Grief

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Sometimes the news comes quick. Sometimes the news comes slow. No matter how or when it comes, grief travels in the wake of the news. Grief is heavy, weighty, a burden, especially when it involves someone deeply loved. Grief is not meant to be carried alone. It’s too heavy and may last a while—and that’s ok. That’s what family and friends are for, to share the load. Jesus stood outside the tomb of his friend and wept but He did not weep alone. It was a deep, human moment. “ Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted ” (Matt 5:4). If anyone knows how we feel in grief, it’s Him. But His grief did not linger long, as at the mention of his name, Lazarus came forth. We are not meant to dwell in grief, but should leave room enough for it. Let it run its course. Like the song says, “ Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain .” Another song says, “ The storm We will dance as it breaks The storm It will give as it takes And all of our pain is washed away Don't cry or be afraid Some things...

Practicing How To Die

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credit: blogilates
"But I have been consigned, so to speak, to one special ailment. I do not know why I should call it by its Greek name; for it is well enough described as “shortness of breath.” Its attack is of very brief duration, like that of a squall at sea; it usually ends within an hour. Who indeed could breathe his last for long? I have passed through all the ills and dangers of the flesh; but nothing seems to me more troublesome than this. And naturally so; for anything else may be called illness; but this is a sort of continued 'last gasp.' Hence physicians call it 'practicing how to die.'” (Seneca, Letter 64)

" . . . if I must suffer illness, I shall desire that I may do nothing which shows lack of restraint, and nothing that is unmanly. The conclusion is, not that hardships are desirable, but that virtue is desirable, which enables us patiently to endure hardships." (Seneca, Letter 67)

Seneca maintains a disarming sense of humor that helps us not to overwhelmed with being overly serious. Presently, I feel like I'm breathing underwater and have zero energy. Staying awake is not a priority yet each time I manage a period of consciousness Seneca's letters come to mind. 

One thought I can manage is that nobody wants to be sick, but one can use illness to his or her advantage--preparing for other kinds of hardship, even "practicing how to die." Sounds morbid especially in times when one actually says "just let me die" under the weight of whatever malady ails them--but that's just it. If you were dying, would you want to go out like that? Or with strength and goodness to those around you? 

Live each day as if it were your last and let illness help you learn what it will teach you. 

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