“Golden Repair” (02/19/2025)

Last evening as I met with the members of our grief support group, we had a new member join us. I asked him to share his reason for coming, and he opened up for us all the source of his grief by sharing the details of the loss of his wife. Then the other members of the group shared with him their particular losses that brought them to the group. I watched the faces of the individuals as they shared their stories as well as the faces of the others who empathetically listened. All of us held the pain of the other. All of us tended to the other. All of us seek healing but reject forgetting.

I shared with the group my discovery of the Japanese art of Kintsugi. It is the art of repairing broken pottery by mending and rejoining the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer mixed with gold. When one beholds a piece of kintsugi pottery, one simultaneously recognizes past suffering and present beauty. I shared that when I discovered this technique, I immediately thought of grief, of the loss of a loved one.

Grief forever changes us. It is supposed to change us because it is the next stage of a love that was instrumental in forming us. While we carry on, we do not forget. How could we?

But our modern world at times acts as though we should. “Get over it” is not only a cruel response to one’s grief, but also unrealistic. One’s grief eventually becomes “bearable.” I remember learning about grief years ago as I walked with someone who’d lost a child. She told me learning to carry grief was like learning to care for her child. At first, she said, all she could manage was holding the child. That alone consumed all her attention and energy. But then, she told me, with time, she learned to hold her child and also answer the phone or shop or help another. With grief, at first all she could carry was it, but with time she learned to carry the grief and still do other things. The grief is there, it always will be, she told me.

One of our responsibilities as followers of Christ is to tend to those who mourn, those carrying the sadness of the loss of a loved one. Jesus himself taught us how natural and fitting it is to mourn – it is the 2nd Beatitude – “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” He also taught us through his own example, through his weeping for Lazarus, his friend. He taught us through his raising of the dead girl (Mt. 9:18-26; Mk. 5:21-43; Lk. 40-56), through his raising of the son of the widow he encountered at Nain (Lk. 7:11-17).

Another gift I received while accompanying the woman who’d lost a child was that “time heals all wounds” is false. It isn’t time that heals the grief, it is love. Love is the cause of grief, love for the one lost, and only love will bind the wounds. That love flows from our LORD and sometimes it is applied through the companionship, listening, and caring of another person. With love received, the brokenness of the individual can be healed, but always, as with kintsugi pottery, the signs of the loss will be apparent.

As we journey in faith, hope and love, let us be open to sharing the journey with those who are grieving. Let us open ourselves to share in their grief and to be instruments of the LORD’s loving and tender care for His precious children.

Until tomorrow, let us all love well.