to fix their problems, but I’m willing to bet that they won’t. Or that if they do, they’ve got some sort of co-dependency thing going on. What if Christians were willing to enter in to another’s pain just to help free them of it? No other agenda.

Part of the reason I say all of this is because I know that there is often a pride element in pastoring and many pastors look down on chaplains (or at least see them as lesser). In many ways, I have been set free by the transition from Pastor to Chaplain. I am not tied to your expectations of me, but I am there to help just the same. And, when given the choice between someone who will listen without judgment or someone who will listen only enough to tell me what to do, I’d rather sit down with the chaplain.

The chaplain helps you find your own identity and path. The pastor tells you which paths will destroy you and makes sure you take the path they think should. Now, please hear me here: I am a Christian. I believe that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. But I do not believe that it is my job to make other people believe the same thing. People come to me at their most vulnerable times; when they most need someone. It would be religious malpractice for me to use such moments for proselytizing. I am careful with my words and I always try to point people towards Love, but people know when you just view them as a project.

This is not to devalue pastors and their role. Some of the most fulfilling moments of my professional life were as a pastor. I believe in the Church and I support pastors. But that was not a role I felt comfortable carrying ad infinitum and I now understand why. I am not what most people expect from a pastor. I’m not the type to give you exact steps to spiritual growth. I did not break sermons up into alliterative bullet points. I tried to honor the Story we were trusted with and invited people into that Story and allowed the Holy Spirit to implicated as God saw fit. This left a lot of people (including myself) frustrated.

It is my hope and desire that all Christians allow themselves to learn, to grow, and to change. Sanctification is also the process of self-discovery and personal growth. The transition from Pastor to Chaplain has allowed me to reflect on my strengths, my weaknesses, and how I want to best spend my professional life caring for others. And the next time you have a problem, I want you to ask yourself: Do you want someone to fix it or just be there with you and listen?

The Societal Grief of COVID

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These are heavy times.

The West Coast is on fire. Pandemic rages and cruel incompetence rules the nation. Violent far-Right white supremacists are the greatest local terrorist threat to our country. People are losing jobs, their homes, and even their families as Coronavirus reaps its deadly harvest. COVID has wreaked havoc on “social norms.” Schools are closed. Sports are gone. Church has been limited. No concerts. And it feels like we’re being ripped apart at the seams. Isolation hangs in the air with the ashes and anger seems to have spread nearly as fast as COVID. People are angry for being told they are their brothers’ keeper and need to love their neighbors by wearing a mask and social distancing. People who love their neighbors by wearing masks and social distancing are mad at the people who refuse to do so. Everyone is mad at politics.

In the broadest terms, grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change.

And we have had both. Loss of norms. Loss of customs. Change of schedules. Change of hopes and dreams. We are experiencing societal grief. We are all grieving together and yet separately. Isolation is one of the main complicating factors for most people right now whom I speak with after the death of a loved one. But I think there’s something deeper going on: we as a society have experienced loss on a grand scale, and we are grieving.

For some this manifests itself in depression and hopelessness. Others are consumed by anger. For nearly everyone, emotions are boiling and the kettle feels like its about to burst. That’s because grief is an emotional process, and emotions are energy. That energy must find release in healthy ways or bad things happen and I worry that that is exactly what is happening.

I don’t know what this means for an entire society but if you were one of my grievers, I would suggest that you learn more about yourself and what your healthy outlets might be. But to a whole country, I don’t know what to say except that grief does not produce new feelings; it amplifies what’s already there. If you had conflicted feelings about your mother before she died, you’re going to be conflicted after her death.

If you weren’t happy with your country in the first place; societal loss and grief are only going to exacerbate those feelings. The fact that tensions are where they are right now is not because of our grief; our grief has simply amplified what was already there. We are not a healthy society; nor are we a society that seeks to help all, even though that’s our tagline. Instead, we are an unjust society that favors whites and the rich and our entire system is designed for that. Which is exactly what it produces. Our justice system is unjust and our top officials are criminals.

If you were one of my grievers, we might talk about Kintsugi or how to hold a positive vision of the future in your mind so that you can incorporate your loss in healthy ways. But what how we help heal an entire culture?

It may sound trite, but remember that everyone you meet is struggling. Most people are not emotionally healthy right now. Whether it be COVID or injustice or both. With the president threatening to throw out ballots, there might not be much we can do at an institutional level, but at the local level; be a friend. Listen to someone without trying to fix them (this will be especially difficult for Christians who feel their only job it to get souls in to heaven). Just be there with them in their brokenness. Be the friend you would need during such times. Maybe this will attitude will spread.

We might not be able to cure COVID or Systemic Racism overnight, but we can be there for one another in our grief.

Of STUGS And STERBS

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Everyone is unique. And everyone grieves differently. If someone tells you that they know exactly what you’re going through, they don’t. If someone tells you that they can’t imagine what you’re going through, that might not be terribly helpful, but it’s at least true.

While it is true that no one processes loss (grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change) the same, in my role as a Hospice Bereavement Counselor, I do come across lots of people with similar experiences.

One of the familiar themes I come across is people who describe grief as feeling as though it comes and goes, almost like the waves of the ocean. Sometimes you might feel the wave coming before it hits you while others you feel blindsided as the grief floods your soul. And we don’t always know what triggers one of these unexpected onsets of grief and sadness. Sometimes it might be hearing a song on the radio, a particular place or smell. Other times it’s as if we’ve been unexpectedly hockey-checked right in to the boards.

It must be noted that these “waves” are not the same thing as grief in general and that not everyone will experience them. But I’ve talked to enough people to understand that enough people experience these waves that we need to talk about them. Believe it or not, there is a technical term for these unexpected onsets of intense grief. We call them Sudden Temporary Upsurges of Grief, or S.T.U.G.s for short.

Part of the grieving process is growing in self-awareness. We are wise to examine ourselves and how we process difficult emotions. What is helpful for us? Are there certain songs that were important to you and your loved one? Movies? Places? Foods? Understanding such “triggers” will not prevent STUGs, but they will help you prepare for when they come. And this is important because, it is these STUGs which can be so raw and painful that we often turn to S.T.E.R.B.s (yes, another acronym).

The Grief Recovery Institute defines STERBs as: “Short Term Energy Relieving Behaviors. They are activities you use to distract yourself from painful feelings that follow a major loss.” The first thing to understand is why they are called Short Term Energy Relieving Behaviors rather than “Emotion” relieving behaviors. The answer is because grief is emotional and emotions are energy. As John Lydon might say: “Anger is an Energy.” As we experience a wide range and intensity of emotions, we have physical effects. Some people will feel anxious, others tired, etc. We don’t know what to do with all that energy and quite frankly, we want to get rid of it/calm it/ignore it/whatever we can. So we turn to certain behaviors to try to cope with all these energies wreaking havoc on our bodies and psyches.

We call these responses STERBs. These are (short-term) attempts to distract ourselves from our grief. They might be the desire to numb ourselves, or to just “check out”. There is no comprehensive list of STERBs because, just as everyone grieves uniquely, everyone tries to cope differently. Some people will turn to sex, alcohol, drugs, video games, the internet, exercise, shopping, hoarding, gambling, workaholism, isolation, eating/starving, etc.

We turn to STERBs because we believe that they are helping us recover from our grief. But, when we’re honest with ourselves, they do not make us feel better. They just make us feel different. Yes, they might distract us for a bit. They might even numb our pain for a bit. But, just like STUGs are “temporary,” STERBs are “short-term.” They do not help us move through, process, or recover from our grief, they simply postpone the process.

Just as growing in self-awareness can help us prepare for STUGs, growing in self-awareness can also help us face our loss (which must happen to move through grief in an emotionally healthy way: Read my piece: “Grief: When You Come To This Trench, Swim Through It, Not Over It”) rather than turn to STERBs.

Grief forces us to be honest with ourselves. Grief forces us to know ourselves better. And, knowing that grief is something we will all face, maybe it’s best if we all started thinking about ourselves now. Am I the type to try and distract myself from difficult things with business? Am I the type of person who tries to numb difficult emotions? Knowing such things about one’s self in the here and now will not only help us when waves of grief crash over us but the next time we hit an emotional speed-bump.

Brené Brown on Empathy

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I am currently enrolled in my second unit of Clinical Pastoral Education. In this unit, each student is asked to provide a “centering” opening to each gathering. One week, one of my fellow cohort members opened our gathering with a short video from Brené Brown on Empathy.

I love most things I’ve read/heard/seen from Brené Brown but I had not seen this short video yet.

And it has stuck with me so much that I want you to see it if you haven’t yet and I want to hear your thoughts if you have.

From the video’s Youtube page:

“What is the best way to ease someone's pain and suffering? In this beautifully animated RSA Short, Dr Brené Brown reminds us that we can only create a genuine empathic connection if we are brave enough to really get in touch with our own fragilities.”

Credits:

  • Voice: Dr Brené Brown

  • Animation: Katy Davis (AKA Gobblynne) www.gobblynne.com

  • Production and Editing: Al Francis-Sears and Abi Stephenson

Other Information:

  • Watch Dr Brené Brown's full talk 'The Power of Vulnerability' here.

Dr Brené Brown is a research professor and best-selling author of "Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent and Lead" (Penguin Portfolio, 2013).

She has spent the past decade studying vulnerability, courage, worthiness, and shame.



Hospice Is A Philosophy Of Care, Not A Company

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I was able to spend several years as a hospice chaplain before entering my current role as a hospice bereavement counselor. I am a bereavement counselor for a hospice. Most of the people I speak with have lost loved ones who used our hospice services. And even after all of that, many people are still unsure of what “Hospice” is and is not.

Hospice is philosophy of care for end of life.

Despite the common misperception, hospice is not a specific company. Hospice is a philosophy of care for end of life. The Banner Hospice website says:

“Hospice is a philosophy of care that provides specialized health care for people nearing the end of their life. If you have a terminal illness or, have decided not to pursue further curative care, and want to focus on comfort and quality of life, hospice care may be right for you. Banner Hospice provides symptom management with a focus on dignity, as well as support services for you and your family.”

The term “hospice” stems back to medieval times when it described a place of shelter and rest for weary or sick travelers on long journeys. Along the way, the term came to refer to humane and compassionate care given to people in the final phases of a terminal illness (given in a variety of settings; homes; hospitals; care facilities).

In 1967, Dr. Cicely Saunders founded St. Christopher’s Hospice in England; the first of its kind specifically to focus attention on the care of terminally ill persons and their families. Among the first staff at St. Christopher’s was an American nurse named Florence Wald, who brought Saunders’ philosophies back to the United States to become the founder of the hospice movement in the United States.

In 1971 Robert Twycross was appointed as a Clinical Research Fellow by Saunders. During his tenure there, his studies on the effectiveness of morphine, diamorphine and methadone helped standardize and simplify the management of cancer pain.

The hospice movement gained momentum in the United States through the work of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and the founding of the first Hospice Home Care Program on New Haven, CT in 1974.

In 1986, Congress made permanent the Medicare Hospice Benefit and the various States were allowed to decide whether they wanted to include hospice in their Medicaid programs. According to the latest statistics available from the Hospice Association of America and the National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization: More than 5,300 hospices participate in the Medicare program in the U.S.

Hospice is a philosophy of caring for dying patients and their families that recognizes that death is a part of the life cycle and that every person has the right to die with dignity, peace, and comfort. Hospice is a “not a place; it is a concept of care for those who have life-terminating illnesses. Even if medicine cannot provide a cure, hospice can offer comfort, care, and assistance, to help maintain quality of life, even if we can’t lengthen quantity of days. Hospice affirms life and neither postpones nor hastens death; (though treatment for the primary diagnosis does stop) it exists so that patients and their families might be free to attain a measure of mental and spiritual readiness for death that is satisfactory to them.

If that’s hospice, what is palliative care?

Palliative care is an interdisciplinary approach to specialized medical and nursing care for people with life-limiting illnesses. It focuses on providing relief from the symptoms, pain, physical stress, and mental stress at any stage of illness.

All hospice care is palliative care but not all palliative care is hospice care.

“Palliative care” can begin at diagnosis, and/or at the same time as treatment. Hospice care begins after treatment of the disease is stopped and when it is clear that the person is not going to survive the illness. In other words, there must be a terminal diagnosis for hospice care to begin. Hospice care includes elements of palliative care but its design is to allow the dying process to be as comfortable as possible.

Hospice is end-of-life care for your loved one.

I am privileged to work in Hospice. I get to walk alongside families during what is perhaps the most difficult time of their lives. It is something I believe in deeply and wish more people understood and embraced.

The Complicated Grief of COVID

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I have served in the hospice world for a while now; first as a Hospice Chaplain, then as a Chaplain, Bereavement Coordinator, and Volunteer Coordinator all at the same time before stepping in to my current role as a Bereavement Counselor late last yer.

Throughout it all, I have tried to maintain a tender skin and tough skin. I get to walk alongside strangers in their toughest moments, but as a Bereavement Counselor, my role is only “interventionist”. I am a Bereavement Counselor. My role is to help people through the immediacy of Bereavement. That includes Grief counseling, which I do a lot of, but that not is my primary role. Let me explain how understanding the nuances between grief, bereavement, and mourning can help us help others through the complicated grief of Quarantine.

Grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change. Most often it is something/someone meaningful in our lives (though not necessarily that we love).

Complicated Grief is grief that does not resolve in a healthy way or time-frame. This can include grief long after the loss, but it can also include “complications” in the grieving process itself. The Complicated Grief website compares complicated grief to getting an infection after a wound:

“You can think of healing after loss as analogous to healing after a physical wound. The loss, like the injury, triggers a pain response which can be very strong. Injuries also activate a healing process. Loss does too. However, a wound complication, like an infection, can interfere with healing. So, too, maladaptive thoughts, dysfunctional behaviors or inadequate emotion regulation can interfere with adaptation to loss.”

During most times, most people will not experience complicated grief and most will not even need a Grief Counselor or long-term counseling. But these are not most times, are they? We are in the middle of a global pandemic which has many not only quarantined but isolated and separated from common mourning practices. As if their loss were not enough to bear, COVID is complicating the grief many people experience.

Without getting too far in to the weeds with definitions, I want to offer this quick outline of ideas:

Bereavement is the act of losing someone/something we have relationship with or attachment to (not necessarily that we love).

Grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change (often including conflicting emotions).

Mourning is the outlet we try to give to our grief. This includes family/religious/cultural memorials and events like funerals, wakes, or even informal things like reminiscing or even crying with others, etc.

As our culture has moved further and further away from a clearly delineated, cultural norm of mourning, grief has often become more complicated. Mourning is the outlet or process we try to give our grief. This often culminates in a memorial/funeral/graveside service, but can include things like mourners (people publicly displaying both their bereavement and grieving) may wear black or subdued colors. Public rituals like flying a flag at half-mast. Some people wear armbands. In some cultures, widows wear black for a long time following the death of a spouse. Some people get tattoos. Some will hold wakes. Some cultures will cut their hair. Some cultures will seclude the bereaved for a period of time. 

All of these are part of the mourning process. They are public displays that we are bereaved (separated from) and that we are grieving. And the fact that they occur publicly is important. After a significant loss, our world is shattered. And, for a time, we are “different” from everyone else. They don’t know what we’re going through. They may have lost someone but every grief is different. And as we learn to accept and incorporate our loss in emotionally healthy ways . . we close the casket . . . we throw the dirt . . . we cry together . . . we grieve and feel the pain of our loss and then, someday, gradually we wear black less often . . . we take the armband off . . . we return from seclusion. And we move back in to community (although this process often takes place with a community along every step); we are “restored.” And we have moved through our grief.

But COVID has shut down most large gatherings. Most people have cancelled or put put funerals on hold. Large memorial gatherings are prohibited. And for the safety of the community, many people are being forced in to complicated grief. In community, or with the appropriate cultural cues, most people grieve appropriately.

Bu without a formal mourning process, we often do not not know how to process our grief. Without the cultural landmarkers of things like “viewing,” “memorial”, “graveside service/burial”, we lose little but key perspectives of time and healing like: “it’s been a week since we all gathered together; remember when Aunt Dottie shared that story none of us had heard before, and remember how hard cousin Bill took it, I didn’t realize he would be affected so much . . . “

Isolation and lack of cultural cues has led to complicated grief for many people. Chances are, someone you know is hurting and processing some type of grief. And chances are, someone you know feels like they have to do it alone. Grief and grieving are things everyone will go through but no one talks about and no one teaches us how to do. Most of us muddle our way through it somehow, but many are trapped in isolation right now. It’s not that they’re not going to make it through, it’s just that it’s going to be more of a slog than it has to be. I don’t know that our culture has yet had time to consider the many ways COVID will affect generations to come.

So, if chances are that someone we know is processing grief alone, then the obvious answer is to love our neighbors and consider others better than ourselves. Pick up the phone. Send an e-mail. Send a hand-written letter. Send a care package. More than anything, let someone know you care. Memento Mori, friend; remember that we too will die. That shadow pushes us to share the light of hope of the Love of God.

Don’t offer advice. Don’t tell them you know what they’re going through (especially if you think you do). Don’t tell them “time heals all wounds” or that they “just need to get over it.” Don’t tell them no to cry. Do not say: “Well, at least you had all the good times” or: “Well, they’re in a better place now”. Do not give them a time-frame and do not judge someone else’s grief by your own experiences.

Listen.

Ask a few questions.

And listen.

That’s all you need to do.

“I’m just calling to check on you and see how you’re doing . . . “

“I hope you don’t me asking, but are you eating and sleeping OK?”

“Have you been able to have any public mourning event?"

“Do you have a support system in place; people you can share with?”

“Where do you find strength for times like this?”

Let the griever guide. You’ve already shown that you care and that you’re willing to be whatever presence they need. If they need to talk, they will. And you’re willing to be present with someone in the midst of their isolation and ask simple questions like the one above and have the patience to listen, you’d likely be surprised how many seeds of hope we can spread.

COVID is having impacts we will not understand for years. I wonder how many people’s complicated grief might lead to other issues down the line and what we can do about it.

Let’s all be good neighbors. We’re all hurting.

Who needs to hear from you today?


The Banner Hospice Dottie Kissinger Bereavement Camp

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This past weekend I had the profound honor of serving at the Banner Hospice The Dottie Kissinger Bereavement Camp For Children in Payson, AZ and I want you to know about this valuable resource.

“The Dottie Kissinger Bereavement Camp is a free community program designed to help children cope with the loss of a loved one.

Children and parents participate in activities that inform, educate and provide opportunities to talk about very difficult aspects of loss. We have helped families who have experienced losses such as grandparents who died from an illness, or sudden accidental deaths of parents or siblings.

The camp is offered three times a year – just outside of Payson, Arizona and is open to the entire community. 

For more information, please call (480) 657-1167.” (from the website)

Watch some informational videos about what happens at these camps.

We have several resources if you are unsure about how to help a child you know through the grieving process. Please contact me or call (480) 657-1167 for more information.

Grief, Kintsugi and The Art of Precious Scars

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I don’t know what it’s like where you live, but I live in a city without a lot of historical context. When buildings get old, we tear them down and put up a Starbucks. But when we lived in Louisville, there were buildings that had been there for a hundred years and people could tell you the story. Part of that is that I live in one of the youngest states in the Union, but part of it is cultural. Some cultures preserve history better. Tradition.

Some cultures hold on to things better than others.

I won’t talk about grief all of the time. But, as a Hospice Chaplain, it is something I deal with every day. Grief can begin long before a loved one’s death and last long after. It is the price we pay for love. It shows that our hearts are alive, despite our mind’s assertions otherwise.

Grief is something we will all experience and yet we will not all grieve the same. This includes how we finally come to grips with our grief and how we view ourselves in relation to grief. Some people try to “just get over it” and try to just get back to life without really allowing themselves to pass through grief. For some people, grief is viewed as just that time of crying when someone died, and now I’m back to life. But for others, it is the result of love and it is evidence of the hole that is now left right in the middle of our lives. It is something that shapes us.

The question becomes whether we identify grief as part of our beautiful story or whether we try to hide it.

In some cultures, we try to hide our scars. Makeup. Clothing. Plastic surgery.

We try to hide our brokenness.

Some people are more comfortable with brokenness than others. Some of us want to sweep it under the rug and keep on pretending that no one trips over the big pile under the middle of the rug.

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer mixed or dusted with gold. Sometimes known as “gold joinery,” “golden seams,” or “gold repair,” this is more than just repair. This method brings new life to pieces by highlighting their brokenness. My Modern says:

Beautiful seams of gold glint in the cracks of ceramic ware, giving a unique appearance to the piece. This repair method celebrates each artifact's unique history by emphasizing its fractures and breaks instead of hiding or disguising them. Kintsugi often makes the repaired piece even more beautiful than the original, revitalizing it with new life.

The practice itself arises from several different Japanese philosophical concepts: 

Wabi-Sabi: seeing beauty in the flawed or imperfect. 

Mottainai: regret when something is wasted

Mushin: the acceptance of change 

and

“As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise . . . Not only is there no attempt to hide the damage, but the repair is literally illuminated” (Wikipedia)

What if we treated grief as something not just to “get through” or to bury but understood it as part of life and as part of our beautiful stories? What if we all believed that our stories were beautiful? Kintsugi helps us see how brokenness can be beautiful. But what if we believed it about ourselves?

None of this makes grief easier or diminishes its weight. But I hope it helps give us the perspective that it is part of what makes each one of us so unique. No piece of Kintsugi are the same. No two people are the same. And it is our grief that helps shape us.


  • Read my follow-up piece Sitting With The Brokenness (More About Grief, Kintsugi and The Art of Precious Scars).


Grief: What to Expect (the unexpected).

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One of the beautifully mysterious, confounding, and yet comforting things about life is that everyone is different. And yet, how often we forget this. We marvel at snowflakes and ignore other people as though they weren’t walking miracles themselves. We inspect and catalog plant species, marveling at their differences while flattening out humanity into cardboard caricatures.

Though “Grief is the natural response to loss or change” and “the price we pay for love,” and everyone grieves, not everyone grieves the same. And grief is more than a simple emotional response to loss. It is a physiological reaction that may differ from person to person. Some people may want to sleep all the time while others won’t be able to sleep. Some will lose their appetites while others will find comfort in food. Some people will need silence and time alone to process while others will find it more helpful to be in crowds and around people. Some people will have guilt or anger while others have only sorrow. None of these is “right” or “wrong,” they are just the different ways people move through grief.

We need to stop trying to prescribe how everyone will do everything. For a religion that claims to be for people who don’t have it all together, Christians often try to pretend that we have it all together. And that we can tell everyone else how to do things. We hold financial seminars telling people how to deal with their money, we have conferences about parenting and marriage. But the truth of the matter is that cultural statistics, bankruptcies, divorces, etc. are not all that different for those who claim to be Christian and those who do not. I’m not saying God’s Word does not have helpful things to say about all of these topics, including grieving, but I am saying that we need to stop telling people how long or how they should grieve.

One of the questions I am most often asked is: How long will my grief last?

I don’t know. How long did you love that person? You will never forget them, so in a sense, grief never ends. I know most people don’t want to hear that; that grief never ends. But it does change. It will not always feel like we’re gasping for air in the belly of the best. But grieving is the process of admitting and accepting our loss and finding the “new normal.” Things go on. Even without the ones we love. There are still bills to pay, mouths to feed, yards, to mow, dishes to do. Only now, we must face them alone.

If grief truly is the price we pay for love, then grief is also the process of discovering life after loss. There will be tears, there will be sorrow, there will be loneliness, anger but there is also the simple process of being changed by our loss. Grief is the redefinition of who we are in relation to what we’ve lost.

If I’m saying anything at all (and believe me, there is much more that I want to say beyond this post), it’s that I would love to see the Church make more space for lament. I would love to see Christians move beyond prescribed 1,2,3 step programs for everything and I would love to see Christians move beyond trite-isms and embrace the grieving process as an essential part of life.

As with yesterday’s post, I very much would like discussion. What has your experience with grief been? How has it shaped you? What was helpful? What was not? What would you like others to know?



What Is Grief? And How Can I Learn To Be Thankful For It?

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It has been said that the only sure things in life are death and taxes.

I think we should add grief to that list.

Live long enough and you will experience grief.

And yet, even though we will all experience grief, it is one of those things that no one likes to talk about, much less consider. As such, there is not always a consensus about what grief actually is. It’s troublesome that we don’t talk more openly about something we all face and it’s even more troublesome that many of us are unable to define such a common experience. One of the first things I do is just try to write out a couple of different perspectives. When I began counseling people through grief as a Hospice Chaplain, one of the first things I did was piece together some basic definitions and try to distill them down to as few words as possible:

Deep sorrow, sadness and a mix of other emotions, especially caused by someone’s death.

Grief is the conflicting feelings, possibly including relief resultant guilt, caused by the end of or change in something familiar.

Grief is the normal/natural emotional reaction to loss or change of any kind.

Grief is the natural response to loss or change.

Grief is the natural response to loss or change. This seems like a pretty fair and straightforward definition which also accounts for the fact that grief will not look the same for everyone.

I don’t know how you begin to think about such topics, but once I narrow down a definition into my own fewest words as possible, I like to look at other people’s words. I like to look at quotes. They’re like different sides of a prism. Since everyone is different and, no one grieves the same (though there will be similarities), understanding how other people process grief can help us process grief ourselves.

“Grief is never something you get over. You don't wake up one morning and say, 'I've conquered that; now I'm moving on.' It's something that walks beside you every day. And if you can learn how to manage it and honour the person that you miss, you can take something that is incredibly sad and have some form of positivity.” (Terry Irwin)

“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” (Anne Lamott)

“the way I think about grief is that it is the great tug-of-war, and sometimes the flag is on the side you don’t want it to be on. And sometimes the game has exhausted all of its joy, and all that’s left is you on your knees. But, today, even though I am sad, my hands are still on the rope.” (Hanif Abdurraqib)

“Every one can master a grief but he that has it.” - (William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing)

“Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.” (Anne Roiphe)

“Grief is the price we pay for love.” (Queen Elizabeth II)

Every once in a while, you come across a quote that just stops you in your tracks. Grief is the price we pay for love.

Everyone wants love but no one wants to grieve. Grief is the price we pay for love. No one wants to think of love as a trade-off; and it’s not really, not in the strictest sense. But grief reminds us that we care. Grief reminds us that our feelings are alive and that, we are still in touch with life; with relationships; with thankfulness. Grief is proof that we are human.

Grief is the result of losing something that was important to us; a job, a spouse, a position in life, a loved one; whatever it is. Grief is the act of trying to adjust to the “new normal” after a loss. Grief is the process of moving on with life when we don’t want to.

It does not mean forgetting what we’ve lost.

It is far too common to hear people say things like: “You’ve just got to move on.” This is not helpful or true and I may explore why in future posts, but for now, let me just say that grief is one of those things that must not simply be faced but embraced in order to move forward. It must be passed through.

Of course it changes us, and that’s part of the point.

I hope to write more about the idea of grief and the process of recovery, but for now, I’d love your thoughts. Have you experienced grief? How would you define grief? How did you move through it (or did you?)? Did it change you? What did you learn?