DEATH — REBIRTH — TRANSFORMATION
These are some of my favorite passages in “Love, Loss, Light: Illuminating the Path Through Grief” by Karen Trench
— Like you, I have made decisions that required a certain amount of courage—important decisions made at critical junctures that have steered the course of my life. Those were the times when I voluntarily walked to the cliff’s edge, looked over, and with little or no trepidation, jumped— confident of a safe landing. When I was in control of my own choices, taking that leap of faith into the unknown tended to be easier. Plus, I had a firm understanding and appreciation of the transformative powers that resided within each and every big decision I made as my life unfolded.
But I never chose to lose Charlie. That decision was made for me, as the loss of your loved one was made for you. When I did lose him, I didn’t walk fearlessly to the cliff’s edge, look down into the chasm, and leap, with the assurance that I would arrive at the bottom relatively unscathed. Quite the contrary. I arrived at the edge the same way you did: Grief dragged me kicking and screaming, and then, without warning, pushed me.
As I plunged into the abyss, I tried to bargain with God. I offered up apologies, promises, and vows for past, present, and future actions if He would but spare me the agony that I knew awaited when I crash-landed. But He turned a deaf ear and a blind eye, and allowed me to sink deeper and deeper into the pit of my sorrow.
When I hit rock bottom, it wasn’t pretty. Three months after my loss, I returned from the first of several trips to the East Coast to visit my mom and some of my dearest friends. But I was returning to an empty house, and I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear the truth that Charlie would never again be home to greet me with a hug and a kiss. I ran into my garage and sequestered myself in my car to spare our two cats the trauma of hearing me wail, and now I laid across the back seat sobbing in anger and disbelief, until I exhausted myself and my tears ran dry. As I grew quiet, I began to appreciate the profound silence and the feeling of protection and safety that my car afforded me. I curled up in a fetal position and closed my eyes. As I began to doze off, I was struck with a sudden awareness. It was this: Either I could continue to fight against my new reality and remain in a state of incredulity, anger, and disbelief; or I could take my boxing gloves off and attempt to reconcile with the truth that God would not be bartering with me or sparing me my anguish. There was no escaping my plight, and the more time I spent resisting what had happened to me, the more time I would spend suffering. My choice was clear. I called a truce and surrendered to God, and it was there, in the back seat of my Subaru, where my salvation began.
Once I made the choice to align myself with Him and to place my complete faith and trust in Him, Universe, my archangels, and guardian angels—as soon as I opened my arms and my heart wide enough to “allow” them to help me with the hard work of grieving—amazing things began to happen. God began leading me to the exact people I needed to meet or see. He led me to the books I needed to read, to the words I needed to hear and write, and to the life lessons I needed to learn. It all moved me further down my path of grief and loss and aided me exponentially in my healing. The process of surrendering became inextricably linked to my transformation. I realized that if I was to become a butterfly, I would have to leave the caterpillar stage. I would have to completely give up my former life. And once I began to change, there would be no going back.
It’s impossible to carry the mantle of survivor without also carrying the mantle of transformation, for they are two sides of the same coin. This holds true whether we’ve endured and survived a life-threatening illness or accident or the death of a loved one. And by its very nature, being a survivor all but guarantees that we are not the same person we were before our trauma. There is no way we could be, for our survival has enhanced us—it has conferred upon us gifts and blessings: greater emotional or physical strength and fortitude, resilience, and self-confidence; a deepening of faith and self-awareness; a deeper love and compassion for self and others; and a far greater love and appreciation of life than we ever had before. To quote psychologist Susan Powers, PhD, from her book Ruthless Grieving, “Grief takes a hold of you and shakes all the “not you” from you, and what is left is so much closer to who you really are. So you shouldn’t want to be the same, and you are not, but in so many ways you have a chance to become more whole and more deeply yourself.”
Not only did Charlie’s death transform me in all the ways I outlined above, but his passing also gave me the impetus and the courage to resurrect my writing career. I take pride too in my ability to manage my home and finances, two challenges that when confronted, many widows find daunting. However, the most meaningful and profound transformation has been the deepening of my spirituality and spiritual practice. Beginning in the weeks preceding his death and continuing beyond it, I believed strongly that I was being guided by God and held in the arms of angels. Knowing that I still am and will always be guided is the greatest source of peace and comfort and the greatest blessing that has been bestowed upon me since losing Charlie. Grief transformed me into a spiritual seeker, and I look forward to spending the rest of my life discovering!
Whether we arrive at the cliff’s edge on our own terms or on God’s, the outcome is the same: transformation! Perhaps the likelihood that we’ll crash and burn is far greater when we are pushed over the edge, versus going there willingly, but we must take heart. We can learn from and be uplifted by the legend of The Phoenix, the bird who, after living five hundred years, burned itself on a funeral pyre only to rise again in a blaze of glory. We too can rise from the ashes of our pain and suffering and be completely reborn and made anew. Death. Rebirth. Transformation.
FORGIVENESS: DO IT FOR OTHERS AND FOR YOURSELF
These are some of my favorite passages in “The Choice is Yours: 52 Choices for Happier Lives” by Barbara Dahlgren
— If you google the word forgiveness, you will find a myriad of studies showing that those who master the art of forgiveness live longer, healthier lives. This means that psychologists, doctors, and scientists are embracing an idea considered mostly theological in the past. According to the Mayo Clinic website, here are a few of the health benefits of forgiveness:
- Healthier relationships
- Greater spiritual and psychological well-being
- Less anxiety, stress, and hostility
- Lower blood pressure
- Fewer symptoms of depression
- Lower risk of alcohol and substance abuse
- Stronger immune system
- Fewer negative emotions like anger, bitterness, and resentment
So, forgiveness is a good thing. God has forgiven us, and God admonishes us to forgive others (Colossians 3:13, Ephesians 4:32, Luke 17:4). However, in the words of C. S. Lewis, “Everyone says forgiveness is a lovely idea unless they have something to forgive.”10 Therefore, formulating a forgiving attitude is easier in theory than in principle. You know, easier said than done!
It might be a little easier to foster forgiveness if we know what forgiveness is not.
Forgetting
Forgiveness is not Forgetting. Forgetting can possibly come with time, but it doesn’t happen in an instant—like some sort of spiritual amnesia that kicks in when we say the magic words, “I forgive you.” Our minds just don’t work that way. Asking someone to forget child abuse or injustice is unrealistic. Dealing with it is one thing, Forgetting it is quite another.
Trusting
Forgiveness is not automatically restoring total trust. Suppose a dear friend betrays confidence but says, “I’m sorry.” You can forgive the friend for the harm he caused, but to immediately trust him again with a secret would be foolish. Trust is like a bank account people build with you. It might be wise to only give them as much as they have deposited—especially if they have misused your trust before. When they wipe the fund out, they start from scratch. Trust is built gradually and given when a person proves to be trustworthy.
Condoning
Forgiveness is not condoning what was done. It doesn’t approve of bad behavior. I remember when my daughter was in a group setting, and someone told an offensive joke. As jokes go, many times we don’t even know it will be inappropriate until the punch line. She did not reproach the individual, but neither did she laugh. The joke teller came over to her later and apologized privately. He was waiting for her to say, “That’s okay,” but she didn’t—because it wasn’t okay. What the guy did was offensive. However, she did say, “I accept your apology.” Granted, what many of us must forgive runs much deeper than an off-color joke, but the principle remains the same.
Pretending
Forgiveness is not pretending you weren’t hurt or upset. That would be denial, not forgiveness. Wearing a fake smile and pretending something didn’t happen doesn’t make it go away. “Smile though your heart is breaking” may make dandy lyrics, but it won’t keep your heart from breaking.
Preventing Accountability
Forgiveness is not preventing someone from being held accountable. One could forgive a thief who stole from him, but the thief might have to do jail time just the same. Choosing to testify against a thief in a court of law doesn’t negate forgiveness. Your testimony could prevent him from stealing from someone else. Behavior has consequences. Escaping consequences is not always in the best interests of people.
Reconciliation
Forgiveness is not reconciliation. Reconciliation can grow from forgiveness, but it isn’t the immediate result. You don’t instantly say, “Okay, now we’re all friends again. Let’s be happy.”
Weakness
Forgiveness is not weakness. It doesn’t mean you let everyone walk all over you and take whatever life dishes out. You don’t have to be a martyr for the cause. You can be a forgiving person and still say no.
Restoration
Forgiveness is not restoration with full benefits to a former position. The prodigal son was indeed welcomed home by his father. They killed the fatted calf and partied ’til the other cows came home, but his inheritance was gone. He shot his wad. It could well have been a case of “we love you, dearie, but you spent your money, honey!”
Conditional
Forgiveness is not something you do just so God will forgive you.
That’s like doing the right thing for the wrong reason, such as repenting just so you won’t go to hell. God doesn’t want us to be good just so He won’t zap us. He wants us to do good from the heart. This is one of the main differences between the old and new covenant.
Earned
Forgiveness is not given only to those who apologize or earn it. Most of the people you might need to forgive may never acknowledge they’ve done you wrong. Perhaps they don’t even care. We can’t play the “if only” game. I would forgive them “if only” they would say they’re sorry or admit what they did. Sure it might make forgiveness easier, but it doesn’t give us license not to forgive if they don’t. Christ’s example teaches us this. “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34).
Easy
Forgiveness is not easy. God has forgiven us, and we need to forgive others, but no one said it would be easy. Most worthwhile endeavors are not easy. However, God is willing to aid in this process if we ask Him for help. Fostering forgiveness becomes easier when we know what forgiveness is not—and we ask for God’s help.
So what is forgiveness? Forgiveness relinquishes us from feeling we are justified to retaliate, get even, seek revenge, or have an “eye for an eye” mentality.
Consider this. All of us at one time or another have had someone betray us, hurt us, emotionally wound us, or do us wrong. Humanly speaking, we think we have a justifiable “right” to hurt back or retaliate. When we forgive, we relinquish that “right.” We let God take care of any vengeance He thinks should take place (Romans 12:19–21). We trust God to take care of it in His way and in His time.
On the surface, forgiveness appears to be a selfless act, but it really isn’t. Forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves as well as others. Sometimes the person we are forgiving doesn’t even know it. Sometimes a person knows it but doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. For in relinquishing the right to retaliate, we trade caustic, self-destructive elements such as anger, resentment, and bitterness for peace. We can cross over from being a victim to being a survivor. We can get on with our lives. We can stop the past from dictating our present or future.
Forgiveness is the first step on a journey to healing. It doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a hard and sometimes long process but truly worth the effort. Fostering forgiveness benefits not only our physical life but our spiritual and emotional well-being as well. Forgiveness is a win-win situation. When we do it for others, we are really doing it for ourselves.
** In her book, Barbara gives us some great suggestions for practicing this choice!