Reverend Coles: Loss And Grief

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Post on Nov 27, 2024

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Reverend Coles: Loss and Grief - Navigating the Uncharted Waters of Sorrow

Hey everyone, Reverend Coles here. Let's talk about something heavy, something we all grapple with at some point: loss and grief. It's not exactly Sunday sermon material, but it's real life, and I've been wrestling with it lately. This isn't some clinical, textbook approach; it's straight from the heart – my heart, which has been pretty darn bruised these past few months.

My Personal Journey with Grief

I've spent years offering comfort to others, guiding them through their darkest hours. I’ve led countless funerals, whispered prayers for the grieving, and offered words of hope to those shattered by loss. I thought I understood grief. Boy, was I wrong.

A few months ago, I lost my own mother. Suddenly, all the theological training, all the pastoral care experience… it felt utterly inadequate. The pain was visceral, a raw, physical ache that defied explanation. It felt like someone had ripped a hole right through my chest.

I’d spent so long helping others navigate grief that I hadn’t prepared myself for the tsunami that hit me. I fell apart. The coping mechanisms I’d suggested to others felt completely useless. I stumbled, I cried, I felt utterly lost. There were days I just couldn't get out of bed. It was humbling, to say the least. And terrifying.

This is something I wish I'd addressed better in my earlier sermons on grief and loss. I'd focused on the stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance – the Kübler-Ross model. While helpful, it felt... too clinical for the messiness of my own emotions.

What I Learned (The Hard Way)

1. Grief is messy. Period. There’s no neat, linear progression. Some days I'm okay, other days I'm a sobbing mess. And that’s okay. Don't beat yourself up for not following some prescribed timetable. It’s your journey, your pain.

2. Allow yourself to feel. Don't try to suppress your emotions. Let yourself cry, scream, rage—whatever you need to do to process your grief. Bottling it up only makes it worse. Trust me on this one.

3. Seek support. This was HUGE for me. Talking to friends, family, and even my own therapist helped me immensely. Don't isolate yourself. Reach out. Let people help you. This includes your community and other clergy members. You're not alone.

4. Be kind to yourself. Grief is exhausting. Be patient and forgiving. You're going through a difficult time, so cut yourself some slack. I know it's easier said than done, but truly, be kind.

5. Remember the good times. Focusing on the positive memories you have is vital. Remembering my mother’s smile, her laughter, her incredible cooking – those memories are a lifeline. It's okay to celebrate those positive memories. This is part of the healing process. That's important to understand.

Finding Hope Amidst the Sorrow

Grief is a journey, not a destination. There will be good days and bad days. There will be moments of unbearable sadness, and moments of unexpected peace. Allow yourself to feel it all. Lean on your support system, and remember that even in the darkest of times, hope remains.

My journey continues. This whole experience has completely reshaped my understanding of grief and loss. It's made me a better pastor, a better friend, and a better human being. It hasn't been easy. There were times I truly wondered if I’d ever feel whole again. But I am slowly healing, and I hope my story provides some comfort to you.