Giving Thanks with a Broken Heart

Giving Thanks with a Broken Heart

      Grief has a way to changing things, even the most sacred of things.  It changes how we define things, perceive things, and the weight of value that we place into something.  Grief can paint a totally different picture of events after losing someone.  One of the things that grief has changed the hues of color is holidays.  Don't get me wrong, I love holiday.  There is something magical amount gathering together as a family. The mix of food, tradition , and predictability is like sitting by a warm fire on a cold day.  People that grieve still know that holidays exist, but sometimes the thoughts of them are down right depressing.  Dread has replaced excitement.  Holiday events feel like chores instead of cherished moments.  At times these wonderful moment of holiday bliss remind us of our wound.  It's almost like ripping a band aid off.  Holidays have a way of exposing the empty chairs at our tables.  It reminds us of celebrations in the past, which we treasure, but it's a reminder of what was and won't be again.

      Thanksgiving, especially, presses us toward gratitude at a time when grief may feel louder than joy. Grief feels like an unwelcome guest during any holiday celebration. It's the elephant in the room that everyone knows exists but tries not to pay attention too.  If you are the person grieving you might feel like the third wheel or it might even feel awkward.  When you’re missing someone you love, the world’s expectation to “be thankful” can feel heavy, confusing, or even unfair.  I say unfair because as you go around the table people say what they are thankful for and they will give a response like a spouse.  You think in your gut, I wish I had a spouse to give thanks for this season.  Let me give you another example.  My youngest was at his Thanksgiving feast and kids were saying they were thankful for their moms, but he told me after school "I wish my mom was here to be thankful for."  Gratitude for the person grieving isn't a default position, it's a fought for battle. And yet, Scripture reminds us that gratitude and sorrow are not enemies—they can coexist, and sometimes the deepest thanks rise from the deepest wounds.  Read that last sentence again.  Don't just read it, meditate on it.  Sorrow and gratitude can coexist.  They aren't a war, though it might feel like it at times.  They don't have to be contrary but complementary. If you’re grieving this Thanksgiving, you’re not doing it wrong.  You aren't broken.  There are NO expectations that you need to meet. You’re human, you're hurting, you're struggling but don't forget you’re loved by a God who understands.

      What advice can I provide to someone who is struggling with grief this Thanksgiving?  First give yourself permission to feel.  Give yourself grace to hurt.  You don’t have to pretend you’re okay.  You aren't an actor, you aren't on stage, you aren't required to put on a show.  Grief doesn’t take holidays off, and you’re allowed to show up as you are—sad, thankful, exhausted, hopeful, all at the same time.  Grief doesn't know that today's a holiday.  It doesn't kick up it's feet after a hearty meal to rest.  Don't forsake the grief but instead remember that God never asked you to bring Him a polished heart; He asks you to bring a real one.  “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18)."  Your tears don’t dishonor the holiday—they honor the love you had.  Let me fall.  Maybe you worry about what others might think.  You do you.  Don't worry about what others might think.  They aren't you.  You aren't there to please them.  Feel how you feel, don't run from it.

     My second piece of advice that I've carried through the holidays is to name what you miss while still giving thanks.  Thanks isn't always a neatly wrapped present under a tree.  It's not always the hopeful things of tomorrow.  Sometimes it is simply the treasures of the past.  Thanksgiving doesn’t erase the ache, but it can help you see the good that still remains, and friends, you might not believe it, but good things still remain.  Last Thanksgiving was my first without Tiffanie.  While I had theological hope I didn't have any practical hope.  It was all doom and gloom.  But one year later the clouds continue to break and more light comes in.  Healing is still happening, redemption is happening, and beauty is coming from ashes.

      Take a few moments to name the things you miss about your loved one—the laugh, the traditions, the inside jokes, the warmth of their presence, their favorite meal, etc. Don't push grief away, make room at the table for it.  Then, quietly name the blessings that have held you this year: people who stood by you, the strength you didn’t know you had, glimpses of God’s comfort in the dark, and how God did the unexpected in your life.  This is biblical lament. It’s honest. It’s worship.  “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning ( Psalm 30:5)."  The verse doesn’t promise the morning will come quickly—but it will come.  It also promises you the unfailing presence of the Lord while you weep.

      Next is a tough one; accept the grace to do less.  Easier said then done.  Holidays are a busy season....but who says it needs to be busy?  Who says that your home has to be perfect?  Who says that you have to host the family this year?  Does the meal have to be perfect?  Why not cater the meal?  You don't have to cook the same thing if the memory is too hard to bear. You don’t have to decorate like normal. You don’t have to say yes to every invitation.  Grief is exhausting. Simplicity is holy.  I can't believe I actually wrote that because I personally struggle with this so much.  But there is nothing wrong with simple.  Simple focuses on what really matters, not the status quo or the standard of others.  You are a circus lion putting on a show.  Give yourself permission to scale down, ask for help, or do Thanksgiving differently this year. Let this be a season where God carries you instead of you carrying everything.  “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9)."  Your weakness is not a failure—it’s a place where God meets you.  Also know that other people probably want to show you grace too.  Give them the grace to graceful to you.

      Yet another lesson for the holidays as a grieving person is to find thanksgiving in God’s unchanging character.  When you lose someone life chchangesbut God’s character doesn’t.  Your circumstances may feel shattered, but God is still faithful. He is still good. He is still near.  Your crisis doesn't change His character nor does it cancel His promises.  Gratitude is hard when you are missing someone, but your gratitude this year may not be for what you have, but for who He is.  “Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; His steadfast love endures forever (Psalm 107:1)."  Life is hard to navigate without your loved one.  It feels like you are walking on sinking sand or navigating a foreign land, but when everything else feels unstable, His love remains the anchor that holds.  Even when the tempest blasts the anchor of Christ will hold firm and fast.

      Yet another important lesson that I have learned this past year is to remember that grief and gratitude can live together.  People unfamiliar with grief think that grief cancels gratitude—but the opposite is true. You grieve because you loved deeply, and that love itself is something to thank God for.  If anything grief can cause our hearts to be more grateful and appreciate the things that we had.  Grief is a terrible master, but it is a good teacher, if we are willing to learn from it.  Jesus Himself wept at Lazarus’s tomb, even though He knew resurrection was moments away. Love and loss walked hand in hand for Him too.  “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted (Matthew 5:4)."  Comfort isn’t the absence of sorrow—it’s God’s presence in it.

   Maybe this is your first Thanksgiving without your loved one, maybe you've had more years then you can count, or maybe you aren't grieving yet but you know that a time is quickly approaching when you will loss someone you love dearly, or maybe grief hasn't touched you yet.  No matter what, I want to assure you that your tears have not been wasted nor will they ever be wasted.  The Psalms teach us that God catches our tears in a bottle.  He keeps memory of them and died for them. God has been working in the shadows, shaping a deeper faith, a softer heart, and a gratitude that is honest and hard-won.  This Thanksgiving might seem unbearable, unforgiveable, and different, BUT trust the maker of heaven and earth.  He is faithful and worthy of our thanks.