Recovery after loss is harder than it looks.
It doesn't matter too much what the loss is:
The death of a spouse or a child.
The loss of a house—destruction or foreclosure.
Or the loss of Home—you can't go back to that place of security again.
Layoff from a long-term job.
Health and strength and freedom from pain.
A broken relationship.
Betrayal by someone you trusted.
A missed opportunity that cannot be recovered.
Failure to accomplish what you were sure you could.
Faith and self-confidence.
A dream that has died.
Treat the one who has suffered loss with great compassion. Recovery is harder than it looks.
People may say, "You're a strong woman—so brave." And she thinks, I don't want to be strong or brave. I just want to stop hurting.
They say, "You are doing so well." Thank you, I'm recovering from what amounts to a 'surgery' that almost killed me.
"You're looking good." Nice of you to say that, but this is just the face I put on when I'm going out.
Treat the one who has suffered loss with much kindness; it is doing a kindness to Christ.
Without implying unreserved acceptance of Jungian psychology, here is something he wrote:
What I do unto the least of my brethren, that I do unto Christ. But what if I
should discover that the least amongst them all, the poorest of all the beggars
. . . that these are within me, and that I myself stand in need of the alms of
my own kindness—that I myself am the enemy who must be loved—what
then?
Treat the one who has suffered loss with great compassion—especially if it is you.
I recommend reading or re-reading these posts on my "Finding the Faith Way" blog:
The Courage to Grieve and Where Everybody Knows Your Name.
Marjorie
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