Grief

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...

The Frogs

 

CHARON. Now stretch your arms full length before you.  


DIONYSUS. So? 


CHAR.  Come, don’t keep fooling; plant your feet, and now 

Pull with a will.  


DIO. Why, how am I to pull? I’m not an oarsman, seaman, 

Salaminian. I can’t!  


CHAR. You can. Just dip your oar in once, You’ll hear the loveliest timing songs.  


DIO. What from? 


CHAR.  Frog-swans, most wonderful.  


DIO. Then give the word. 


CHAR.  Heave ahoy! heave ahoy! 


FROGS.  Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax! Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax! 

We children of the fountain and the lake, 

Let us wake 

Our full choir-shout, as the flutes are ringing out, 

Our symphony of clear-voiced song. 

The song we used to love, in the 

Marshland up above, In praise of 

Dionysus to produce, 

Of Nysaean Dionysus, son of Zeus, 

When the revel-tipsy throng, all crapulous and gay, 

To our precinct reeled along on the holy Pitcher day. 

Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax. 


DIO.  O, dear! O, dear! now I declare I’ve got a bump upon my rump. 


FR.  Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.


— Aristophanes (c.448 B.C.–c.388 B.C.).  “The Frogs” in The Harvard Classics

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