A rather long day today. It is the one-year anniversary of my brother's death. He was 52 when he died of ALS (amytrophic lateral sclerosis, aka Lou Gehrig's Disease). Last year, November 4 was a Saturday. I was in my store working, or possibly not working. I knew it could be that day that my brother would die; we had been expecting it for days. It was about half past noon when my dad called to tell me it had happened. He asked me to call my sister and other brother to tell them, which I did. Then I closed my store. I did not put a sign in the window to explain why. I didn't have the heart to say why.
Today is Sunday. I went to church. On the way, I was trying and trying to remember if I went to church the day after my brother's death. I couldn't remember. It seemed like I wouldn't have; I had no remembrance of being at church the day after the death--it seems like I would remember people talking to me about it--but I also couldn't remember being at home knowing I was missing church. Finally, I remembered that I spent that Saturday night at my brother and sister-in-law's house. My sister-in-law and I both slept on couches in her living room to keep each other company. We woke up early, and for some reason I felt I should make conversation, so we got up soon, too. I did not go to church but spent the morning with her. That's why I couldn't remember being at home during church time.
Today, the members of my family and my sister-in-law's family, plus my brother's best friend with his wife and some of their children, all got together at my sister-in-law's house for a soup lunch. We mostly just had a pleasant visit, but we did talk just a little bit about my brother. My grief was not so present then.
The moment when I felt the most grief for my brother was between church and my sister-in-law's. I stopped at Safeway and bought a little potted, purple pansy and brought it to my brother's grave. Standing there, I was filled with a sense of how much I miss him and what a difference his absence makes. That's when tears came.
Tonight I mostly just feel tired and down. Not just grief for my brother, but anxieties about church, school, and money come into my mind and just seem inexpressibly dreary. I feel a dread that the holidays will be unjoyful and disappointing. It probably is weariness that is showing me my world and life in dark, colorless tones. I probably should go to bed soon.
Still, it was a nice visit, and outdoors it was a beautiful day.
I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."
The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.
(Lamentations 3:19-26)
Weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.
(Psalm 30:5b)
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
(Matthew 5:4)
Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory."
"Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?"
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
(I Corinthians 15:51-57)
Today is Sunday. I went to church. On the way, I was trying and trying to remember if I went to church the day after my brother's death. I couldn't remember. It seemed like I wouldn't have; I had no remembrance of being at church the day after the death--it seems like I would remember people talking to me about it--but I also couldn't remember being at home knowing I was missing church. Finally, I remembered that I spent that Saturday night at my brother and sister-in-law's house. My sister-in-law and I both slept on couches in her living room to keep each other company. We woke up early, and for some reason I felt I should make conversation, so we got up soon, too. I did not go to church but spent the morning with her. That's why I couldn't remember being at home during church time.
Today, the members of my family and my sister-in-law's family, plus my brother's best friend with his wife and some of their children, all got together at my sister-in-law's house for a soup lunch. We mostly just had a pleasant visit, but we did talk just a little bit about my brother. My grief was not so present then.
The moment when I felt the most grief for my brother was between church and my sister-in-law's. I stopped at Safeway and bought a little potted, purple pansy and brought it to my brother's grave. Standing there, I was filled with a sense of how much I miss him and what a difference his absence makes. That's when tears came.
Tonight I mostly just feel tired and down. Not just grief for my brother, but anxieties about church, school, and money come into my mind and just seem inexpressibly dreary. I feel a dread that the holidays will be unjoyful and disappointing. It probably is weariness that is showing me my world and life in dark, colorless tones. I probably should go to bed soon.
Still, it was a nice visit, and outdoors it was a beautiful day.
I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."
The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.
(Lamentations 3:19-26)
Weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.
(Psalm 30:5b)
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
(Matthew 5:4)
Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory."
"Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?"
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
(I Corinthians 15:51-57)
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