A Grief Journal Part 1: In Memory
Every time someone dies we grieve. We mourn. We miss them. And then we move on. Because there’s someone else who needs that space, who needs that funding, who needs that support, who needs our focus.
Every time someone dies we grieve. We mourn. We miss them. And then we move on. Because there’s someone else who needs that space, who needs that funding, who needs that support, who needs our focus.
What would it look like if we welcomed one another as we are, and took the time to learn how to love each other well?
Since COVID-19 began I’ve heard several of my Christian friends say some version of “trust God.” ... Trusting God does not mean I won’t get COVID-19. It means that if I do, He will be with me...
It’s 1 in the morning and I cry out to God – "I can’t sleep. All I have in my head is pain and fear. What am I supposed to do? I’m stressed and restless and can’t sleep."
This is the hardest part of the pandemic for me. It feels like a personal hour of darkness.
Being part of the Body of Christ means feeling pain when parts of the Body are not in alignment, and in such a large and diverse Body this will always be the case.
During the time of COVID-19, many of us are experiencing solitude or the loss of communal, in-person worship in new ways. For some, this might bring on existential questions and struggles with doubt. I hope that these spiritual practices will help others in the ways that they have helped me.
In my time of fear and isolation I found great comfort in the stories told by, and the communities formed by disabled people. Now that we are all traversing the land usually reserved for people with disabilities my hope is that these voices can be a comfort and a light to guide the way for the general public.