“For now we weep… but, just for now.”

two cups of hot tea

 

I sat, weeping.  Tears streamed down my face with tissue after tissue wiping an endless well of sadness.

In the intimacy of a private room, I sat with a trusted friend. At times, my tears were silent. Other times, the tears were accompanied by short disjointed phrases of disconnected memories.

I had lost so much after my husband’s death.  We had built a life together over thirty years of marriage — raising children, sharing leadership within the church, reading many of the same books, teaching and challenging each other into wholeness. Together, we had discovered the ease of living side by side with mutual understanding and caring. Now, I was alone in the melancholy of a grieving heart.

Other endings followed. Selling the home we loved.  Giving away treasures to simplify my life.  Moving to a new town. Finding new friends.  Changing my life  once defined as “us” to one of  “me”.

Walled within this grief, I discovered one gift – the presence of my friend Michaela.  She came to visit often. Though she seldom spoke, she sat alongside me, listening from her heart, fully present.

Michaela made numerous cups of tea and drank its soothing warmth beside me reaffirming my resilience. Within this place of trusted comfort, the grief lifted to the heavens like the steam from the hot tea we held in our hands.  This cup and her presence became a solid grip on reality.

In time, hope began to accompany the vapor upward. The tears released the toxins of mourning creating a renewed space for a new boldness. To what I did not know. Yet I began to trust the new which lie ahead as my tears cleansed my soul.

Michaela taught me that grief tears require safe places and safe ears.  When sorrow is shared with another, it can be transformed.  The compassion of non-judgmental presence becomes the womb of hope.

“If you want to change things,” Michaela reminded me later when I had a more clear-eyed understanding, “you have to begin with sadness. These weary tears water the seeds of hope.”

 

 I wonder, when has the gift of shared sadness created an avenue for a new start?