I know it will be there. So, each month, on the 14th, I look for it.
That "
it" is an e-mail from a friend, reminding me that she's praying for me, that she hasn't forgotten this is the date my Dad died.
It's three months today. It feels like just yesterday. It feels like so long ago.
My friend remembers the anniversary and gives me good words.
It's virtual hand holding. It's the gift of prayer. It's loving one another as Christ loves us.
Those first days of any kind of loss or grief or pain move us to pledge amazing things.
We're going to nurture our relationships.
We're going to lift others up and encourage.
We're going to be there when needed or just when wanted.
But time passes. New commitments or problems emerge, and our resolve is spent putting out fires instead of nurturing the flame of our relationships. We slip into the old patterns of self-centeredness.
What seemed so important in the midst of our grief has lost its power and influence.
When I talked to my Mom the other day, she shared her heart, her pain.
"Everyone says they'll be there for you. But after the first month, they live as though nothing ever happened."
It's not that we're to be stagnant in our grief. We have victory in Jesus. He is our hope, and by His grace, we press forward and run this race.
But our God also encourages us to remember, and when we remember one another's losses, one another's griefs, those days that mark how our lives forever changed, we also remember God's deliverance and His provision.
We honor the one we're loving while they're living, and most of all, we honor Him.
It's only from walking through this dark path myself that I've learned the significance of remembering. I've been terribly guilty of forgetting. Terribly.
As a young child, I would watch my Mama grieve on the anniversary of her Mom's death. I didn't quite get it. But now I do. I wish I had gotten it then so I could have offered her even a sliver of comfort.
What's to be remembered? It's different for all of us.
The loss of a child.
The death of a spouse.
The date of a divorce.
The start of an empty nest.
The diagnosis of cancer or another disease.
How long do we remember? That depends on the person and the circumstances. God gives us wisdom in this, too. Often the first year is the hardest, so that's a good time to remember at least monthly. And in between.
I have another friend who checks on me often, making sure I'm ok, asking how she can pray for me. She's sensitive to my silence and tenderhearted towards my crazy moods.
After the first year? At least on the anniversary date.
How do we remember? A card. An e-mail. A gift. A lunch date. An act of service. Flowers. A hug, extra tight and ready for tears. And always, with prayer.
What do we remember? We remember the beauty of a person's life. We remember the precious moments of fellowship. We remember how life has changed for the one who is grieving. We share memories.
Most of all, we point to God's provision.
"Look, my dear one, how God has sustained us in this trial. Look how we've grown as time has passed. Look how He's not failed us. Look how He's provided in ways we couldn't have imagined."
If you have those in your life who remember with you, let them know how grateful you are. If you need to do some remembering with a loved one, get to it. If you've been forgotten, guard against bitterness and resentment and look to the One who knows your suffering more than anyone.
Look to Jesus.
With love,