During this pandemic, I have noticed people going through a type of grieving process. I think perhaps we are mourning “normal” life. The stages are all there, but just as in grieving any loss, there is no particular order.
Many people are working through a bit of denial saying this virus isn’t as bad as we are being told. At first, we may have thought that it would never reach the states. Expected death tolls in other countries are surely exaggerated, we think.
Others are angry. Angry at the loss of some freedoms. Angry at the lack of toilet paper. Frustrated with having to be in the house with the same people all the time – or, perhaps worse, alone.
Some of us are in a bargaining phase working to reclaim pieces of what feels lost. We’ll just go to the store this one time without a mask or gloves. We’ll be fine because we promise we won’t touch our faces, and we’ll wash our hands as soon as we get back.
Still others are feeling sad and tearful. There are changes in appetite or sleeping habits – more food, less sleep, or the other way around. The drive to stay on top of work or chores is lacking. Activities that once held joy are not interesting right now. Even Hallmark movies elicit limited emotions.
The remainder of us may have reached the acceptance phase. This is happening. We cannot change things, and we are working toward how to best live inside our new parameters one day at a time.
As I hear from people among my church, my community, my friends, and my family, I recognize how this is so very similar to the loss of a loved one. We all process this “new normal” differently. Even in the same household or neighborhood, among loved ones and friends, each one of us experiences the phases in a different order and a different pace. Sometimes our grief phases overlap, sometimes they return again and again. The one common denominator is that we are all feeling some kind of deficit these days.
Three days after Jesus died, Mary of Magdala faced her own loss and was in the midst of her grieving process. Perhaps in disbelief, perhaps wanting to bargain with God, maybe even angry, Mary approached the tomb of her Lord sad and tearful. I wonder if she had eaten or slept in the past two days. I can only think that wherever she was on the grief scale didn’t compare to the confusion she would soon face as God’s shining messenger appeared and the earth shook. Don’t be afraid, she was told. Jesus isn’t here; he’s been raised from the dead. Hurry, go tell the others. (Matthew 28:1-10)
Mary turned and began to run – only to come face-to-face with Jesus. I can’t pretend to know how I might have reacted. Mary watched him die, and people don’t return from being dead. Tears of sadness instantly turned to tears of joy. She could only hold on for dear life as the roller coaster of emotion twisted and turned and slung her upside down. With her stomach flip-flopping through the whole ride, she would have steadily climbed the mountain of angst only to be flung straight into a free-fall of elation.
When I feel myself sliding through my own grieving process these days – missing life the way things used to be – I am comforted by this part of Jesus’ story. Death didn’t stop Jesus any more than my spending a few days at home will. I am struck by the sheer power of who our Savior is! Knowing that we will come through this opens me up to hearing those familiar words directed not only to Mary, but also to me… don’t be afraid! Jesus is alive! Go tell the others!
Never afraid and ready to tell,
Pastor Beth
Many people are working through a bit of denial saying this virus isn’t as bad as we are being told. At first, we may have thought that it would never reach the states. Expected death tolls in other countries are surely exaggerated, we think.
Others are angry. Angry at the loss of some freedoms. Angry at the lack of toilet paper. Frustrated with having to be in the house with the same people all the time – or, perhaps worse, alone.
Some of us are in a bargaining phase working to reclaim pieces of what feels lost. We’ll just go to the store this one time without a mask or gloves. We’ll be fine because we promise we won’t touch our faces, and we’ll wash our hands as soon as we get back.
Still others are feeling sad and tearful. There are changes in appetite or sleeping habits – more food, less sleep, or the other way around. The drive to stay on top of work or chores is lacking. Activities that once held joy are not interesting right now. Even Hallmark movies elicit limited emotions.
The remainder of us may have reached the acceptance phase. This is happening. We cannot change things, and we are working toward how to best live inside our new parameters one day at a time.
As I hear from people among my church, my community, my friends, and my family, I recognize how this is so very similar to the loss of a loved one. We all process this “new normal” differently. Even in the same household or neighborhood, among loved ones and friends, each one of us experiences the phases in a different order and a different pace. Sometimes our grief phases overlap, sometimes they return again and again. The one common denominator is that we are all feeling some kind of deficit these days.
Three days after Jesus died, Mary of Magdala faced her own loss and was in the midst of her grieving process. Perhaps in disbelief, perhaps wanting to bargain with God, maybe even angry, Mary approached the tomb of her Lord sad and tearful. I wonder if she had eaten or slept in the past two days. I can only think that wherever she was on the grief scale didn’t compare to the confusion she would soon face as God’s shining messenger appeared and the earth shook. Don’t be afraid, she was told. Jesus isn’t here; he’s been raised from the dead. Hurry, go tell the others. (Matthew 28:1-10)
Mary turned and began to run – only to come face-to-face with Jesus. I can’t pretend to know how I might have reacted. Mary watched him die, and people don’t return from being dead. Tears of sadness instantly turned to tears of joy. She could only hold on for dear life as the roller coaster of emotion twisted and turned and slung her upside down. With her stomach flip-flopping through the whole ride, she would have steadily climbed the mountain of angst only to be flung straight into a free-fall of elation.
When I feel myself sliding through my own grieving process these days – missing life the way things used to be – I am comforted by this part of Jesus’ story. Death didn’t stop Jesus any more than my spending a few days at home will. I am struck by the sheer power of who our Savior is! Knowing that we will come through this opens me up to hearing those familiar words directed not only to Mary, but also to me… don’t be afraid! Jesus is alive! Go tell the others!
Never afraid and ready to tell,
Pastor Beth