New every morning: moving forward without leaving them behind

Moving forward isn’t the same as moving on.

I wish more people knew that.

Somewhere along the way, someone may have said it to you. Maybe kindly. Maybe a little impatiently. It’s time to move on.

And everything in you pushed back. Because moving on sounds like closing a door. Like packing them into a box in the garage and getting on with your life as if they were never here.

You don’t want that. You shouldn’t want that.

But you also know you can’t stay exactly where you are forever. The days keep coming. The mail keeps coming. Your grandkids keep growing.

So what are you supposed to do with a heart that loves someone who’s gone and a life that’s still going?

Here’s the good news. You don’t have to choose between loving them and living again.

The old advice was wrong

For most of the last century, a lot of grief experts believed you had to “let go.” The idea was that healthy grief meant slowly cutting your emotional ties to the person who died, so you’d be free to invest in new relationships.

If you were still talking to your mom’s picture, or wearing your husband’s flannel shirt, or setting out your son’s favorite mug on his birthday, some people saw that as a sign you were stuck.

Then in 1996, grief researchers Dennis Klass, Phyllis Silverman, and Steven Nickman published a book that changed the conversation. It was called Continuing Bonds: New Understandings of Grief. They gathered research showing that most grieving people keep some kind of ongoing connection with the person they lost, and that this is normal and often healthy. (Routledge)

That connection can look like a lot of things. Memories you return to. Things you still tell them in your head. A recipe you keep making. A value of theirs you carry into how you live now.

The bond changes. It doesn’t have to end.

So if you’ve been worried that keeping them close means you’re doing grief wrong, you can set that worry down. Love doesn’t stop because a heart stops beating.

Keep reading: Called by name: who am I after losing someone I love?

A man who sat in the ashes

There’s a small book in the Bible that most people skip. It’s called Lamentations, and it’s exactly what it sounds like. It’s a book of grief.

It was written after Jerusalem was destroyed. The city was burned. The temple was gone. People had died in the streets. The writer had watched it all happen.

And he doesn’t pretend it’s fine. Listen to him in chapter 3:

“Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me.” Lamentations 3:19, 20 (ESV)

Wormwood and gall are bitter plants. He’s saying, this tastes bitter, and I can’t stop thinking about it.

Maybe you know that taste.

Notice he doesn’t skip it. God let this grieving man’s honest words stay in the Bible. The bitterness is part of the story.

But then comes a turn.

“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3:21 to 23 (ESV)

Moving forward after loss: what changed, and what didn’t

Here’s what I want you to see.

Jerusalem was still in ruins when he wrote that. The temple was still gone. Nothing outside him had changed. Moving forward after loss doesn’t mean leaving them behind. It means carrying them with you.

What changed was what he chose to remember.

But this I call to mind.

He’s still remembering his sorrow. He just decides that sorrow won’t be the only thing he remembers. Right next to the bitterness, he places something else. The steadfast love of God. Mercy that hasn’t run out.

That’s what moving forward looks like. Not forgetting. Remembering more.

You can remember the hospital room and also remember that God was with you there. You can remember the empty chair and also remember that His mercy got you through Thanksgiving. Both memories can sit side by side.

And notice the word morning. His mercies are new every morning. Not every year. Not once you’re “over it.” Every single morning.

So you don’t need enough strength for the next ten years. You don’t even need enough for next week. You need today’s mercy for today. And tomorrow there’ll be new mercy waiting.

That’s a pace a grieving heart can actually keep.

Keep reading: I shall go to him: accepting the death of someone you love

Grace for the slow days

I want to be honest about something. Moving forward isn’t a straight line.

You might have a good week and then a terrible Tuesday. You might laugh at lunch and cry in the car on the way home. That doesn’t mean you’re going backward. It means you’re grieving. Grief and healing walk together for a long time.

And here’s where grace comes in.

Moving forward isn’t something you earn or perform for God. He’s not standing at a finish line tapping His watch. The writer of Lamentations didn’t find hope because he finally got his act together. He found hope because God’s love never ceases. It was already there, on his worst day.

That’s what Jesus came to show us. He didn’t stand far away from grief. He walked right into it. He wept at His friend’s tomb. And then He walked out of His own tomb, so that death wouldn’t have the last word for anyone who belongs to Him.

That’s why Christians can grieve with hope. Not instead of grief. With it.

If you’re not sure what you believe about Jesus right now, you’re welcome here, questions and all. If you’ve ever wondered what it would mean to know Him personally, I’d love to share more with you here.

Something to try this week

Here are two small ways to move forward while keeping them close. That’s what moving forward after loss looks like most days.

Name one thing to carry forward. Think about the person you lost. What’s one thing about them you want to keep alive? Maybe it’s your dad’s habit of calling people on their birthday. Your wife’s garden. Your friend’s way of making strangers laugh. Pick one, and do it this week. Let it be a way of saying, you still matter, and you’re still part of my life.

Call one mercy to mind each morning. Before you get out of bed, or with your first cup of coffee, finish this sentence: This morning, I call to mind… Then name one mercy. It can be tiny. I slept four hours instead of two. My neighbor waved. I’m still here, and God is too.

That’s it. Just one each morning.

If you’d like, you can pray something like this:

Lord, I don’t want to move on. I want to keep loving them. Help me move forward with them in my heart and You by my side. Give me today’s mercy for today. Amen.

And if you find you can’t take any steps forward at all, if months go by and the weight isn’t lifting, please talk with your doctor or a licensed grief counselor. Getting help isn’t a failure of faith. It’s one of the ways God gives mercy.

Keep reading: One less stocking: coping with grief during the holidays

So no, you don’t have to move on.

But you can take a small step forward this morning. And you won’t take it alone. His mercy got there before you did.

It’s new again today.

Blessings,

Pastor Howard